Reflecting on 2013...

It's been quite the year.

Loss. Grief. Joy. Exhaustion.
And a giant helping of survivor's guilt.

Pop passed away this spring, after a very lengthy, very painful battle with cancer. The C word. I've never disliked it more. And while Pop did not get a chance to build relationships with his great-grandchildren, he did leave behind a childhood of memories for Jay. Fishing, fishing and more fishing. Sunday afternoon phone calls to give Jay crap about his football team. Telling us to 'drive 'er easy' each time we parted ways. His deliberate withdrawal late in life gave way to a now constant sense of his spirit in our home. We ask him for help in times of trouble and know he isn't far away. Sometimes we still expect him to call.

Our family also grieved a whole different kind of loss, when our dear niece Kinsley was born sleeping on May 23rd. To say we were devastated is an understatement. Our entire family was preparing to welcome her with open arms, to embrace her as the wonderful gift we knew she was. To lose her, to never see or hold her, well that's just not fair. I've never felt so tested in my faith, I have asked God why more times than I can count. My sister-in-law and brother-in-law amaze me with their courage and strength. I pray for them every single day, hug them whenever they'll let me (ok, I'm  hugger!) and remind my kids all the time of their special angel cousin in heaven. She will NEVER be forgotten.

And then there was joy. Elation for the birth of our third child, our final child, Ethan John. I'd always pictured a little boy named Ethan, and as with our other children, we chose John as his 'angel name' in honour of Pop. He didn't exactly arrive as we expected him to (that's a story for another day) but his soul shines brightly, his eyes tell me there is something special about his presence. Our son is perfect in every way. Beautiful and sweet, loving and smart. He completed our family in an instant, and has brought intense joy to his siblings, father and I.

The juxtaposition of the last two events have left me with, what can only be called, survivors guilt. Intense guilt. Heavy, thick pain which runs deep in my chest. As I reflect on milestone dates with Ethan, I weep knowing Kinsley will not celebrate them. When I hold my son close in the wee hours of the morning I hold back tears as my thoughts drift to how my sister-in-law was feeling during her brief time with K. My heart aches, I melt into a puddle of mush weekly as I feel guilt for posting photos, spilling news about new food triumphs and his ever-increasing weight. My child survived. And it hurts more than I ever dreamed possible. I can only hope time will ease this pain.

In the fall we got our family "legs" back, so I took an opportunity to try something new - part-time instructing at Niagara College. The last four months of 2013 became a true test of endurance as I attempted to balance too many hours of freelance work, teaching, full-time care of my kids and, oh ya, my wee man and his increasing appetite. I lost my evenings, weekends and connection to my husband and kids. I took my first meeting one-week post c-section, in sweatpants because nothing fit. It was a very intense time for our family, one which we will never choose again. I felt exhausted and surprisingly, very lonely. Our family lost our sense of balance and realized we had slipped back to the very reason I left my full-time career in the first place. Lesson learned.

In 2014 I will strive for peace. Peace in my body, heart and peace in my mind. I've vowed to take better care of myself. To forgive my body for its current shape, to drop the negative thoughts wasting space in my brain and to work to release the guilt in my heart. No easy task, but one I take on with focus and determination.

This year has taught me, more than ever before, that life should be embraced. It is short enough to warrant shoestring vacations (hint hint honey), late night movies on the couch with my kids and long distance phone calls to friends who I consider an extension of my family.

Much love to our village for supporting us through this very busy, life-altering year. All the best for an incredible 2014.

xo

My riding partners

Have you ever been on the Drop Zone ride at Canada's Wonderland?

It's the one where you strap yourself in and then slowly, but surely, head straight up the very tall pole until you stop. In the moments that follow, you feel equal parts amazed at the view from up high and terrified as you know what comes next will be an epic thrill.

Your feet dangle.

Your heart races.

You look around at the faces of family members riding along side you and your eyes meet... 'what the heck were we thinking?' you say silently.

Then, you drop.

Fast. Hard.

Insanely quick.

And just like that, the ride is over. Your heart is still racing. You legs are weak. You stumble off, grab the arm of your riding partner and decide that, for now, ice cream is about all you can handle. Then you wander off to find that yummy chocolate-chip-cookie-with-chocolate- chips-treat they sell for too much money.

That about sums up my life at the moment.

The drop is a near-daily occurrence for me. A roller coaster of emotions as I struggle to be a great mom, great wife, great instructor, great freelance professional.

I'm exhausted. Actually I've never felt more exhausted in my life. Yet I strap myself in every morning, say a silent prayer that I'll be 'great' today and prepare myself for the inevitable rise.

I try, whenever possible, to enjoy the view. My kids are beautiful, growing and smarter than I ever imagined. In those moments, I am comforted by their hugs and smiles.

Then, I panic.

How in the world am I ever going to get (insert project, prep, other work-related requirement) done in time to sleep tonight? How can I possibly be a great mom/wife if all I do is work?

I can feel my feet dangling, The inevitable about to happen.

I'm going to drop.

Thankfully for me, I have two amazing riding partners.

One is Jay. He is calm, loving and ever-supportive. He reminds me that - yes - we are about to drop. But the ride is purposeful, fun and there's a treat at the end so just hang in there.

The other is my mom. She is warm, empathetic and an excellent listener. She too, reminds me that the ride is worth enjoying, that it's ok to be scared and that, no matter how much I scream, she will love me and my family just the same.

Best. Riding. Partners. Ever.

I love you both.
xo

Angel in the Wings

I've held a firm belief in angels for a very long time. When I was a child, I collected angels and displayed them on a large wood shelf in my bedroom. I spent many afternoons staring at my little statues, admiring their shapes and imagining potential personalities.

When it came time to name our children, I felt it important to give each child an 'angel name'. The already difficult task of choosing (and agreeing) upon names now became an opportunity to honour family members gone before us and share their legacy for the next generation.

Nolan's middle name is Scott, after my cousin and childhood hero who took his own life at the young age of 20. He babysat us as kids, taught us how to pronounce U2 and engaged us like no other young family member ever could. He was awesome, and his death devastated my brother and I. My wish is that Scott's love of family influences Nolan to become a well-rounded man and attentive father someday.

Brooklyn's middle name is Amelia, after my grandmother. She was an incredible woman who survived the Holocaust, immigrated to Canada and eventually raised four kids alone after her husband passed away. She endured great suffering, loss and heartache, yet continued to push onward. My wish is that my Babcia's strength of character assists Brooklyn in becoming a strong, independent girl during those difficult pre-teen and teenage years.

Ethan's middle name is John, after Jay's recently departed grandfather. He was a man passionate about the outdoors who taught my husband, then a young boy, to love long days fishing on a quiet boat. In his final years, he took great pride in hearing all about Jay's sales career, living vicariously through the weekly telephone calls. My wish for Ethan is that Papa John's love of nature shine deep into the core of his heart to instill in Ethan an appreciation for the beauty all around him.

I pray every night that these angels watch over my children and support them throughout their growing years and beyond. I know that each of my children are being watched over by their 'angel in the wings', and finally found a children's book to put a visual to my conviction. We read it often, as I believe it's important for my children to know they are never alone.

I never imagined I'd have to explain to my children that their cousins also have an angel, but that this angel is extra special. This angel, their little cousin, rose to heaven before they could know or hug her. This little angel, Kinsley, is an angel in the highest regard. Her little soul stands firmly next to her older brothers, watching their every move and ensuring their safety. I like to think she also comforts her parents, lifts them up during the most difficult days.

It's been eight weeks already, since little Kinsley began her duties as angel-in-chief for my sister-in-law, brother-in-law and nephews. And while I've always had a strong faith, this time I'm struggling to understand why. This time I'm asking my angel in the wings to guide me.

Thinking of you, little Kinsley. Auntie Pam loves you very much. xo

orange + purple + blue = family

It's hard to believe I'm having another baby.

I struggled with the decision to be 'done' with two, as the final arguments pitted my reasonable mind against my needy heart. I'd heard all the logical arguments... the world is built for a family of four... middle children struggle... there's only three bedrooms... children shouldn't outnumber their parents... tuition will be a zillion dollars by then...

Yet it only took one photo to confirm that my heart spoke louder, more clearly than any argument based on fact or currency. This photo, a simple shot of my kids on the dock at their grandparents' cottage, left me feeling as though something was missing. This simple open space was my sure sign of room for another sibling.

B and N, first weekend at the cottage in 2012

I'd always said that if we chose to have another baby we'd never find out the sex. What did it matter anyways, as we'd already been blessed with one of each? Well that all changed when we shared the news with N and B that mommy was pregnant, as they immediately concluded it was a sister... end of story. I couldn't imagine them visiting me in the hospital and being somehow disappointed that the outcome was different they we'd led them to believe. They knew it was God's decision to make, not ours, however in order to give them enough time to adjust we chose to find out the sex of the baby. Good choice, as little sister was replaced with ultrasound confirmation of a little brother :)

I've been utterly disappointed with the lack of enthusiasm for this little bean from strangers and well-meaning friends/relatives alike. I've been hit with more 'are you guys nuts?' and 'you have no idea how much you'll struggle!' than I care to count. As if our decision was made to somehow lessen our family dynamic instead of enrich it with more love and laughter. I still don't get it. A child is blessing, never to be thought of as anything less.

The third time around each little kick and punch still amazes me, leaves me staring at my belly and wondering what he will look like, who he will become. The heartburn, nausea and swollen feet are still issues, but have taken a backseat to ordinary days spent enjoying the company of my kiddos while balancing freelance projects late into the evenings.

Despite the uncomfortable sleep and aching back I cannot imagine myself any other way. My desire to be a mother, to once again grow a little miracle and share him with the world, is much stronger than I'd ever imagined. Ten years ago I was talking about fancy cars, big houses and a forward-marching career. Not so much at the moment, as my desire to be a mother continues to lead every decision I make. I'm left to borrow my bff's purses (although gorgeous) because all I can afford is a new, utilitarian diaper bag designed for three children's belongings.

Behind closed doors we continue to prepare as a family. We talk about our little baby boy with love and enthusiasm. We discuss baby names, toys meant for sharing and songs we can sing to 'our baby.' N and B happily became roomies in order to give their new sibling-to-be his own space. An adjustment met with very few concerns and more time spent worrying than was necessary.

The baby's room is nearly complete, bedding washed and books in place. Plenty of hand-me-downs from dear family and friends scatter the closet and drawers, a sure sign of the love and kindness he will feel once he arrives. He's a lucky kid, really, to be surrounded but such intense affection and support. It's something I will never allow him to take for granted, it's something too precious to forget.

As a tribute to his older siblings, little splotches of orange and purple paint still show on the baseboard of his now-blue room. My hubby said he just couldn't paint over it, or remove it, as it seemed so fitting that a little piece of our other children remained behind in this shared nursery.

What seemed like our painting errors on display has actually become a work of family art, a visual reminder of the trials, triumphs and new found love we found in raising each of our children. A reminder that, in our world at least, nothing happens without a reason. It is the simplest display which highlights our most important accomplishments.

One year later... the marathon continues...

I cannot believe I'm approaching one year since my 'big move' to work-at-home mama. The last 12 months have absolutely flown by, and yet I feel as though many more 'aha moments' were captured as a result. It obviously suits our family, as I'm now 26 weeks pregnant with a little man who 'ninja turtles' my belly all day and night, apparently anxious to arrive early and meet his siblings. I've learned so much about myself, my kids and my husband as a result.

First up, let me share my thoughts as the know-it-all at Hummingbird Communications...

One year of freelancing, it feels like a bit of a marathon. No one warned me how difficult freelancing would be! Recall that feeling of beginning a new job and attempting to learn the culture, social norms and communication style of your peers and superiors. It's exhausting right? Well lucky me, I've had to do it about six times over this last year. Ha!

While I shine bright gold on the true colours personality scale, I'm also a strong blue - highly tuned to the emotions of others. As a result, I've often found myself struggling to understand the nuances of emails from clients more so than necessary. As most of my work takes place virtually, it can be difficult to go lengthy periods of time between face-to-face communications. I've learned to ask for clarification and request additional background information in order to best serve my clients.

Freelancing also requires intense discipline. I knew this, but I still struggle to sit down at 8pm to 'work' after 'working' all day with my kids. The most difficult times are on weekends... I have to visualize myself duct-taped to the desk just to meet deadlines... and you would too, if your kiddos were playing spy agents around your PC and screaming and fighting with each other in the same room (or one room above or below you). Ear plugs are my friend.

My relationship with my kids is stronger, and more meaningful than ever. Not to suggest career moms have any less a relationship with their kids - kudos to each and every one of you for balancing both worlds - but for our family, this was the only way. I shudder to think of where we'd be if I hadn't spoken up and had an honest, frank discussion with my hubby. Our family is fiercely loving, enormously joyful and man oh man, we are busy! I feel blessed to see N take giant leaps in his literacy skills right in front of my eyes. I send prayers of thanks for witnessing B's incredible speech development. I LOVE THESE KIDS. And I love being home with them.

Most of all, this last year has taught me that without a doubt, without the tinest second thought, my hubby is the absolute perfect partner and best friend I could ever ask for. He supports my work, my parenting decisions and reminds me when its time to take a break. He lives and breathes for our kids, and his love for me is written all over his face. I love him and couldn't do this without him.

This summer will present challenges for us that we've never experienced... a third child, our first newborn experience without the support of maternity benefits... however I know we're still in the right place, the right space, to make this possible.

"Act, as if everything depended upon you. And pray, as if everything depended upon God."

Off to the races folks...

An Ode to Sleep

Sleep.

Oh sleep.

How I miss thee.

It's been eight days of germs in our house, and as any parent knows, germs equal NO SLEEP. It's been two-and-a-half years since B was born, a new sleep low for me, and four-and-a-half years since N was born, my first dip into the world of sleep deprivation.

I really miss sleep.

Late at night, after providing my kiddos with water/kleenex/chapstick or whatever else they woke me up for, I reminice about the 'good ol' days'. Evenings spent snuggling in bed with my hubby, watching a movie or some ridiculously awful TV series and falling asleep in each other's arms. Sleeping until I woke up because my body was ready and not remembering a single moment of what happened between when my head hit the pillow and the next morning.

All you single, newly married and married-without-kids friends, I AM JEALOUS OF YOU. That's correct, I'll admit it. I would trade my first-born child (and perhaps my second-born to sweeten the deal) just to get a few nights of uninterrupted, solid sleep. Is this why sleepovers were created? Hmm...

I used to think I was losing it when thoughts of booking a hotel room just to sleep for 24 hours crossed my mind. Then a girlfriend with kids the same age as mine reported the same wish. WHEW! If I was losing it, I was going there with someone else, thank goodness. I wonder if the beds are comfy in crazy town?

To complicate things further, my very loving, totally amazing hubby snores. LOUDLY. This means that once I've returned to bed after visiting my not-really-sleeping angels I lay awake in frustration. Often times the poor guy gets a bolt from me, asking unrealistically, to stop the maddness. He'll roll over and, before I'm even settled, be right back to sleep... and snoring...

I'm now 21 weeks pregnant. In first pregnancy language, this is the 'feel well' trimester marked by increased energy and desire to prepare for baby. In second pregnancies this is the 'feel ok' stage where you know you should feel energized and still prepare accordingly for baby. In third pregnancies, well, I'm finding that this trimester is as exhausting as the first, without much time to prepare for baby much less rest up. Thank goodness I'm able to sleep late on weekends, something hubby insists on at every possible opportunity. I'd kiss him for this, if I had the energy.

Sleep is just NOT my friend. And with our third baby on the way, I can only imagine how much worse this is going to get. Hubby and I have decided to bunk the little one with his older brother, secretly hoping that N will lead by example and teach his little brother that sleeping straight through the night is the cool thing to do (when you are healthy). When the boys are sick, it's going to be a certified gong show. I'll be sending Daddy in to 'deal with his boys.' ha!

In the meantime, I just keep plugging away at my mama and work-at-home-mama duties, dark circles under my eyes, hoping to win the sleep lottery. Perhaps someday I'll find the time to relax in bed, not because I'm tired, but because there is simply nothing to do and no-one to care for. I imagine this is part of having a seniors' discount? Seems more attractive all the time...

Oh sleep.

How I miss thee.