Things that make me happy

 

This face

Making Matty laugh
Peach pie
Alyce humming when she eats
Midwifery school
Coffee beans
Snails
The way it feels when you sink into a great conversation
Morning doves
Sangria
Air conditioning
Clean floors
Shira's squishy arms
Skirts
Cherry pie
Stretched muscles
Lemons
New friends
New jobs
Dancing
Cold water
Blueberry pie
My three cats, especially Hille
My mum's backyard
Writing

What's making you happy lately?

Be well!

Thinking of our friends who still get to shop at Trader Joe's

Hope it's a great holiday. All our love from Canada!

Be well.

Join us for a newborn care workshop in Toronto!

I'm not exaggerating at all when I tell you that my first night at home with my new baby, my first daughter, Alyce, I sat in the dark of my living room, everyone else in the house fast asleep, wondering how in the hell I was going to do this. I had given birth that afternoon to the beautiful wee one I'd been waiting months (years) for, and the adrenaline was starting to wear off. My partner was asleep in bed, my mother asleep on the couch next to me, and I was ready for sleep for the first time in two days. But Alyce was awake, starring up at me, and I had no idea what I was supposed to do with her.

Two years later I found myself sitting in the dark, again, this time holding my second daughter, Shira. She was one day old and had been nursing since she left the womb. Each and every time she fell asleep at the breast , when I would slowly put her down in her co-sleeper, ready to collapse in bed myself (labour is hard work!), she would wake up. Again. And my partner was in bed asleep. Again.

The moral of the story? Newborns can be hard work, or more to the point, they make us work hard. We are tired, hungry, a bit confused, and at least one of us is healing from the work of birth. Fortunately these newborns are also soft, delicious, perfect, tiny-toed, and we'll pretty much forgive them for anything.


We are Alexandra and Danielle, and we'll be leading a workshop this month about how to care for newborns. No, we can't tell you the magic secret of how to catch a full-night's sleep or how not to worry at the overwhelming feelings of responsibility we all feel once a wee one is born. But we can share our experiences as birth and postpartum doulas (and mothers and adorers of babies) and introduce you to some tips and suggestions for an easier transition into life with a new baby. Whether you are a parent, grandparent, or super-excited friend of the new parents, we welcome you to join us for an evening of discussion, hands-on demonstrations (though, not with a real baby!), and encouragement on caring for your newborn.

Alexandra and I will introduce some of the following topics:

• What to expect the first week with a new baby
• Diapering options and bum care
• What does it mean to wear you baby?
• Sleep (including bed-sharing and crib-sleeping)
• How to comfort new babies
• Preparing your home for your baby
• Practical suggestions for breast and bottle feeding

Our next class is offered Monday, July 8th at the Toronto Yoga Mamas studio (in Toronto's east end). For more information about the class see here, or contact Alexandra or Danielle at info@holisticbirthcollective.com.

We'd love to see you there. We love talking about babies.

Alexandra Weinberger and Danielle LaGrone are birth and postpartum doulas in Toronto and founders of Holistic Birth Collective. You can reach them at info@holisticbirthcollective.com.

I dedicate this anniversary to the man who rubs my feet every single day

 Dear Matty,

This morning you woke me up. I was in our bed, wrapped up in the arms of our eldest daughter. She had spent the night with me because you needed to spend the night with our youngest daughter. I stepped out of bed, walked into the kitchen, and immediately we began an intricate dance trying to team-tackle the five piles of cat vomit that Hille had so lovingly thrown up seconds before (around the time I was untangling my arms from our daughter's). Minutes later you cornered the small one with a bottle of sunscreen while I convinced the taller one get dressed before breakfast. As one was bouncing around begging to watch one of the DVDs she brought home from the library, the other was declaring (loudly) that she really needed to play with one of her sister's toys. Somewhere in between the madness I prepared some breakfast for our first born while you ushered our second born out the door. There were hugs, squishy kisses, giggles, yelps, bounces, whispers, cries, and together we all started our day. With you on your way to daycare/work and me on my way to school drop-off/work, our Monday had begun.

And then a couple of hours later I realized that today is our sixth wedding anniversary.

Ten years ago we met on the first day of school. Eight years ago you finally found the nerve tell me you were sweet on me (though only after I asked you out on repeated dates). And six years we stood under the chuppah, surrounded by the people we love, and became a family.

Then there were children, jobs, moves, adventures, more moves, more adventures, laughter, sighs, gasps, sobs, and kisses. Lots of kisses. We have leaped through life together these six years and while we find ourselves distracted by the world zooming around us, I can only leap because you leap with me. Thank you for holding on so tightly. The madness that surrounds us means nothing.

Also, thank you for the children. We did good.


Happy Anniversary, Matty. xox

And now she is three

We're all exhausted and I think still digesting more sugar than we've had in a long time (which is saying a lot). Shira turned three on Saturday and it was delightful. I was dreading the weekend a bit because I've been worked up about Shira growing so quickly (because of that lingering fear and sadness that she might maybe could be my last baby), but it was the nicest transition I've had in a long while. I'm usually terrible at change, but I didn't even cry. It was a day filled with sisters and close family and good friends and best friends and cake. So much cake. Shira was gifted with so many lovely things, including the sweetest little tea set you ever did see. But of course it wasn't the gifts or the candy that will make me remember this day for decades. What I'll remember is the bounce in Shira's step, the pride peeking out from behind that little face. She shone that day, and so did everyone else.

Happy Birthday, Shira Clementine. I'm so glad that you are mine.

Why I also thought about life without my breasts

Angelina Jolie write about her choice to have a preventative double mastectomy yesterday in the NYT. After losing her mum to ovarian cancer and having discovered (through genetic testing) that she, too, carries a "faulty" BRCA gene that greatly increases her risk of developing ovarian or breast cancer, she chose to have her breasts surgically removed. It reduced her breast cancer risk from 87% to under 5%. 

Angelina (I'll choose to believe we're on first name basis) has six children. She made the decision, her decision, to reduce the threat of dying young and missing out on her children's lives. I think we can all understand that. Nevertheless she's received some criticism (shocking, I know) on account of her sharing her medical decision so publicly. Everyone makes their own choices, but I'm a little surprised that some people are shocked that she'd share her decision with the world.

Angelina (again, we're close) is public figure who, through sharing her experiences, might help another few people out (both women and men can develop breast cancer). We've learned how she grieves the loss of her mother, how she worries about missing out on the lives of her own children, and how on account of her mum's cancer stemming from a genetic defect that she herself inherited, she made a personal medical choice to take preventative action. She explains the procedure, trying, I think, to normalize a surgery that sounds so terrifying, and assures us that it was the right decision for her.

I had the same genetic test done five years ago.

My grandmother, my namesake, passed away from breast cancer a few months before I was born. When my lovely aunt, now cancer-free, developed breast cancer seven years ago, she discovered that the recurring breast cancer in our family stemmed from a genetic defect on one of the two BRCA genes. Most cancer doesn't develop as a result of genetics, but it did in our family. My aunt wrote a letter to me (and I think to other members of our family) suggesting that I get tested myself. This was an uncomfortable letter to receive.

Some people just don't want to know, and that is their choice. But in case you are wondering, in case you are ever faced with the same kind of letter (though I hope you are not), here are my reasons to have the genetic testing done:

I was 31 with a baby just learning to walk. We had just celebrated Alyce's first birthday and we knew we wanted more babies. Lots of babies! Having met with a genetic counselor to learn more about the test, especially about what steps could be taken if it was discovered that I did carry the "faulty" gene, I learned that most women, upon discovering they tested positive for the genetic defect, choose the double mastectomy. It seemed like a very radical step, but I gave it a lot of thought. 

I briefly considered not going through with the test, but in the end I needed to know. I needed to know because if I tested positive I was going to drag Matt to nearest empty hospital room and get pregnant that day.  And then again the next year. I was going to keep breastfeeding Alyce, and then breastfeed our next babies with all that my body could give. I was going to join forces with my body, my potentially genetic-defect-carrying body, and celebrate these breasts the best way I knew how. And then maybe I'd say good-bye to them, farewell to these glorious breasts. 

Basically, I wanted to know if I needed to get knocked up that afternoon.

Matt and I talked about what it might mean to test positive. I might choose extensive monitoring of my breasts and ovaries. I might choose the double mastectomy. We just didn't know.  It was a terrifying decision to go through with the test because it opened up so many possibilities. Would I live my life differently? Was I going to die young like my grandmother? Would my children grow up without a mother? Would I lose my breasts? Would I still love my body? 

I tested negative. 

I still got pregnant pretty quickly after those results (no sense in taking any chances).

For those wondering why Angelina (ahem) chose to share her experience with the world, think about it for a few minutes. Think about how life-changing it is to make life and death decisions about your body. Consider what it would be like to lose your mum as a child, to know that she won't meet her grandchildren, or what it would be like not to have the children you dream of. Spend a moment wondering about how difficult a decision it would be to remove an entire part of your body. This isn't a publicity stunt, this is one woman telling another woman that it's ok to do whatever you need to do to live your life to the absolute fullest. It's not the choice for everyone, but it was hers. Let's let her share that.

***

There are a lot of things I could have brought up in this post surrounding a women's decision to have her breasts removed. Women's breasts and bodies are politicized and fetishized constantly and this certainly plays a role in the decisions women make. I'm also sure that there are many good reasons not to endure a preventative double mastectomy. This post is simply about why someone might choose to undergo testing, and why he or she might choose to act in the face of a positive test. This is all so very complicated, but I'm offering you just a piece of my own experience. 

Be Well!

Yes

You guys. They said yes. They actually said yes. 

I will begin midwifery school this fall, though I wish I could start tomorrow.  I've waited years, years, to become a midwife. I could go on and on (and I probably will for weeks, so bear with me) about how long I've wanted to do this for my future. Now I am here to tell you that things can happen. Dreams and big ideas and tiny goals that you only whisper to yourself late at night are real. I am so excited I might just float away.

If you see me floating around, just let me go. I want to bottle this feeling and carry it with me as I throw myself into what will be the busiest, most demanding, four years of my life. I want to dance around and twirl and declare to most anybody that I'm going to be a midwife. I think I'll be a good one.

I'm not sure what this will mean for this blog. I'm about to embark on a very busy summer leading up to a very busy fall, and a very busy winter, and you get the idea. Will I have time to return here, to store little bits of my everyday life while the whirlwind takes off around me? I hope so. This blog is where I come to exhale, and I'll need that more than ever as the year continues. But there is so much real life going on that deserves my attention, I can't make any promises to myself. I'll just take it one busy day at a time.

Now, bring on the babies.

Be well!