Blog

A woman came into my office one day visibly stressed. She couldn’t understand why she was so anxious as she had never been before. After questioning her about her medical history she revealed that she was pregnant. I explained how pregnancy can sometimes make you feel differently about things. I knew from experience.

It was winter when we moved into our home so there was no opportunity to meet the neighbours but we were aware of the elderly couple who lived across from us. One night I woke up because our whole bedroom was lit up in red. Their house was on fire! We jumped out of bed and called the fire department and then my husband ran across the street to alert the couple. The fire had started in the garage so luckily the older couple were alright and got out of the house. The firefighters arrived and quickly put out the fire saving the house but there was considerable smoke damage so the couple had to move out for remediation to happen. They asked us to keep an eye on their home.

I was pregnant with our first that spring as we watched the workmen file in and out of their house. We wondered when the work would be finished. Then one lovely spring day I noticed a skeletal cat sunning on their front step. The poor thing. I assumed that they had been feeding it and since they were away the cat was starving. I phoned the humane society and they do not have a rescue team to go out and get cats. I guess it makes sense. Cats could easily evade capture. I then phoned the cat hospital where we took our cat and they informed me that they would be happy to see the cat provided I took financial responsibility which I agreed to. They told me how to capture the cat. Warm up food so that it is more enticing and throw a towel over the cat and put it in a carrier to bring it in. R was out of town on business so I phoned up my friend MC who lived close by and she was immediately on board to help. We followed instructions to the letter and brought the cat into the hospital.

When the vet examined the cat he told me that this was a very old cat and that it had health problems because cats are very resourceful when it comes to food and it would not be in this condition otherwise. I had two choices, I could either euthanize the cat or they could run some blood work and find out what ailed the cat. The cost would be about the same. 

I think that because I was pregnant I went for blood work. Growing life inside of me I couldn’t fathom taking a life as my eyes welled up with tears. The practical country girl was in hiding and this marshmallow had replaced her.

The vet then suggested he keep the cat overnight. When I asked the cost of that, he quoted me an amount almost equal to what it would cost me for a night in a hotel! I wasn’t that weak that I was going to do that. The vet instructed me to quarantine this cat from mine. The bedroom we were going to decorate for the nursery would do fine. 

After I got the cat home and settled I looked across the street to see the old couple had returned and were searching the front of their property. As I crossed the street to find out what it was they were looking for, my anxiety level started to climb.

“What are you looking for?” I asked.

“We just got our cat home from the cat motel and we put him out to get some sun and he’s disappeared,” replied the old gentleman.

I guessed they moved back in and we hadn’t noticed.

“I think I might know where your cat is,” I admitted as I led him to my house.

When he saw his cat he reached down and picked him up and clutched him to his chest. He was so relieved that he was on the verge of tears. I apologized but the man was so relieved he didn’t respond. He was probably ready to tear a strip off me and knew he wouldn’t respond well.

The next day I received the blood work from my vet. The least I could do was give him the report so I went over and knocked on his door. When I told him why I was there he attempted to pay me but I told him that it was my misadventure and that I would gladly absorb the cost and that I was sorry to cause him distress.

R had been away for a few days while all of this unfolded so when he returned I had to confess to spending $100 on blood work for the neighbour’s cat. He couldn’t believe first that I would spend the money and second, that I would refuse payment. It wasn’t how he would’ve handled things. I knew the whole thing probably wouldn’t have happened if he had been home.

That weekend our neighbour knocked on our door. He had been to his vet and it looked like his cat was going to fare better due to the added information. The cat had a thyroid problem and they were putting him on medication. I replied that it was great news. Then the old gentleman tried to pay me. When I wouldn’t take his cheque, he offered half with another cheque. I was about to refuse when I felt an arm reach over my shoulder. R having overheard the conversation, got up from his chair. With the cheque firmly in his hand he asked,

“How old is your cat?”

“He’s twenty. He used to be our daughter’s cat,” the old man replied.

I knew from speaking to his wife that they had lost their daughter to breast cancer. It was no wonder the cat meant so much to the poor couple. Besides loving the cat for itself they loved him because he was part of their daughters’ life. 

After the man left and I closed the door R stated,

“I better cash this cheque tomorrow.”

Thank goodness I had been pregnant otherwise I think I would’ve put down the neighbours cat!

Our kids were getting older and we decided to buy a pop-up trailer to take them camping so we could see some of the province without spending a fortune on hotel rooms. I loved camping when I was younger and it was an experience that I wanted my kids to have. Once we started camping I realized why I loved it so much as a kid. I was free to explore and free from chores. It was all just fun. What I didn’t realize was how much work it was for my parents. All the packing, organizing and work quickly established the fact that I love hotels and at the very least a cottage with a dishwasher.

One summer we decided to take the kids to Marineland. The jingle and TV commercials convinced the kids that it was a place they wanted to go. It was summer vacation time so we packed up our little pop-up trailer and headed to Yogi Bear campground. Since we were driving right past our friends home we picked up their son M. Our son J was excited that his best buddy was coming alone. Our daughter L was still very young so she didn’t mind that she didn’t have a friend as we were still considered her besties.

The campground was tailored to kids. They had dressed up characters and fun activities that you could join but the absolute favourite thing for our kids was the wagon ride at six pm sharp every night. They loved sitting on the hay bales as the tractor pulled the wagon around the whole campground. Parents waved at their kids who felt very grown up being able to go on the wagon by themselves.

On our second day of camping we headed off the Marineland. For the whole day we took the kids on rides and toured the animal park. What started off as a fun adventure quickly turned into major regret. I couldn’t believe we were supporting such a place. The deer seemed starved as they climbed on us for food that we purchased in our hands to feed them. It wasn’t normal deer behaviour and I noticed there was no shade for the poor animals. Then when we went to the killer whale exhibit I couldn’t believe how small the tank was. These magnificent animals were in horrid conditions. Even the children were becoming aware of the situation. They weren’t that young that they didn’t notice. The jingle “Everyone Loves Marineland” was changed on the way home to “Everyone hates Marineland, watching them die in the hot sun…” I can’t exactly remember the words the kids made up to change the jingle but they sang it for some time after.

On the way home we were hot and tired after dragging three kids around the park. I was planning on making pasta for supper so it would be an easy dinner. R suggested picking up a bottle of wine on the way back to the campsite and I thought that was a grand idea. We pulled into the liquor store parking lot at 5:45. I had forgotten about the wagon ride at six but M in the backseat had not.

“Do you really need wine?” he asked 

I was surprised at his candour. It was only then that I realized he was stressed about making it back to the campsite but I also felt that after such a big day devoted to the kids, I didn’t care.

“Yes, yes we do,” I replied.

When G&C moved for G’s work we missed them terribly. C and I had been parents in crime on our days off. We had taken the children to every museum, farm and playground that our city had to offer. Our children were the same age and it made it seamless to spend time together.

Moving meant that we would have to travel four hours to see each other which we promised to do but feared we wouldn’t.

They moved in the summer and many in their new neighborhood must have had other places to go; whether they were gone for weekends or weeks they didn’t know. All they knew was the place was deserted and the plans to make new friends were not happening. They were very lonely and so when they requested that we visit we gladly packed up and jumped into the car. And so began the visits alternating between our homes. The children loved spending time together as much as we did. We became tourists in our own towns keeping the kids entertained. The only difference was that now our outings involved the men. It was fun.

Our son J loved G’s joking nature and the fact that he made R laugh, often. J idolized G because when he was visiting the excitement level went up a couple of notches. The routine of a regular bedtime was usually abandoned because of the visit. Everything was about fun.

I don’t know what possessed G one summer, when the boys were kindergarten age, to pull his pants down and press his buttocks to the patio glass door. His wife was disgusted and scolded him but the boys, including R, thought it was hilarious. Maybe, he continued to defile our door was because of the reaction he got from us. I supported C’s disgust at the childish prank and lectured him too. G in his efforts to demonstrate that his wife nor I was not in charge of him continued to pants us multiple times over the weekend. The madder we got the louder their son and ours, laughed.

They left that Sunday morning and we returned to our regular routine exhausted but happy.

When I am at work I meet individually with clients and cannot be interrupted unless it is an absolute emergency. My husband knows this and so does my extended family. So I was very surprised when the receptionist came back to my operatory to let me know I had a call I needed to take.

I told her to take the number and I would call them back when I had the time. She insisted that I would want to take the call because it was the school calling about my son.

I excused myself from my client and took the call. It was the principal, she said as she went on to inform me that my son on the way to school had pulled his pants down and pressed his bum to the window on the bus flashing people on the road. What she thought of our family and that moment I cannot imagine. I apologized and said I would handle it and thanked her for the call.

When I returned home that evening R and J were subject to a little lecture from me. R figured he was totally innocent but I reminded him that he thought it was funny and J interpreted that as permission to do the same.

I then called G and lectured him on the phone about how part of being a good parent was to be a good example. I spoke to C about it too and together we shut down that little episode and I can honestly say it never happened again. 

One thing we were finding out about living with men and raising boys is there is always something bizarre to deal with. I wonder to this day what the principal thought of the family whose kid would do such a thing.

R’s parental leave was almost over and the push was on to have our son toilet trained before he went back to work. Our son had just turned three and while other people expressed it was getting a little late to start training we had decided to do it after his hernia surgery and after the baby was born. Again I decided on the advice from one of my elderly clients who deduced that our son would have enough change going on in his life and it would be best to wait until things had settled down or else we might end up going through the training twice.

The daycare that we had been sending our son to prior to the birth of our daughter didn’t help the toilet training situation either. They had a toy pirate ship that our son loved but the rule was if you left a toy you gave up your turn playing with it. Our son chose to poop his pants rather than give up that pirate ship.

When I went for the surgical consult prior to our son’s surgery and I removed his diaper, the surgeon couldn’t help but comment that his children were toilet trained at sixteen months. There is nothing like being judged by a stranger. I didn’t say anything but I was sure the surgeon had nothing to do with that and that his wife had to be the one that was trained when the child was that age. I can bet that the child was too young to tell his mother when he had to go. I hoped he was as good a surgeon as my doctor said because I thought as a person he was proving to be an arrogant ass!

Everyone was interested in the “toilet training” at that time it seemed because when we went to my mother-in-laws home to celebrate Christmas with his extended family, that was the first comment on everyone’s lips. They openly deduced that since R was home he was in charge of the toilet training. When they asked him how our son was doing, R replied that we still had the odd accident but for the most part it was going well. I overheard and couldn’t believe that R was taking credit. The training wasn’t happening unless I was home! I interjected with that tidbit of information and R argued, no, no, he was doing the toilet training. We were the only ones on his side of the family who had young children so everyone was interested in our lives.

While we waited for dinner our son decided to entertain himself by playing with the lace curtains in the dining room. The house had nine foot ceilings and the lace curtains went to the ceiling. It just so happened that my mother-in-law had just cleaned them and so was irritated with her grandson getting his fingers all over them. I could sympathize as it must be quite the job to take them down and put them up so I did the best I could trying to deflect his interest into something else while tending to the baby. R was off socializing in the living room. He was hungry for adult company.

It was after dinner when all hell broke loose. I was sitting on the toilet and I guess I had neglected to lock the door. R burst into my private space with a wide eyed panicked look on his face and our son in tow.

“J shit his pants and wiped his bum on the curtains!”

He was horrified and rightly so. His mother would not be happy and the shit might permanently ruin her expensive curtains.

“You take care of J and I will see what can be done with the curtain,” I replied as I left the bathroom. R was relieved to pass his anxiety to me so I could save the day. Hopefully.

I took a spoon and scraped the excrement into the center so it wouldn’t spread and then set about taking the curtain down. Thank goodness the dining room was abandoned by this time as everyone had moved into the living room. Everyone knew what had happened except my mother-in-law so they were all trying to suppress their laughter.

My mother-in-law knew something was up and was getting upset that she wasn’t in on the joke and demanded to know what was going on. I told her that I would tell her as long as she promised not to get angry.

“Your grandson shit his pants and wiped his bum on your dining room curtains!”

I could see the struggle inside her as she pretended to smile. Laughter was not in her wheelhouse at that moment.

“Don’t worry I’m taking care of the curtain and it should be fine,” I assured her. I only prayed I was right.

We were all having coffee and cake in the living room when R held up his hands to make an announcement.

“I think everyone should know that my wife is the one in charge of toilet training.”

 Then everyone exploded in laughter.

Our daughter was born in May and by July my family figured we could join them on the family camping trip at Murphy’s Point. It wasn’t too far from Ottawa and they said that our son would love it and would settle well at night as he would be in the fresh air all day. They would take care of everything. I would only have to worry about the baby. I guess I was too tired to see it as the con job it was.

They set up the camp for us in a lovely community camping site. I had loved camping as a child and this looked like it was going to be fun. I was breast feeding so that was easy and portable. True to their word they did keep our son entertained during the day. But, as it turned out, he was too excited. When it was his bedtime his eyes were wide eyed and sparkled like he was on some kind of stimulant as he roasted marshmallows by the fire with his older cousins. I had put him in a pull-up and he was in running shoes and a t-shirt with dirt stuck everywhere. He didn’t even look like our child. He looked like some waif in an Oliver Twist movie. Prying him away from the fire to get him cleaned up was going to take some effort. Clutching the baby to my chest I out-sourced the job to his father who at the time seemed quite relaxed, beer in hand. He quickly lost that demeanor as he had to carry our struggling toddler to the bathroom to clean him up for bed. I could hear the sounds of protest in our camp which was close to the washrooms. R had his hands full. When they returned from the bathroom the baby was asleep and tucked in the tent under a bug net so R was relieved he could hand our son off to me. Now it was my job to get him to settle for bed. I held him in my arms as he struggled to be released. He was strong and strung out on sugar from the marshmallows and didn’t give up until he finally passed out around 10:30. By that time I was physically exhausted and I decided to go to bed too.

My husband and brother-in-law stayed up by the fire using slingshots to keep the raccoons at bay. Murphy’s Point was over-run with raccoons at the time and you could see their beady eyes catch the light from the fire from time to time. There were dozens of pairs of eyes staring back and it was a bit unnerving. I was lying just inside the tent and could see the back of the men as they chatted and fired off rocks with their slingshots. They had a bag of chips between them and a bold raccoon had snuck up and was helping himself to their open bag of chips. He sat there looking into the forest like one of the guys. At one point the sound of crunching chips was quite loud and the men looked at each other to see who was eating so loudly. They then looked down to see the raccoon who had been calmly watching the show while sharing their chips. When they spied the raccoon they screamed like school girls and jumped, tipping out of their chairs in record time. I giggled into my pillow at their show of bravery. After they tried to return to some kind of decorum they decided to give up their activity and go to bed.

Once R joined me on our inflatable mattress I confessed to having seen it all and chuckled as he reiterated at the shock of having the raccoon so close. I fell asleep quickly but my rest did not last. Our son woke up having peed the bed so I got him changed into dry clothes. He was so tired he couldn’t stay awake as I changed him. After he was dry I tucked him into bed to warm up with his father. His bedding and mattress were soaked. He must’ve gotten into the pop with his cousins. By this time it was getting cold and I worried about our daughter being warm enough so after I fed her I decided to continue to hold her in my arms to keep her comfortable. I sat up all night in the corner of our tent holding the baby.

When everyone got up in the morning I expressed my desire to go home. My family argued that we shouldn’t go home until after supper so that they could help with the children and I could try and rest. I have never been one who is able to nap in the daytime but I tried. 

After supper we packed up and drove an hour to our home. R unloaded the children and tucked them right into bed. We unpacked the car and then R made us a cocktail which we enjoyed on our back patio. We were so happy to be home. We celebrated and swore we wouldn’t go camping again for a very long time and raised our glasses to seal the pact.

We were in the thick of things with parenting our first born. It took him nine months to finally sleep through the night. So it was with clear heads when we decided taking care of two couldn’t be much different than taking care of one. Once it was decided I was pregnant, again. We thought that it might take us some time to get in the family way but that was not the case.

Luckily my pregnancy was uneventful but I was hearing horror stories about the first born not accepting the new baby. Clients of mine told me of their first born wanting to leave the baby outside in the winter after a walk and another told me when they left to step into the kitchen momentarily the baby started to scream. Upon their return they saw a red hand mark on the baby’s cheek and their toddler trying to look innocent. 

I did get some useful advice; one parent told me to call the baby in my belly ‘his baby’ as in our son’s baby. Nothing that belongs to the child can be bad. So that’s what we did. I also planned a big brother present when his father brought him to the hospital to see the baby.

We welcomed a healthy beautiful baby girl. She was small and her big blue eyes immediately captured our hearts. The visit with me and the baby was on the way to McDonald’s for lunch. The plan was to stop and see mom and the baby on their way to McDonalds. He came in, looked at the baby, opened his present then said, “Bye mom, we are going to McDonalds.” There was no crying at having to leave me because he had something better to do.

When we were finally all home as a family he took his big brother duties to heart. He was very good at telling me the baby was crying. I knew it was because he wanted me to shut her up but it still made me smile.

By this time R was with a good company and was eligible for parental leave. I was in a job that didn’t have benefits so again I only stayed home long enough to heal and wean the baby. 

R found out that the dream quite often doesn’t match reality. I think in his mind being off work with two kids was going to be a picnic. Even I thought it was going to be better than it was. I didn’t have to worry about someone else taking care of the children while I was at work because who better than their father to do it?

My job was totally client centered and I didn’t have time to worry about what was going on at home but that didn’t stop R from calling for any little thing. Eventually our receptionist, who was an older woman, got very good at giving him advice so she wouldn’t have to disturb me. Of course the situations weren’t all little. One day I got a call that while he was changing the baby, our toddler disappeared. I was twenty-five minutes away and helpless but he needed me to share in his panic. I told him to take the baby with him and scour the street. R found our toddler at the end of our street. He had seen someone pulling a boat behind a truck and left the house to follow the boat! From that time on R learned to take the toddler with him when he had to tend to the baby and visa versa.

After we sorted our family life out we were ready to socialize again and our friends C&G came over for an evening. After a few cocktails I proceeded to unload on C about the difficulties of R being home with the children. She was surprised, she thought he was handling things well as the house was clean and the kids were happy. I informed her that R was depressed and that I was working all day and coming home to make supper and clean up.

 “But at least he’s doing the laundry,” she countered.

 “Do you want to see how he’s doing the laundry?” I replied.

I proceeded to show her our spare room with clean laundry piled high in a heap.

“He puts it in the washer and then the dryer and then throws it on the bed. The wrinkles are so bad that I have to rewash anything that I plan to wear.”

The one benefit of R staying home for that period of time was that he learned to respect how difficult it was being at home taking care of children. Some of our friends’ husbands whose wives stayed home with their children imagined it was easy and that they would have all sorts of extra time to do other jobs like mowing the grass. These men never learned to truly value the difficult life of a stay at home mom. It is a hard job that is filled with temporary moments of boredom that infiltrates a tired and over burdened day.

It was time to go back to work. Three months had gone by in a blur. I was worried about leaving the baby when he was so young but I was placated by the fact that he would be taken care of by his father for two days and a family member for two days. I didn’t have to deal with strangers.

My husband was reassured because his elderly Italian mother would be coming to help him. I thought it would be great for him to spend time with his mother and the baby without me.

We had bought a video camera to capture precious moments so I suggested my husband film parts of their day so I wouldn’t miss anything. Because the baby had such a difficult start to life, I decided to continue to pump breast milk while at work. It wasn’t an easy task but my baby was worth it.

It was all I could do to keep it together at work, I missed my baby so much. Finally at the end of day I headed home anxious to know what had happened while I was away. After the baby was fed and put to bed I sat down with a cup of tea to see the film my husband had recorded. What was to be a pleasurable moment turned to horror as I watched my mother-in-law spoon pablum into my poor crying baby’s mouth. I freaked out! I explained in a high octave, with tears in my eyes, how pablum was not to be given at this age; how foods are introduced slowly and with care to make note of allergies and that to care for our baby properly it was clear I was going to have to quit work.

It was R’s turn to be horrified. He started to see the video through my eyes and promised nothing like the sort would happen again. He would promise anything, we needed me to work. I calmed down when I realized he was on board with my way of thinking.

We were the first of our friends to start a family but once we were expecting, the race was on. It was going to be fun to have people in the same boat. Our children would have friends to entertain them and we would have each other for support.

Our close friends C&G were the next to start a family. Their baby was born five months after ours. He was small and born a little early too but luckily, didn’t have any health issues. What was hilarious is that he sported a lid of hair that made him look like Don King. His hair stood straight up, was thick, dark and longer than his sweet little face.

We didn’t socialize too much in those early days as our schedules were dictated by our babies but we planned to spend New Years Eve together, at our place. As it got closer C was worried that they might have to cancel as their little boy who’s sleep schedule had been so good was now refusing to settle. He wanted to be picked up and rocked all the time. It was bad timing as C was preparing to go back to work in the new year.

I suspected that C being a doting, loving mother, reacted every time her baby squawked. I asked her if that was the case. She admitted that yes it broke her heart to hear him cry. I told her to come and not to worry that we would make it work.

On New Year’s Eve we had a lovely meal and thoroughly enjoyed our evening. The plan was for them to stay overnight so we could indulge in a few cocktails. As the night progressed it was clear that their little boy was stubbornly going to refuse to sleep unless Mommy or Daddy held him. He was tired, fed and dry so I encouraged her to lay him down and let him wail and he would hopefully fall asleep. We held their hands and told them to let him cry. He had a powerful set of lungs and was headstrong. I don’t think he stopped until three in the morning but he did eventually fall asleep. C’s nerves were frayed and we were all exhausted by that time so we went to bed.

The next morning her little guy was his normal happy self. He hadn’t suffered.

C&G were packing up for home when we realized it was -50 Celsius outside, super cold. G went out to warm up their car. All of a sudden we heard a loud explosion followed by G coming back in the house looking dazed and white as a sheet. I guess he had flooded the car with so much gas that when it ignited it blew a hole in the exhaust! It must’ve been like he was sitting on top of a bomb.

It was a tiring night all things considered and they went home to recover. 

C told me later that her little guy continued to wail every night when she put him down but each night it was for shorter periods. 

There were many times when the babies were young that we needed our friends, whether it was for emotional support or entertainment. It was nice to have someone experiencing the same trials and tribulations of family life. We shared our knowledge and sympathies and were stronger for it.

 

 

Our home was a small compartmentalized bungalow and I was dying to open it up so it would feel more spacious. I had big plans and I would constantly bring up the subject of renovating and my ideas with R who did not want to think about it. 

Finally one day when I again expressed a desire to knock out a front closet to expand the living room he replied, “Okay in the new year.”

I thought, ‘Yay! I had won him over to the idea.’

When we brought our son home we were told he needed to be fed every three hours. He was premature and somewhat lethargic so we had to wake him to feed. I also had to strip him down to just his diaper for him to stay awake long enough to get sustenance. This schedule left us both very tired and I know that R had hoped I was too tired to even think of renovations. If anything it made me even more determined as all I could do was imagine how much more convenient things would be after the renovations were done. I was like a dog with a bone. We bought a fixer so we needed to fix it, was my take on things. While R was more in line with, why do we need to fix anything, aren’t things good enough for now?

We planned for me to be off work for three months. Enough time for me to heal and the baby to be grown enough for me to leave him. By the second month I felt well physically and I no longer needed to rest when the baby did. R was working hard and often had to work evenings so I spent a lot of time alone with the baby. A lot of the time was spent staring at the huge closet that was a fifth of the size of our living room. New Year’ Eve was fast approaching and I could hardly wait. As luck would have it R had to work New Year’s Eve. I had my sledge hammer at the ready with a bunch of cardboard boxes saved. After I fed our son I put him down in his crib at the far end of the house with the door closed and started to smash the drywall of the front hall closet and fill the boxes. R came home from work to find the driveway lined with boxes of drywall and wood. I managed to get it all down save one post which required brute strength, the kind that I didn’t have. I was quite proud of all that I had done so I wasn’t prepared for R’s reaction. When he opened the door he could see me sitting on the couch through the area where the closet had been. The look on his face turned from surprise to anger. He was furious! I couldn’t understand why? I had waited until the New Year and I had saved him all the work of tearing it down. 

It was when he pointed out holes in the flooring that had to be fixed that I realized why he was so angry. It meant he was on a time line and he didn’t like those. The holes in the floor would have to be fixed before the baby started to crawl. In my mind, there was plenty of time until then. 

R eventually calmed down enough to have the celebratory snacks that I had prepared but he still wasn’t ready to talk to me. We sat in silence munching on shrimp cocktail, bacon wrapped scallops and veggie’s with dip. I could tell that the food was softening his angry resolve but I was still on ‘ignore’. Finally after his second glass of wine he asked me what I had planned for the floor. I told him that I had spoken with my parents and they suggested filling it in with hardwood to match the existing flooring and that my dad offered his help. He liked that plan and I could see his shoulder’s relaxing some more.

The next day R had off and was looking forward to spending time with me and the baby. I would be going back to work in a month and he would be taking care of the baby on his own a few days a week so I thought he should get used to changing diapers. I had been doing most of the diaper changes but that needed to stop. Our son was very small and only on breast milk so his diapers weren’t even real stinky. That afternoon when a change was needed I handed him to R who took him into the baby’s room to change on the change table. The next thing I know R had bolted from the room leaving the baby on the change table alone. As he vomited in the toilet I went running to the room. It was dangerous to leave the baby on the change table by himself! He could fall off and get hurt but luckily he was much too small and too young to roll over. That day he was safe but who knew at what stage he wouldn’t be? When R returned I scolded him about what he had done and then asked why all of a sudden did changing a diaper make him sick? He replied that he was shocked because the diaper instead of being filled with yellow poop was filled with dark green poop as if the baby had been consuming algae. It was a surprise to me too but I found out later it was quite normal. It was then I realized that we had to install a puke bucket next to the diaper pail. R wasn’t getting off that easy.

 

It was Tuesday, after a long weekend, I was supposed to work but I was in labour. It was too soon and I worried. We quickly gathered the bag we had packed in preparation for this moment and headed to the hospital. 

We had just had our tour of the new delivery rooms and they had large tubs for couples to use while the mother was in labour. R was looking forward to getting in the tub. I could tell by the way he smiled at the thought. He had packed his bathing suit amongst other things to occupy us as we were told the first child usually meant a long period of labour.

 In the car we argued over the route to the hospital. I mistakenly assumed that since I was the one giving birth that I was in command. Not so. R figured I wasn’t thinking straight and said so.

We made it to the hospital and were rushed to a room where they put monitors on my stomach. R wasn’t a morning person and quickly ran to get a coffee. He wasn’t gone long and had just gotten back and seated when all hell broke loose. The doctor must’ve seen something he didn’t like on the monitor because it was with some urgency that I was wheeled into an operating/ delivery room. R in his haste kicked his coffee across the floor. In the delivery room, which had no signs of a tub or the little luxuries we had seen, there was stainless steel everywhere with large mirrors on the ceiling. The doctor couldn’t wait for a nurse and needed R’s help to hold one of my legs. By the time the baby crowned the room was full of people. The baby was delivered and rushed off in an incubator while they took care of me. We had a son and I was told that I could meet him after he was stabilized. They assured me he was going to be alright but the first time I saw him was when I was able to walk to the nursery that afternoon. He looked so small.

When R and I got married I did not take his name. My name was who I was and changing my name felt like ownership so I didn’t. I told R that I could assume his name in social settings but legally I wasn’t taking it. I had a good credit rating and had worked hard to get it and I had also been employed in the court system for a while. In divorce court I had witnessed women losing their credit ratings and identity by changing their names. Women who had been married for thirty years had no credit unless it was tied to their husbands. I intended for my name to be on every legal document in our marriage and I wasn’t changing it. R acquiesced but neglected to tell his family. So, when his family came to the hospital looking for the baby under R’s last name the baby couldn’t be found. Everyone was surprised to find out, at that moment, that I wasn’t Mrs. R. It caused a little bit of a stir.

I was told I would get my son later that afternoon but when that time rolled around I was put off again to the next feeding and then the next. I went to bed that night not having held my son. In the middle of the night I woke to hear all of the babies getting wheeled to their mothers from the nursery and so, I went in search of mine and was told that the doctor was being called. When the doctor arrived he told the nurse to let me hold my child and then he proceeded to tell me that for reasons they didn’t know some male babies don’t thrive and that mine might die. He was small, pale and seemed to have little life in him. He lay limp in my arms. They were going to put him through a battery of tests and do everything possible to make sure that didn’t happen. I phoned R who was at home since it was 3 a.m. and told him the news. He told me to try and not worry that everything was going to be alright. I didn’t believe him.

 R worked that next day because we were so worried about money but asked me if he should skip his scheduled CPR class that night. I told him that if our son survives we might have a very sick child, that he should go to CPR and I would be alright.

That day I held my baby skin to skin, close to my heart whenever he wasn’t being poked and prodded. They did a spinal tap, took blood and then I had to wait for results. I breastfed and supplemented with a bottle to make sure he was getting enough nutrients. This was before they knew about the effects of what is now called kangarooing. It was instinctive for me to want the baby to hear my heart as he did in my womb.

The following day our son improved so much that we were told we were going to be discharged. It was unheard of to be discharged from the intensive care nursery and everyone rejoiced.

R came to pick us up and then informed me that his mother was coming over to our home as soon as we got home. I told him to please tell her to come the next day but he was adamant that she be welcomed in our home that day. I was frustrated, exhausted and stressed. I just wanted some quiet bonding time with our nuclear family.

We were not home for more than twenty minutes when R’s cousin showed up with my mother-in-law. I was devastated. This sweet little Italian woman came in and sat down. R was rushing around to make her feel at home and I felt that they were in their own little world, a club that I wasn’t a part of so I got up, handed her my child and went to the bedroom to bawl my eyes out.

The stress of giving birth, facing the possible death of my child and the raging hormones in my body finally took its toll. I had no strength left. R was shocked. He had never seen me fall apart and I think it scared him. He immediately realized he was wrong to allow his mother to come over and came into the bedroom and promised to ‘get rid’ of her right away.

I realized that her love for her son was no less than my love for mine. But, her enthusiasm for a grandchild, that she had given up hope of ever having, had overridden any empathy for me.

From that moment I swore that when he grows up I would try not to impose myself in his romantic relationships. I promised to be supportive and try to take a step back and wait to be included and asked for help. But, right now he was mine and I would try my best to be a good mother.

 

I was pregnant! It was funny how R totally disregarded the money factor when it came to raising a family. He was ecstatic while I was too worried to enjoy the news. We had a roof over our heads but we would have to dip into our savings to cover the mortgage for the time I was off. It was scary to think about it and we had to keep our expenses to a minimum to save for the baby. I worried constantly about money and everything else. My body was changing and although I had often heard women say they enjoyed being pregnant, I didn’t. I felt fat and restricted in my movements and my stomach turned over on a dime.

 We had made a decision when we got married to discuss any large expenses so you can imagine my surprise when R came home with a central air conditioner. Even at cost it was a big expense. I had learned that it is hard to argue with R. He would agree in principle but then he would do what he wanted anyway regardless of the agreement. The only way to get through to him I discovered, was to put him in the same position he put me in and wait for the realization of the situation. And so it was with the A/C unit. I discussed our previous agreement and he reiterated that we needed it so I promptly went out and purchased a large chair for the living room without consulting him. At this rate we were going to be in the poorhouse soon but maybe it would put the ‘brakes on’ spending, at least that was what I was hoping. As expected he was livid but when I said “we needed it”, repeating his exact words, it finally dawned on him that it was tit for tat. We then had another discussion about expenses. He explained that he had heard that pregnant women frequently feel overheated and I was about to go through the summer pregnant and he was only thinking of me. It was thoughtful all right, but deep down I thought he was also doing it for himself. I know he was afraid of me becoming more unbearable than I already was. My femininity frustrated me to no end. As much as I wanted to be equal to a man, it was times like this that I was reminded that I could not always, no matter how hard I tried. Damn biology! I did not like to rely on anyone but myself and I think for the most part R liked my independence. He didn’t like my frustration.

I worked through my pregnancy and we both felt I could only take a short time off after the baby was born. We needed my income to cover our expenses. Near the end of my pregnancy the doctor wanted me to quit a month prior to our plans. R and I could not see that happening so the doctor said that provided I put my feet up when I got home and did absolutely nothing I could continue to work. R was to do all the chores from then on. The doctor made him swear that he would do the cooking, the dishes and any other tasks that needed doing and R readily agreed.

I had come into the relationship with a portable dishwasher that had a butcher block top. I loved that thing but R didn’t think it was a valuable appliance. He had been brought up in a home without one. My mother on the other hand had sworn that after we had a dishwasher there were fewer colds in our house. The dishes were sterilized so her logic made some sense. I loved the convenience and the shine of the dishes after they came out of the dishwasher. R didn’t like that the dishwasher was in the middle of the kitchen and always in his way. My attitude was ‘deal with it’.

The day after I was told I couldn’t do anything other than work, my beloved old dishwasher kicked the bucket. R didn’t want to admit it but I could tell he was horrified. He would now be in charge of washing dishes and whether he wanted to admit it or not he had become dependent on the dishwasher too. How fortunate it was that the dishwasher kicked the bucket at the exact time when it wouldn’t affect me? And so, we discussed the purchase of a new dishwasher.

It is surprising how fast R can get things done when he wants to. The very next day he brought home a cabinet styled dishwasher, made room for it in the cupboards and installed it. I watched and smiled. The secret of motivating R was revealed. If it affected him directly then he would quickly fix the problem. Now I had to figure out how to make that happen on a regular basis so we could get this house up to par.