having A DAY, today. The whine is strong with that one. Almost every sentence
he uttered was spoken with a pouting drawl; he took offense to every little
thing. When he wasn’t whining, he was wailing. Sitting in his room bawling
about the unfairness of not being able to steal toys from the baby. Or not being allowed to turn off
the TV when Kadon was watching it. Life is rough, I tell ya.
Usually when he’s having “one of those days” (and really, even when he isn't), it means this mommy is spending a
lot of time cleaning up puke. As many of you know, Eli has had issues with
breathing since… well, birth. Any crying leads to coughing, which leads to
puking, which leads to me cleaning it up or trying to forestall his tirades
instantaneously – which is interesting when said child has a fuse about half a millimeter long.
month Eli was officially diagnosed with asthma at an asthma and allergy
specialist clinic in Edmonton. He …
A picture showed up in my Facebook memories today. A
beautiful picture. This is my little baby belly when Rory was percolating
inside. Not very far along, my belly was swelling with the sign of new life for
the very first time. After 2.5 years of struggling with infertility and
countless trips to the city to see specialists, we found something that worked.
I injected myself in the stomach to force ovulation. We did two rounds of this.
Usually you do up to 4 rounds and if that doesn’t work, it’s the end of the
road before IVF.
I didn’t do the usual “pee on a stick” test. I could have,
but I waited for the official phone call after doing bloodwork on the allotted day.
I didn’t think I could handle looking at another one of those blasted things
and see the one lonely line one more time. (In hindsight, I really should have
bought those things in bulk.)
I remember where I was when the phone call came. I was
curled up in the basement in our oversized, black, leather chair. I knew the
thing was going to be a private message to my sisters. Then, as I was rambling
on in my head, composing my thoughts internally until I could get to my
computer, I realized I may as well turn it into a blog post. Or a novel, as I
seem to be particularly rambly these days.
been thinking about this particular topic for awhile now. Weight loss. Health.
Body image. Cultural conformity. Unrealistic body expectations. I’ve been at
war with my body for most of my life. I remember as a pre-teen being terrified
that someone would find out my weight. I was ashamed of the number on my jeans.
It kind of makes me sad to think about.
it has come with getting older, but lately I have been wanting to reconcile
with my body. To love it. To accept it. We’ve been through a lot together. Too
often when I get on one of those “weightloss kicks” it is preceded by hating my
body. By calling it disgusting. By looking in the mirror and fee…