A pumpkin-colored baby on Thanksgiving Day

Yesterday was one of those I-can't-do-this days. Piper needed to have some blood work done at the Women's and Children's Hospital, and it was the last thing I wanted to do. It was raining, she was feeling icky from her lingering cold, I was stressed by all the boxes and mess surrounding us, and I just wanted to stay wrapped up in a blanket at home while she played on the living room floor. I also really, really didn't want to go driving someplace I had never been before, putting my directionally challenged brain to the test (all while a little girl fussed in the backseat, since she's not been loving the car lately). I would have to find the hospital, find and pay for parking, all with baby in tow, and all in the rain. Then I would have to figure my way around a massive hospital to find one tiny laboratory room. Ugh. I contemplated appealing to Jeremy's sympathy and telling him I couldn't do it by myself and would need him to come along. But then I thought about how he's going to be taking so much time off to help with the move. And the truth is, I knew I could do it; I just didn't want to do it.

So I stopped grumbling to myself, gathered our stuff, bundled up the Peanut, trekked through the rain to our car and headed towards the hospital with Google directions in hand. For some reason, I thought the trip would take a really long time, but it was much faster than I thought. And on top of that, Piper was pretty happy for most of the trip. I easily found a parking spot, got a little bit damp trying to put Piper in her Ergo carrier and pay for parking, but before we knew it, she was registered, we found the lab, she had her heel pricked (okay, that part was really hard), and we were done! I even managed to stop at a Starbucks counter in the hospital lounge on our way out the door. Sweet!

As I drove home, I had a little talk with God. I told Him I was thankful for the little mercies He shows me every day. And as I thanked Him for those subtle ways He reminds me of His assistance and love, I began to think about that hospital experience - about the many worried-looking parents and sick little kids I saw on those hospital floors. There are so many serious illnesses people have to face every day. And watching a child go through all that - I can't even grasp how difficult that would be. For us, we were simply there to get some blood work done for Piper. We've had a few people comment on her skin tone looking a little yellow/orange, and we started noticing it in some pictures we recently took. And of course I did the last thing a parent should do (but the first thing they usually do) - I Googled it. I began to read about jaundice and bilirubin levels and liver problems and - oh my gosh - brain damage. Our doctor said it's probably nothing to be worried about but that we should get her bilirubin levels checked, just in case. It's probably just that she's been eating a lot of sweet potatoes, carrots, squash and other food that have high carotene levels. This can literally turn a baby's skin orange. Who knew?!

Anyway, isn't it just like God to send you one of those in-your-face, real-life reminders of why you should be truly thankful? It feels like a cliche to say, "I'm thankful for good health," but when you're walking down a hospital corridor, carrying your happy little gurgling, healthy baby, and you see child after child after child who isn't healthy . . . well, it puts things in perspective. Sure, it's annoying to get drenched in the rain and stressed out about parking and finding your way around a big hospital - but I was in and out of that hospital in less than an hour. My child didn't love getting her blood drawn, but it was over and done with in minutes, and now we get to move on with life. I'm truly thankful for these moments when He opens my eyes a little wider to the beautiful blessings I take for granted.

My little pumpkin-pie baby

Leaving home

The countdown is on - we have three days left in our home. On Friday afternoon, the moving truck will pull up to our apartment, pack up our stuff for the umpteenth time and move us away from the home we've known for a year. And we're talking about a big year here. We've moved A LOT in our marriage, but this time feels different. Last year at this time, I was eight months pregnant, huge, tired, excited, nervous about the future, eager to prepare our home for our soon-to-arrive baby. I loved setting up her room, going through her clothes and toys, imagining how her presence would fill our home. There's something about having a baby that makes you feel like you're truly creating a home for the first time.

Although I really like our new place, this move is somewhat sad. I've come to know this as Piper's home, her only home so far. Her adorable little nursery is her space, and soon it will be gone. Well, not gone, but it'll be different.

I'm realizing that these last four days are her last "normal" for a while. On Friday night, she'll be sleeping in a new room, and then we'll be bustling about, trying to unpack. Then we'll be off to the States for a full two and a half weeks, where we'll switch "homes" twice. Then back to a home that's not yet familiar. And almost right away, I start back to work. I'll be there part-time (more on that later), but Piper will have to spend several days a week in daycare. I know she'll learn to adjust to all these things in time, but I feel bad that we're going to put her through so much. And like every parent, I worry about disrupting her sleep patterns. She's a fantastic night sleeper, and she's doing much better these days on naps. Will a new room and new surroundings and jet lag totally throw her off?

For all these reasons, I've decided to continue nursing her a little while longer. I had planned to stop when she turned a year old (a little over a month away!), but with all the newness and change happening in her life, I feel like it would be a bad time to take away one more source of comfort and familiarity from her.

For now, I'm trying not to hang on too sentimentally to this place - trying not to picture bringing her home for the first time, watching the sun rise from our window in those newborn days, teaching her to sleep in her crib for the first time. You can see I'm doing a terrible job at remaining unsentimental. Oh well. Life will go on, we'll all adjust in time, and we'll continue to make wonderful memories in our new home.

Now I'm especially glad we had these photos taken on our front stoop when Piper was a wee little one

Vancouver 2010!

It's a very exciting time to be living in Vancouver. The Olympics will be here soon! In fact, the sports arena across the street from us has been preparing for months. It's going to be the site for women's hockey. They've been doing landscaping work, adding artistic structures and tearing up a nearby field. We're not sure what they're going to do with that area, but I heard it may be turned into outdoor skating rinks (maybe for warmups?). That's one reason why I'm sad we're moving this week. It would be fun having an Olympic event in my front yard! Well, okay, the traffic would be horrible and we probably wouldn't be able to afford going to any of the events, but I'm sure it would still be exciting. Oh well. Maybe we can come back to visit.

Piper with the Olympic mascots. I think they scared her a little, but that was probably because they towered over her.


Go Canada! (Now we just need a U.S.A. bear)

Ho, ho! Uh oh.

We were at the mall the other day doing a little bit of Christmas shopping when who should appear but Santa and Mrs. Claus! The jolly - and very authentic-looking - Mr. and Mrs. Claus even came over to say hello to our little Piper girl. But surprise, surprise, Piper was none too pleased by their presence. I suspected as much. Several months ago, a very kind Jamaican man came over to say hello to us. Piper FREAKED out. He was the nicest man, but he did have a rather huge beard and wild and crazy dreadlocks. Then, a few days later, a very gentle old man with a white beard (who looked a lot like Santa Claus) approached her to say hello. FREAKED OUT once again. I remember thinking, Uh oh, this doesn't bode well for Ol' St. Nick. It seems she has an aversion to beards!

So, although it would be very cute to get her photo taken with Santa on her first Christmas, I think we may forgo that "pleasure" and appreciate him from a distance. Although, aren't those photos of screaming babies on Santa's lap sort of cute? No, no, I won't subject her (or Santa) to that distress, even if it would make a very memorable photo. Maybe someday, after she realizes Santa's not such a scary guy.

Which brings me to another issue. What does your family do (or plan to do) about the Santa Claus myth? Jeremy and I have been discussing how we're going to handle this issue once Piper's older. When I was a child, I remember believing Santa Claus was real, and I don't think my parents ever told us otherwise, until we came right out and asked them. I don't even remember finding out he wasn't real. So either I figured it out on my own or they came right out and told me (or maybe it was my sister, who also took it upon herself to enlighten me about "the birds and the bees" - thanks, Amanda); either way, it must not have been a traumatizing experience. I don't remember feeling lied to or confused or upset. Jeremy doesn't remember ever believing in Santa, although there were always gifts from Santa under the tree. Santa was more of a "wink, wink" character in his family.

I'm not sure what we're going to do about it. I would never want there to be so much excitement about Santa that the significance of Christ is lost; nor would I want our children to feel "lied to" about the Santa myth. But, looking back at my own childhood, I think my parents found a way to highlight the true purpose and "Hero" of Christmas (Jesus) while also allowing us to enjoy the fairy tale of Santa. But maybe it's something we should just "play pretend" with, sort of a Santa-isn't-real-but-let's-pretend approach. Of course that brings up the challenge of keeping our kids from ruining other kids' belief in Santa. Wow, this issue is even bigger than I thought! At least we have another year to plan what our approach will be.

What did your parents do, and what do you plan to do with your kids?

Peanut butter tears

Okay, I just cried while watching a peanut butter commercial. It's that one where the mom sends a care package to her daughter in college. And the daughter's calling home to thank her mom while munching on the peanut butter. And she's saying, "I love you, Mom," and the mom is tearing up and saying she loves her daughter, too. Sniff! I started picturing Piper going off to college and how much I'll miss her, and how I'll probably send her care packages and cry on the phone when she calls me. How will my heart stand it? She better not get married and move to another country and have babies. Oh wait. I did that to my mom. And wait. She did that to her mom, too. Is this what they call a generational curse? Piper must break the cycle. She will get married and have babies, but she'll buy the house next door and let me visit her every day. Okay, people, that's the plan.

Why we rock

The lights are out, we sit, we rock. My little one and me. I kiss her velvety head and breathe her sweet baby smell. She feels so big in my arms, her legs stretched fully across my lap, curving round. Heavenly-soft baby skin from curled toes to flushed cheek.

I think of my mother. Her cheek is soft, too. I used to love stroking her cheek. She was my own, my world, my safe place, once upon a time. I think of her enveloping love, and how I used to believe she could fix anything: skinned knee, torn jeans, broken heart. She might not have been able to fix everything, but she never failed. She was mine, and I was hers, and I flourished beneath the sunlight of her love.

A tiny hand reaches up, grabs my fingers, holds on tight. Sleepy face still tucked against my neck. She sighs.

I can hardly believe I'm going to be her mother, her safe place, her trust. It's hard to believe I am, I will be, all those things to my dear little one. The way I felt about my mom, she will feel about me. I hope I can be the mom my mother was, and is, to me.

My heart can barely grasp the way she loves me now. Little girl eyes follow me around, little girl arms reach up to hold me tight. Her face creases into joy-filled smiles. What an honor to be loved so wholly, this - even after a lifetime of love already.

I hold her tighter, we rock, we breathe, together.

She was born and I loved her,
and loved her,
and loved her.
Does love get bigger than this?

Let's dance, let's laugh, let's fall over

Today is Piper's 10-month birthday! We've now hit the double digits, and it feels like a huge difference. In my head, she's not just 10 months old, she's ALMOST ONE YEAR OLD! Now that's a crazy thought, especially when I think about how quickly the next few months will fly by.

Right now we're in the midst of packing, then moving, unpacking, traveling to the States for my sister's wedding, then Christmas, then, then . . . it will be January and my maternity leave will be over and a new life for all of us will begin.

But for now, my little buddy and I are enjoying snuggles in the rocker, lazy afternoons rolling around on the carpet, playdates with friends, visits to the library, lunch dates with Daddy - and lots and lots of laughter.

Could anything be better than dancing with Daddy?



(Don't worry. No babies were harmed in the making of this video. She was still laughing when I went to pick her up. Notice the Cheerio that came flying out of her mouth? Guess it's better than milk spraying out her nose.)