My baby girl turns three tomorrow, this is her birth story.

This time, three years ago, I was on my way to the hospital. I was fairly certain my water had broken, and was encouraged to head in to check it out. Contractions were very mild and quite irregular, so I was sure it would be a while still before we met our sweet little baby. After all, first time moms typically labour for 8-12+ hours.

When we arrived at the hospital, we checked in with the ER and we’re sent to Labour & Delivery for assessment. All of the tests for amniotic fluid were inconclusive, and I was not dilated so home we went.

I still felt like this was it, so instructed my husband to hit the McDonald’s drive thru for cheeseburgers (can’t be hungry while having a baby).

When we got home it was around 11pm. I tried to sleep, but was uncomfortable laying down as contractions had started picking up. They were still manageable so I sat by myself, in the dark (what I wanted in that moment) and rode them out, waiting for them to get to that elusive 4:1:1 we were told about in prenatal class and by the nurses at the hospital. By about 1:30am, they were pretty strong, but not the required 1 minute long. My instinct told me to go back anyways. So that we did.

When we arrived again, I was checked. 1 cm!! Progress!! But not nearly enough to get a room. The nurse told us to walk around for an hour to get things going, then come back for another check.

At 3:06am, I sent my mom a text explaining the situation. I was planning on having her with me during the delivery.

This is when things get a little blurry for me. We walked a bit, about 20 minutes I’m told by my husband, and the contractions started getting really hard to handle, but I was determined not to go back before my hour was up and to power through. I felt like I was going to throw up, could barely walk, and really had to go to the bathroom. I felt like I couldn’t go on. I felt like I was failing. I now realize this was transition, but at the time felt so defeated. I couldn’t even handle early labour, or so I thought.

By the time I waddled my way back to L&D, my body was spontaneously pushing. The nurses told me to stop (ha!). They checked me and sure enough, 10cm. Less than an hour later. They got the room ready, called my doctor, and about 15 mins later it was go time.

At 4:22am on Sunday, September 23, 2012, I heard the words “it’s a girl!” and I became a mama.

The moment I became a mom

The moment I became a mom

Three years has flown by (although at times, life felt static). My sweet baby S is now an independent, talkative, energetic preschooler, with a smile and a heart to warm a room. Happy birthday baby girl. I’m so glad I get to be your mama!


On diaper pails (see also: things I never thought I’d be excited about)

When S was born we were given a Diaper Genie. At first I though diaper pails were gimmicky, but once I discovered the sheer volume of baby poop I’d be dealing with on a daily basis it made much more sense. Add to that the fact that we were living in a 700 square foot condo, and I was sold.

Fast forward nearly three years, two broken Diaper Genies and countless packs of refill bag purchases, I began searching for an alternative for J.

Enter the Ubbi.


We just got it a week ago so I can’t comment on durability, etc. But so far I am really impressed.

My favorite features include:

  • it’s not ugly… added bonus: it comes in some really cute colours (we got white as it sits on our hallway, but if it lived in a kids room you could totally match the decor).
  • you can use any ol’ bag, even grocery bags
  • it seems pretty good at containing the stink
  • it can be used for cloth or disposable diapers… whatever floats your boat

I’ll try to remember to update in a couple of months with a more in-depth review. But for now, I’ll just say if you are in the market for a diaper pail, this is worth looking in to.

Mom bod

I’m not sure if it’s because I carried and birthed two tiny humans. But my body confidence is higher now than ever before.

I didn’t gain a tonne of weight with either pregnancy (about 25 pounds each time). But I felt huge. Wonderfully huge. I didn’t lose all the baby weight from S before getting pregnant with J, but I did drop that baby weight quickly (likely too quickly… But it just happened).

In any case, I am back to my pre-babies weight but am shaped differently. My clothes still don’t fit right. I’m still “soft” in all the wrong places. But I love my ‘mom bod’. In fact I have more body confidence now than I did 10 years ago.

Keri Washington was recently quoted saying

“My body is the site of a miracle now. I don’t want to be pre-miracle” and I couldn’t agree more.

Mamas, whether you have lost some, all, or none of the weight, you grew a human. Maybe even more than one. You sustained life. You are a rockstar superhero and should be proud. Don’t try to be pre-miracle, just be. Be happy. Be healthy. Be your kick ass mama self.

Seven months in

Today my not-so-little boy turns seven months old. I meant to write this for his half birthday last month, but things are busy with two kids. And sometimes most times sleep wins over any other task.

The past half-year (plus a month) has been quite the ride filled with its fair share of tears:

  • Tears of pain
    • Childbirth, sans drugs. Enough said. (For those inquiring minds, I will one day post my birth stories, but not today).
    • Those first couple weeks of breastfeeding. (Anyone who tells you it doesn’t hurt if you are doing it right is a liar).
    • The day baby J learned to pinch.
  • Tears of joy
    • Hearing “it’s a boy!” in the delivery room. (We didn’t find out the sex of either baby, and Tummy time buddiesI so highly recommend that experience. Nothing, in my opinion, can compare to that incredible, emotion-filled moment). I wasn’t hoping for a boy. Or a girl for that matter. Just a healthy baby. Truthfully. But I was so overwhelmingly excited to hear that I had just given birth to a boy, more so than I ever thought I would be.
    • Seeing big sis love on her little bro, and seeing him love her back. Even when he grabs fistfuls of her hair or when she pokes him in the eye.
    • Experiencing my heart grow to a size I never knew could be possible.
  • Tears of anxiety, frustration, and sheer exhaustion
    • These all go together and relate to the reality of adjusting to life with a newborn and a toddler. It’s tough. So amazingly tough. Wonderful. But tough. Did I mention it’s tough?
  • And even a few tears of sadness
    • This is in all likelihood our last baby (although I’m not ready to admit it or make anything permanent yet. Just can’t. Cue the tears), and it’s totally bittersweet experiencing each “first” and knowing it’s also a “last”.

On that note, happy 7 months J! You are quite possibly the happiest little man I have ever met. I love you too pieces. (And refuse to admit that you are more than half way to one year old)!

Hello world!

My toddler is potty training and my baby is in the thick of some sort of sleep regression. So what do I do? Start a blog of course!

All good relationships begin with an introduction, so here goes. I’m a mama of two, wife of one, and lover of coffee and wine (not always in that order). I’m a city girl living a suburban life, surviving this stay at home mom gig one sticky smile at a time.

This will be my outlet to share, vent, laugh, cry and reflect. Welcome.