like fireflies at dusk...

my thoughts shoot about as I go through busy day after busy day. Daily reflections, observations...they happen and I hardly have time to notice. 

I just want to catch them in a jar; savor them.

In the past few days I have been thinking a lot about how I am someone who needs a quiet time each day to contemplate. I can't promise to contemplate anything of importance. Not every time. I just so much enjoy a half an hour to turn inward, float away, and return from my daydream with a better understanding of a topic of my choice. 

Initially I started writing in a public way (I dare not call it a blog - I don't see what I like as "bloggy", do you?) in order to organize my thoughts. If I want someone else to understand what I mean then I must be clear myself. Does that make sense? I hope so.

Life here is beautiful, and I am deliriously in love with my little clan. Yet sensitive, contemplative me has found herself as the matriarch of a little family of intense, bright, exciting and demanding males! And as day turns to night I have rarely had a moment to b-r-e-a-t-h! I end up staying up waaayyy past my bedtime so that I may indulge in Joan Blondina like things, such as knitting, drinking hot earl grey and google-ing hair tutorials (as an example :) ).

Now I am in now way, shape, or form making a resolution - that would be silly. I am, however, asking myself to please try to make time to write. It makes me so happy. I can only do the best I can do, and anything is good. I will even let myself off the hook from including photos in my posts - too much work!  Keep it simple.

Wish me luck!

Love Always,
Joan Blondina

  

long lost blogger...

I just have to explain that I am in no way exaggerating when I say that my child knows the exact moment when I start typing the body of a blog post, even when he is not in the room, and starts to cry. I don't know how he knows... smart kid!

So, I have several one-sentance entries; a collective of clever and witty vinginettes awaiting their potential. It really isn't fair!

Love Always (while typing with one hand and soothing with the other),
Joan Blondina

what I'm wearing...

It's been a frustrating morning. I just want to get the laundry in the wash. I would love to spend more than two seconds on my hair. I need to eat something that is not a half-box of crackers...


I go to put baby down for one minute to pour myself a glass of water (remember when 8 glasses a day was a reasonable feat?) only to realize that baby does not care if his mama is thirsty. He needs me and he needs me NOW.


My inner dialogue starts off on a rant: how breastfeeding mothers need to stay hydrated... how did I, soft spoken and easy going, get such a vocal baby... is water too much to ask for...what the hell are those other mothers doing to get their baby to sit in those stupid bucket car seats all damn day long...

Before I get too carried away, I stop.


I do what feels instinctual. 


I take my wrap and, like second nature, start methodically wrapping baby up, tight against my chest. As I start the process of tucking and tying, baby resists. I bounce a little and reassure him. He melts. Head resting on my chest. Legs like little cooked linguini noodles. Soft breathing. By the time I tuck his little head in and pat his back a few times he's asleep.


I drink my water.

One thing I believe about babies is that you want them to cry.... how else do you know that they need something? There is a reason that a babies cry is shrill and loud: so we never leave them. It's survival. Baby-wearing is the perfect way to honour every baby's need to be close to it's parents. 

Using slings and wraps is not just a trendy granola mom thing to do to fit in with the AP moms and dads. It's a mutually beneficial way to go about your day peacefully and joyfully. It's convenient. It's fun. It has many social, physiological, emotional and developmental benefits for babies, and helps parents bond (the feelings a parents has toward their baby) and facilitate strong attachment (the feelings a baby has toward a parent). Babies get to experience the world and are appropriately stimulated when being worn (properly) in a carrier. 

Wearing Jeremy also means that he is as much a part of this world as I am. When I walk through the market he walks through the market as well, smells, sees and hears what I do. When I wear him he interacts with the people we pass and they interact with him. And when he's such a part of my world I can talk to him about what were doing. His brain is always learning. 

Jeremy sleeps, eats and explores the world from the safety of my body and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Love Always,
Joan Blondina

confessions of an introvert...

This makes me smile. 

I wrote it a little over a year ago at a time when I was spending a lot of energy "being cool". Enjoy!

April 2010

I have this feeling that I want to "un-invent" myself. Forget about what I think I should be like and rediscover who I really am. A flower-in-her-hair-peace-loving-flip-flop-wearing-homebody-who-loves-crafting-and-tea-on-a-Saturday-night.

Yes, that about sums me up! :)

Love Always,

Joan Blondina

time...

Sometimes I feel like the concept of time dissolves our chances of living in the moment and of being content with the present place we are in. I have never felt the pressure of time more than I do now. Days and weeks seem to escape me because as they pass by I can't see what I have done to fill them (as if I healthy, happy, brilliant 17lb baby is not enough!).

These days hanging the laundry on the line while wearing a baby in a sling takes twice the time. Knitting a pair of socks takes a month or more. Nesting in my new home is still a work in progress after three months (my very dirty secret is I have not washed the windows yet... really. never. They are absolutely filthy!). My garden is embarrassingly sparse in the flower department and full in the herbs-that-need-to-be-harvested-before-they-go-to-seed department. Putting thoughts into words takes much longer when done sentence. by sentence. by sentence.

My concept of time must change. While before motherhood I could devout my attention to completing a task, see the results, and celebrate the fruits of my labour (cold glass of Chardonnay?), now I must find a way to be content with what I am able to accomplish with a babe strapped to my chest.

It's a good lesson for me I think.

I am learning that my sense of self is not based on how clean my home is. I am learning that I don't have to plow through a book or a knitting project - books are read paragraph by paragraph not chapter by chapter and sweaters are knit stitch by stitch not arm by arm. I should feel accomplished if I have done a load of laundry and swept the floor, all in one day. Made it to one yoga class this week? Yay for me! Salad out of a box with a squirt of lemon is now considered cooking. And I feel just dandy about spending the afternoon singing songs to my littlest and biggest fan. Dust bunnies? What dust bunnies?

The biggest lesson I have learned this year- to embrace the moment... 

I read a quote, author unknown to me, that says exactly what I need to know : 

"Don't push the river; it flows on its own".

Soon enough Jeremy won't need me like he does now. Soon enough I wont be able to solve all of the worlds problems by nursing him. Soon enough he won't want to snuggle his mama all day long, and he won't think my songs are the bee's knees. Some day he will go to school and play with his friends and not come home until the street lights come on... but not today. Today I will spend the day making him laugh and showing him what cool water feels like on his toes.

Time is teaching me a much needed lesson. As the hands on the clock tick their way through the day I remain grounded in now. I remember what really matters. I grow patient. I am content.

making the bed with babe sleeping on my chest

Love Always,

Joan Blondina

we are forever changed...

love.

On the 27th of June 2010, a little over one year ago, I became a mother.

The discovery of my pregnancy was both shocking and not shocking at all. I knew even before I had proof, but the proof was mind blowing. On the day that I took a pregnancy test I wrote "when we saw the two little pink lines we held each other with teary eyes, our minds racing, thinking of the year to come. We are forever changed." This photo was taken not long after...

fated by two pink lines...

Exactly one year from that day Jeremy turns four months old. Unbelievable. From the moment I learned that he would be coming the preparations and research began. However, when babe does arrive in a pink screaming fit of rage,decisions like where to register for baby showers and  what theme the baby's room will center around seem so... so indulgent! 

As another June 27th comes and goes I remember that feeling like it was only yesterday; the wondering, the imagining, the dreaming, the obsessing over pregnancy "symptoms"...

I remember the way it felt to go so the drug store and purchase prenatal vitamins, or "What to Expect" at the book store. I remember feeling so nervous, like a fraud; the same way I felt as a 17 year old using a fake ID.  Like I needed a permit to go into Babies R Us. Certainly the sales clerk does not consider me to be competent enough to be a parent... Look at me now Lady-At-Chapters!

365 days later, and how things have changed! I don't quite have the words to honour all of the changes Warren and I have gone through... maybe one day. All I know for certain is that life is nothing like I imagined it would be on that June day. I had a ridiculously easy pregnancy, a surprisingly traumatic delivery and a baby with what most would describe as colic. Jeremy is more beautiful and brilliant than I could have imagined. He is developmentally early with everything, and so very much like his Daddy. 

Every day I am challenged, and every day I am rewarded.

When I look back at all of the reading, researching and pondering I did one year ago, I really don't think I got the point of it all. It really doesn't matter what kind of swaddle-blankets I have. Babies gestate just fine without mama knowing what kind of stone fruit they resemble this week. The books and websites all miss the mark I think... all there is to know is that when the time is right a baby is born, and at that moment so is the mama. They both have to learn how to live in this new, scary world, and they do it together in their own little ways.

I am learning to be a mama just like Jeremy is learning to be a person. I suspect that this is the process we will follow as days turn into years. 

At first I doubted that I was a natural mother but really I just had to be patient with myself and trust my heart and my baby. That's all there is to it.

One year later we are happy and so in love. Outside our little family life goes on like it always has, and this little baby fits so nicely in our loving nook...

love in our family bed.

Looking forward to the years to come (but not too forward as to miss the magic of now!).

Love Always,

Joan Blondina

this speaks to me...

...does it speak to you too?

Fear and Creativity. For me they go hand in hand. It looks like I'm not the only one (click here and here to see what I mean). I always feel down on myself for never getting the motivation to do more with my ideas. I have lists of ideas, and a folder of things that I think "I could definitly make/do", but the ideas remain lifeless.

From a blog called Noodlehead, these could just as easily be my words:

• fear that I won't be able to keep up, with my family, my job, my blog, with the 8 gazillion other awesome bloggers out there.
• fear that I'm not using my time wisely, like I should be doing 'this' instead, etc.
• fear of creating something someone else has already done and I'll be accused of copying
• fear of failing
• fear that people won't like what I made
• fear that I'll use my favorite fabric and not like how a project turns out, this one's kind of sad, but true

Fear and Creativity. Something to think about...

Love Always,

Joan Blondina

hangin' on...

I know that life is starting to feel normal again when I start taking photos again; and not just photos of the babe. 

I saw this snail and was wondered how it had gotten itself in this situation - hanging by a seed of grass. Amazing. 

I guess I feel a little like my slimy friend: How did I get here in this uncertain place?

In my limited life experience I have never felt to humbled as I do now as a mother to a young baby. 

Deep inside I know that I have eveything that it takes to be a good mama in me; a gift passed on from my own mum.

But I am still just so... amazed.

Love Always,

Joan Blondina

so smitten...

...how could you not be? 

I am so completely addicted to this little guy! And why has no one thought to bottle up that amazing baby-head smell and sell it to millions of women around the world? It's amazing.

The two of us are slowly crawling out of a three month newborn-fog and into the real world. We are working on a routine. He has discovered his hands and feet. I am taking time to do some of the things I used to do (like writing, online and on paper). Maybe I will knit a second booty for the pair I started Jeremy two months ago; and hot or not he WILL wear them.

So, please world, be patient with us. If I have not blogged, or called, or e-mailed, or if I missed a major social event in the last little while, know that I rarely even shower these days and even less often do I drink my coffee while it's still hot... but look at this boy and tell me it's not worth it!

Love Always,

Joan Blondina (and King Jeremy)

for every hard day...

there is a beautifully blissful one. Yes, some days are extremely hard with a newborn child. When my little guy wants to nurse for 3 hours straight, cries in pain from a fully belly, and refuses to sleep unless being constantly rocked, normalcy seems impossible. But for every momma tear I shed there is an equally beautiful moment just waiting for me, as long as I trust that it will come. I am so incredibly lucky to have help and support and love from my family and friends. And truly, I am so blessed to have been given this little boy; my new little adventurer and partner in crime. We have a lot of living to look forward to! Here are some photos of some of our adventures so far...

"Ma, I HATE this thing!"

"my first stroller ride"

"love being in my carriers"

"so embarrassing..."

"i wanna go on an adventure!"

"ready for my track meet ma!"

"what is up with this strange world?"



"so eager to be a big boy and sit up on my own!"




"ma, this milk is a-ok!

 Love Always,
Joan Blondina

setteling in....

The reality of life as a mama is setting in fiercely. I am sitting here typing with one hand, holding king Jeremy with the other, taking care not to stop rocking rocking rocking or humming humming humming the hypnotic whale sound I have adopted to help this babe fall asleep after a feast.

Motherhood smells like breast milk and baby pee. It sounds like lullabies and newborn crys. It looks like messy ponytails and dimpled fingers. Motherhood forces me to find the beauty in this new child; otherwise thoughts like "will I ever go to a yoga class again?" and "when will I not have breast milk stains on my shirt?" and "will I ever eat a leisurely meal again?" start to creep in...

Currently amongst the fog of labour, birth and having new baby I am striving to make sense of it all. 

Bear with me as I unpack this beautiful miracle...

Love Always,
Joan Blondina

gone fishing...

I am taking an unplanned break from my blog. Right now I have no interest in being connected, including catching up with e-mails, facebook, text messages... I am so much enjoying my resting time before baby comes and logging on is not high on my list of priorities. Please rest assured that everything is going wonderfully and I am peacefully gestating until this little one decides to come earthside...

Until next time, Love Always

Joan Blondina

a beautiful birthing story...

With only weeks away from childbirth I love to hear a good birthing story, and this one is so unique and beautiful I had to share it. It comes from a woman on a facebook group that I read. The story is told by her 15 year old daughter who, among the other children in the household, witnessed her monther's unnasisted childbirth (unasisted childbirth means that there is no OB or Midwife present at the birth). I just really think that there are others out there that will enjoy this as much as I did.


Titled: My Daughters Version of My Wonderful Unassisted Birth

"The beautiful birth of my little brother: Elliott Risdon

I'm writing this story for my mom who did a wonderful job delivering all of us. We kind of have a connection when it comes to birth and such even though I'm only 15 and have never experienced birth itself. But I witnessed my one and a half year old brother being born as well as the one I'm about to tell you about, my mom reads me TONS of birth stories and I've watched several birth videos.



I knew my mom was pregnant before she told us. I guess I just had this feeling cause I'm so close to her but that day when she sat us down, she looked around at my siblings and I and said, "I have to tell you guys something". My response to her statement? "You're pregnant, aren't you?'' lol. We were all so excited and my mom and I read every story we could get our hands on, watched videos, did research and she called up her old midwife. I was so excited and we spent endless nights outside, just imagining how wonderful the birth would be.

 My mom's water "broke" about a week before she actually had the baby. My dad had come into my room and told me what was going on and to help with the kids as best as I could because we would probably be having a baby really soon. I was so excited and I helped as much as I could, all the while pretending for my other siblings that I had no idea what was going on. She had contractions but she said it was nothing serious. She would just groan for a little and go back to her conversation.


Then, after a while, she got used to them I guess. She kept saying she could feel pressure and that she was opening up but she didn't really think she was in labor. She would just pause and say "I just had one" and that was it for a while. I never thought anything of it.

 The morning of December 17, 2010 at 1 in the morning my dad arrived in my room to wake me up. "Your mom's having contractions and feeling the urge to push. Get up!" I would like to say I jumped out of bed, full of energy but I just rubbed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep. I had had so many dreams of her birth during the pregnancy that I just assumed I was dreaming, but luckily my dad persisted and I got up.


My mom was in the hot tub and she looked just fine. She was talking and laughing like nothing was happening. I knew this happened a lot for homebirths but at one o'clock in the morning, being tired and all, I just figured she was having braxton hicks. But soon my mom started moaning and I did my best to offer help with my one and half year old brother. I then took him out of the room and put him to sleep. My dad told me later that I could go back to sleep.

 I didn't get much sleep then either because I woke up to my mom screaming (vocalizing as my mom calls it, lol) in the bathroom across from my room. I thought about getting up just as my dad came in to get me again. He led me to the hot tub and I watched as my mom went through contractions and kept talking to us. The spaces were fewer between though but I still felt like it was Braxton-Hicks.


But suddenly she seemed to change, and this might sound weird but it was like her animal instinct kicked in. She wasn't talking or really even looking at anyone. She was focusing all her energy on the baby and getting it out. I remember staring at her and being amazed at how well she was doing. She begin throwing up into the cups and trash can my dad and I were constantly handing her and she kept saying things like "I can't do this!" "Does anyone want to trade places with me?" "I'm going to push my legs off!" and I knew that she'd hit transition. I eagerly pulled my 11 year old brother and my 5 year old sister to the side and whispered to them that mom would be having the baby soon. They had smiled excitedly at me and my little sister kicked into doula mood.

 "Mommy, do you want a drink?" she would ask every five seconds, upset that my mom was too in the mode to answer. "Mommy, it's okay... you're just having a baby!" She would say. My little brother kept cold rags on her forehead and (I think) handled the birth surprisingly well... better than I expected, that is.



My mom then looked at my dad (they were both in the hot tub right now, I remember because right before my dad got in, I was thinking of getting in myself) and asked if gravity was helping, I think. My dad said something about it being neutral and my mom flew out of the hot tub onto the rug next to it. She got on her hands and knees and we all crowded around her. She asked for her birthing ball and she rocked herself through contractions on it. Then she pushed the ball away and remained without anything else. She was pushing and then suddenly she begin yelling/ moaning "MY PERINEUM!!! Get some olive oil and really hot water!!! And a rag!!!" My dad scrambled up like a meteor was about to hit him and he ran to the other room. I don't know how he did it, but it seemed like seconds before he was coming back with the steaming water. He held the scalding washcloth to her perineum and my mom told me to touch the baby's head because at this point she was crowning. I hesitated for a minute, I didn't want to get in the way but my poor mother saw that I wasn't moving and told me to touch it now or I wouldn't get to. I quickly hobbled on my knees over there and touched the squishy little head. It was one of the coolest, if not THE coolest things I have ever done.


I pulled my little brother over and my little sister came eagerly. We all sat and watched. Then, my mom grunted a little and the head came out. "Dad, take the time!" "Why? It's not born yet!" "They take the time when the head comes out!" I said. "Oh... " He checked his watch "Six till five! Remember that!" And trust me, I did.


My mom began touching his head and saying "My little baby. It's okay baby. I'm gonna see you soon" And I couldn't help but feel overwhelmingly lucky to be there. Birth really is a beautiful thing. My mom felt cord then and told my dad she'd need some help with the next push and as she pushed I watched as the baby came flying out. I heard my dad yell "Ha! I told you it was a boy!" And we all gathered around my mom to see the cute little baby boy. He was so beautiful and perfect. I don't know if I cried or not but I'm getting tears in my eyes just typing the story up.


I brought over the birth stool for my mom and she sat on it as my dad and I put wet pads underneath it so she could deliver the placenta. That was cool too. When it finally slid out, It was just a big red glob. I felt the desire to touch it or something but I figured they would've made fun of me. I placed a wet pad between her legs and she walked over to the office chair and sat down there. My dad put the placenta in a bowl and my mom had to carry that too since we were leaving the umbilical cord on until it turned white.


I don't know how long I stared at that baby boy but he was just so beautiful that it didn't seem natural. My mom then made me go to bed even though I wanted to stay up, knowing I wouldn't sleep anyway. I only went to bed because I had school in a couple hours.


The birth of my little brother was so amazing and I wouldn't have had any other way. It was the perfect, unassisted birth I'd always hoped my mom would have. She obviously hadn't called the midwife until after it was over because she didn't accept that she was in labor till she felt the head. I'm very close to my little brother now and everytime I watch my mom give birth, I realize how beautiful it is, how amazing she is, and how silly people are that do in the hospital.



No, it wasn't scarring. I'm not scared of birth. And I'm definitely not mad at my parents for including me. Birth is a beautiful natural thing and I'm so glad I participated in it. I can't wait to tell him the story from MY perspective when he gets older. :)"


I hope you enjoyed the story! I want this girl to attend my birth!

I don't know if I have to credit her, as facebook is public content. Either way the link is HERE. 

Love Always
Joan Blondina

hit a bit of a low point…

Let me start off by saying that I still love being pregnant. Today however is a bit of a low day. I am tired. I’ve been up since 4:30am for NO REASON. I am sore. I feel like a whale. I'm just getting over a winter cold. I want my body back. I am sick of struggling to get my socks and winter boots on. I am tired of being breathless and weezie. I long for jeans with a button and a fly…. I can feel my body changing and preparing to birth this baby and it’s a lot of work.

I have sewing projects to finish, laundry to do, a baby shower blog entry to finish (or alternatively a computer to throw out the window), this on my mind, e-mails to send, thank you letters to make and a long list of things to pick up before the baby comes. All while big and pregnant.

I still have one week of work left. As much as I love my job I can’t wait until I am done. At 37w it’s hard to be efficient at pregnancy and work. My mind is frantically noting all of the things I would like to have organized YESTERDAY. It’s all just a lot to take on. I know, I’m not the first woman to be in this place. I guess this is part of the beautiful, awkward, grunting process…

I must admit, the 3rd trimester, even with this basketball belly and raging heartburn, is still much better than that first, anxious trimester. The first trimester is full of isolation and secrets (don’t tell ANYONE until you safely reach 12w!?) and confusion (should we be buying diapers NOW?) and fear (what is going ON with my body?) and nausea (WHY does EVERYTHING smell like burnt onions?) all the while not looking pregnant; just bloated and sweaty. Compared to those first few months this is nothing.

I hope you don’t mind my rant. I guess it’s just honest. Things will look up tomorrow I’m sure (or maybe the next day). Realistically no one will mind if thank you cards are late. Baby won’t mind if when he gets here I don’t have a fancy nursing bra. Things will get done. Baby will come. All will be right with the world…

Love Always,
Joan Blondina

i can be found in lalaland...

...dreaming about dreams that someday will come true.

I have had the same dream for a while now. Ideas have been brewing in my head on and off. I have moments of obsessing about it's fruition, and longer moments of 'oh, I give up!'. I forgive myself because sometimes dreams happen on a time-line other than the one you would expect.

I dream about having a business on the side that revolves around creativity and inspiration; getting inspiration from the world around me; inspiring others to reach their creative potential.

This business has had several hypothetical business names and products. I have dreamed up various etsy shops and product tags and clientele.

Right now I am asking the universe to show me the next step in making this dream of mine real. I may have made some headway, thanks to a very inspirational person who has come into my life! But I put no pressure on anything. I want this to happen organically.

I don't know exactly what this dream will look like, but I suspect I'll know when the dream has come true.

Love Always,

Joan Blondina

i've got a folksy baby...

The other night I was experimenting with how the little sea monkey responded to different songs on my playlist. I would play a song for a few minutes, observe, and move on to the next song. It turns out that this babe has the same taste in music as his mama. Some songs would make him 'dance' much more than others. He loved anything Rufus Wainright, The Acorn and Nick Drake. But his favorite song of them all? Ressurection Fern by Iron and Wine! Good pick little guy!

(When I told this to Warren he reminded me that my experient was not fair since I don't have much Queen on my i-pod!)

I daydream about my child growing up knowing the words to all of mama's hip music, and dosn't hear the likes of Justin Beiber or Eminem until he's at least old enough to drive.

Please watch this ADORABLE video! My heart is melting! Good job litle girl!

Love Always,

Joan Blondina

bring on the good vibes...

 

The Birth Project

As I am approaching closer and closer to the day I will give birth I am working very hard at understanding my options, hearing positive stories about birth and working on creating good energy and confidence for this summit I am about to climb. However, I can't help but notice the lack of support for a positive, natural birth experience. It's become very clear that most people have a negative view of birth.

I got to thinking about this: when a teenager prepares for a driving test, practicing their signalling, parking and merging, do we tell them horrible stories about car accidents we've been in, or heard about, or saw on the news? Do we feed them statistics about how many people a year die a bloody death in automobile accidents? Do we show them photos of crashed up cars who were hit by drunk drivers? NO! Of course we don't! Because that poor young person would probably get in the car on the day of their exam and have a meltdown!

So why, then, do people feel the need to share with me the horrors of childbirth? Why do people feel the need to tell me all of the reasons I might need a c-section or an induction or an epidural? I don't think it's to educate me. I think it's to share the fear that they themselves have about childbirth. FYI: not helpful people! Please, the next time you are tempted to tell your pregnant friend about a cousin who suddenly birthed her child at 28 weeks or a neighbour who "failed to progress" and was rushed to surgery think about what kind of negative energy you are passing on to her. We've all seen "A Baby Story" and "Knocked Up". We don't need any more of that! Please, a pregnant women should be supported and cheered on!

So, I've got 7 more weeks! Start sending me some positive vibes!

Finally, if anyone is interested, "Birth Without Fear " has been an amazing tool for preparation for birth. I read it all night when I'm awake and everyone else in the house is asleep.
Particularly, read this post!

Love Always,

Joan Blondina

pondering the bump...

7 months pregnant

I hear so many women say "I loved being pregnant" or "I hated being pregnant". For a while now I have been wondering which category I fall into. Do I like being pregnant? Well, if there's one thing I have at my disposal it's several awake hours a night to think about these things. Last night, between the hours at 3am and 7am I thought about where I stand.

If when I thought about pregnancy I considered each sensation, change and challenge as apart from pregnancy I would be miserable. There's the backache, the insomnia, the HEARTBURN (oh god the heartburn), the shortness of breath, the weight gain, the swelling of the hands and feet, the stretching feeling in my groin, the inability to wear regular jeans, the punches to the bladder, the LEG CRAMPS (oh god the leg cramps), the itchy boobs, the stretch marks... any single one of these conditions would be enough to make a non-pregnant person fall in a crying heap to the floor.

But surprisingly, it's really not that bad. It's actually quite amazing and beautiful.

I liken it to travel. In order to go anywhere cool and exotic you need to fly in an airplane. Does anyone really LIKE flying? If your flights runs perfectly smoothly you still have to go through airport security, wait around for hours in a terminal looking at nothing, sit on a plain in a compact little seat possibly beside a stranger with a cold for god-knows-how-long, eat airplane food, use the tiny airplane washroom and adjust to the ever fluctuating too-cold and too-hot temperatures. When you finally arrive to wherever you were headed you have to stand FOREVER in a sea of impatient smelly people to wait for your luggage to show itself along the conveyor belt and most likely you have to go through customs. God help you if after all that you need to catch a taxi to get to where you are going. But, you know what: I love flying! It's exciting. It's adventurous. And typically it leads you to somewhere that you've never been before and new experiences that will forever change who you are. All of the challenges and annoyances are part of the fun. They make you a better, more adaptable and interesting person in my opinion.

This is how I see my pregnancy. I have a long list of discomforts but if you ask me how I'm feeling I say "I feel great!", because I do. Each pregnancy related ailment is an adventure in it's own. Each discomfort I feel tells me that there is a beeb growing away, and my body has sacrificed its comfort for the comfort that he needs and deserves. I listen closely to each sensation. Pain tells me to rest. Discomfort tells me to move. Fatigue usually tells me to eat something nutritious. Insomnia is preparing me for the sleep deprivation I will have once this baby is out and needs me every hour of the day until he moves out of the house.Pregnancy is messy, but it's oh-so-wonderful too.

So, I guess what I'm saying is I love pregnancy not despite all of the discomforts, but because of them. And you know what else? There are so many great things about being pregnant: I get to wear all of my flowey empire waist tops that I never liked wearing before because they "made me look pregnant"! I get to feel my baby move around inside of me all day long! I have strangers smile at me just for being round and full of life! I get to buy cute little onesies, and receive adorable gifts from friends and family. I get to make something unexplainably beautiful for my husband, and give my parents a grandchild.

So, here's to celebrating this amazing miracle that I am very blessed to have inside of me.

Love Always,
Joan Blondina

may the new year bring...

...love. peace. contentment. adventure. 

In years past the sleepy time between boxing day and new years eve has been a low time for me. I can often be found weepy on the couch for some unexplainable reason. I presume it has a lot to do with the knowledge that within the next few days all of the beauty of Christmas will be packed away for next year, and we will be left with a cold, lifeless winter until spring comes who-knows-when. Depressing to think about, I know. But this year I realized that New Years Day had come and gone and not once did I have that sick feeling in my stomach about the months to come. Probably, and I am just guessing here, because we have an early spring gift on the way. The stork will be delivering our little spring chick no later than early March! How can I feel depressed about that? It's amazing how much this little one has changed me and he doesn't even know it. He has no idea what we have in store for his little life. Until his time to see the world and all it's beauty, I take comfort in knowing that while he lives in my belly he is the most cozy and safe he will ever be.

 "Rest up little guy while you can. It's a beautiful world and I want to show you everything!"

Happy New Year!

New Years Eve 2010

Love Always

Joan Blondina