A Difficult Road To A New Baby

Gosh, it’s been a long time since I wrote anything on here. Zol asked me about it today, “When’s the last time you wrote on your blog?” It’s been forever. There are a few reasons for that. I am now the proud mother of two beautiful girls. Graye is 3 in September and Jonah is just over 2 months old now. It’s been a long difficult year and it all started last February…

We discovered I was pregnant shortly after we started trying for our second. I’m not sure I was ready for number two at that point, but I thought maybe after 9 months of gestation I would have a different take on it. At week 11 I went in for an ultrasound to see how old the baby was at that point. The woman giving me the ultrasound would not make eye contact with me and answered all of my questions with “You’ll have to ask the doctor about that.” After the ultrasound was finished she said the doctor would speak to me in a few minutes and somebody would come get me. My stomach turned upside down as she closed the door. I ran my hand over my stomach and my heart started to beat faster and faster. After sitting by myself for 10 minutes the door opened and a woman took me to a back room with lots of people sitting at massive computer screens. She showed me to a chair and I sat down with an older Chinese woman.

In a heavy accent she said, “Sorry. Baby no good.” “Sorry what? Baby no good what?” “Baby no good.” Tears flooded into my eyes as I looked at the black blob on the computer screen. Before I could ask any questions she said, “You park out back? You wan tissue?” I took the tissue and stumbled to the back door pressing it open into the early evening light. My hands shook as I fumbled the key into my van door and climbed into my seat, slamming the door. A flood of tears fell over me and I struggled to find my phone. I paged Zol and waited for his call back. I answered, “The baby is dead… the baby is dead.” “What do you mean the baby is dead???” “I don’t know. I don’t know why but the baby is dead.” I sat there for 10 minutes till the tears had cleared enough for me to drive.

I had had no experience with miscarriages and it is an un-talked about experience in most circles. But it happens – it happens a LOT. For the next 2 months I physically dealt with it. There are pills you take to make the baby come out and they didn’t work for me. Weeks of bleeding and feeling horrible led to me running a very high fever. I was then given a D and C (they go in and take it out) and 3 weeks after I was finally back to normal – physically. Mentally I was a wreck. If you’ve ever had a baby growing inside you and felt the happiness and excitement it brings – all to be dashed on the rocks by some horrible person that says “Sorry, baby no good”… it is an extremely hard thing to deal with.

It was difficult to wrap my head around trying again, but we did and luckily I get pregnant easily. I waited until 15 weeks to tell friends and 15 weeks went safely up to 40. Baby Jonah gave me insane heartburn and a pulled groin (sexy!) for 9 months.

The birth of Jonah is a whole other story and that will be in part 2… stay tuned!

A New Place To Lay Our Heads - AND Birth A New Baby!

It was 2pm – dead center of Graye’s much needed afternoon nap when the house started to shake. The pounding sound that came along with it was deafening and I tried to grab a glimpse of what was happening in our carport below from my kitchen window. Turns out I didn’t need to see what was going on as just by listening I had a pretty good idea it was something stupid. “Dude! This is going to be FUCKING AWESOME!” The hammer wailed again and again and again and within the minute I was climbing the stairs to get my now awoken daughter. Zol came home later that afternoon saying, “So guess what the idiot downstairs has done?” “What?” “Enclosed the entire carport in with a big silver tarp.” Turns out he had tarped it to the point of me not being able to figure out how to get into the garage to give them their mail. After nearly falling on my face 2 times trying to get through the hidden opening I finally said something. Josh agreed it would be a good idea to move the mailbox outside of the tented carport. Josh. Who is Josh you ask? Josh is Sara’s boyfriend. Sara is the girl we originally had rented the suite downstairs. After a year she met him and he moved in, and then life went from good to bad again. Shall I describe Josh for you?

Throughout this entire description please attach the visual of a burning Du Maurier cigarette. He’s around 23 years old. Originally from Winnipeg, but out here to try and (escape his massive credit card bills in Manitoba) make some cash and enjoy the mild weather. Big baggy jeans with unattractive wear and tear billowing over faded puffy yellow skate shoes. In the cooler months he wears a hoody with a strangely unfashionable blue knit sweater jacket over top. It has caribou heads knitted into all parts of it. It’s hideous. He’s not overweight, but he’s not fit either. There is always 5 days growth of facial hair on his face – and not the sexy kind. His voice is booming and friendly and I would go as far to say authentic. Every conversation he starts makes you cringe as his opening lines sound something like these… “Soooooo I was thinking…” “OK – SO – what do you think about this?” “Hey Day? Would you have a problem with me…” “OK get THIS! You know that wall in our bedroom?” He’s the kind of guy that takes on a massive job and then takes forever to finish it. I’m married to one already and don’t need to live above one as well.

Along with the burning cigarette there is the constant haze of marijuana is his eyes. He is either super baked or really really freaking baked. I have no problem with smoking weed at all – what I have a problem with is the people he gets it from. After several months of him living here they started to trickle in. Our semi happy house went from OK to sketchy once again. I’ll not get into it, but over the past year the police were on our doorstep looking for him quite a few times. My patience was running thin again and I was ready to throw in the towel with renting this house. The 45 minute long showers, tarped in carport, the smell of weed in our house for hours (smells like a skunk is living downstairs) his dog that shits all over our backyard, the new puppy that barks incessantly for hours and hours and hours when left alone, the leaking pipes, the furnace that is now making exploding sounds… All these things took my last straw - and broke it.

My I mention that I am 6 and half months pregnant? My mind is racing ahead to a new baby in my arms come spring. As the situation downstairs appears to be escalating at an alarming pace my ‘nesting’ instincts have risen to a whole new level. The bitchy ‘I’m-going-to-get-what-I-need-to-make-my-home-safe-for-this-new-child’ kind of level. You just don't mess with that kind of estrogen - do you?

The phone rang 2 weeks ago. It was the landlord of Zol’s garage that he rents. He was in need of some new checks for 2011. My mind started racing… Speaking with Zol later I suggested he ask the guy if he had anything in the way of a HOUSE for us to rent. Within the next few days life spiraled quickly into something we had not conceived. He DID have a house. An ENTIRE house with NO tenants. It was in an area that I loved, walking distance to everything including one of my best friends 2 blocks away. Zol had not asked for the monthly rental price but the landlord told us to do a drive by if we wanted. That night we walked around the empty property. The rain was lightly falling. I held Graye in my arms and as we rounded the side of the house I put her down to inspect what seemed to be a small swimming pool and behind that a massive vegetable garden. Cucumbers , zucchini, tomatoes and fresh lettuce for dinner were already racing through my mind…

Barely able to sleep that night I hounded Zol the next day to find out the price. $400 over our budget. My heart sank but I knew the asking price was ridiculously low for what we’d be getting. I insisted on seeing the inside. I also made a call to mine and his parents who were both willing to help till after the new baby was born and we could figure out a new budget. The next day we walked the inside of the empty home. It was perfect. PERFECT. Zol looked at me and said “Sooooo….?” “Where do we sign?” I said back. He chuckled but I could hear apprehension in his laugh. A check was drawn up for the damage deposit and the place was ours.

Four days later and my house is a disaster. Boxes, full garbage bags, dirty floors. We have a 15 day cross over from this house to the new one but all I hear in my head is “Get me OUTTA here!” The stress of moving will be so worth it in the end. Our own place. Finally. I can birth baby girl number two in our new living room and scream my heart away with no thought of the ‘people downstairs’.

I’ll give you an update when all is said and done. Goodbye crazy house in South Vancouver and hello Hastings Sunrise!

Do they make pills for people that obsess about things that are safe to take while pregnant? I think I might need them…

Family Vacation - We Did It? - HANA

A thin sweat broke out under my nose and chin. I clenched the map in my hands, desperately trying to figure out where we were on the road. Graye was now wailing like a banshee in the back seat, and no amount of telling her we were 'almost there' would shut her up. The car now chugged coming out of every corner and my eyes desperately scanned the ever eluding landscape for the sign of a small town - or maybe a GAS STATION THAT HAD SOME FOOD.

At this point I'd like to explain hypoglycemia to all of you that have no idea what it is. First off, i have it - a pretty bad case of it actually. If I haven't eaten my blood sugar drops and all that I can think of is food and how I'm going to get it. All else - people, family, friends are useless to me if they don't have food for me to eat. I become this ugly, mean person that I hate. But I seriously, SERIOUSLY can't help it. Zol had no idea what he was getting into when he married me until it was too late. It takes a big person to marry a hypoglycemic.

Finally the we pulled over a hill into what looked like the outskirts of a town. There was the odd street sign for roads that bloomed into small neighbourhoods to our left and right. The road map became confusing at this point, as were the instructions I 'd been given by the man on the roadside to find the only gas station in town. It was on the 'Highway' of which there were two in Hana. The 330 and 360 split in the middle of town.

So you can imagine what happens next. We took the wrong turn. The conversation went something like this - with a constant high pitched scream coming from the back seat...

"SO DO I TURN? day DAY! do I TURN???" "uuuuhhh YES yes turn" We turn. "FUCK." "Fuck what? fuck we shouldn't have turned?" "Just WAIT for god's sake! Let me find a road sign... shit. OK pull over and turn around... ZOL! PULL OVER AND TURN-" "I AM DAM IT! Just give me freakin' MINUTE!" "What are you doing? I said TURN AROUND!!" The car lurched forward out of our messy 3 point turn. "So NOW what? Where am I going?" "Back up to the highway." "We're ON the highway!!" "The other FUCKING highway dammit! The one we were on before we turned down this OTHER FUCKING HIGHWAY!"

5 minutes later we pulled into the gas station. And you'd think that I would have been relieved, happy, excited, and maybe I would have - had I not been absolutely RAVENOUS with an equally hungry one year old child screaming to high hell in our backseat. I poked around in the gas station and found nothing to eat aside from gum and breath mints. "OK I need to EAT something or I AM GOING TO DIE." After filling up the car, we angrily ambled our way back to the heart of the town and into the beautiful Hana Bay. Trying to keep my composure I ordered us some sandwiches and drinks and we found a shady picnic bench to eat at after what felt like a 3 hour wait for our food.


We rinsed our sticky fingers at a public tap and then looked at each other with a blank stare. It was 4pm and we knew we had to get back on the road. "So. Should we do it?" "I guess we have no choice..." Regardless of the fact that we'd let her run around for half an hour, Graye gave us a run for our money as soon as we picked her up and started heading back to the car. Legs all OVER the place - twisting and screaming and screaming and screaming. As I attempted to place her in her car seat her entire body went rigor mortis on me. Using my elbow I crammed her into the seat and strapped her in. The sounds from her mouth were deafening as we politely smiled at the Japanese tour group that was staring at us 10 feet away.

Zol turned the key in the ignition. COUGH CHUG SPUTTER. aahhhweeWEweWEEE... cough. aahhhweeWEweWEEE.... aahhhweeWEweWEEE... aahhhweeWEweWEEE....

to be continued...

Family Vacation - We Did It - HANA

Nearly 30 years had passed since I had felt this wonderful breeze and smelt the air that most suntan lotions try to imitate in their scent. The Kahului airport had an open air concept, so upon exiting your aircraft you are greeted by the tropical elements. Our car rental people picked us up and within the hour we were turning the key in our condo door. The walk down the corridor to our oceanfront unit brought a flood of foggy childhood memories - all wonderful thoughts. I don't think Zol really knew what we were coming to and as subtle as it was, I could see on his face that he was impressed with my/our choice of heading to Maui. We stripped Graye down to her skivvies and each cracked a Pacifico, kicking back on the lounge chairs out front. The ocean was 20 feet away and we basked in the sound of crashing waves. The bubbly foam came just a few feet away as the waves swelled in and out.

A few days passed. Pure relaxation. Beer at 10am (time change people!!!) walk on the beach, simple lunch, maybe a trip to the store, BBQ dinner, cocktails... We finally got out the map of the island. No sorry let me rephrase that - we drove ALL OVER THE PLACE trying to find an actual MAP of the island that had road names on it, not just 'points of interest'. We could time Graye's nap for her to fall asleep in the car while we drove somewhere and hopefully she would be OK on the drive home after running around for a while at our destination. Sooooo... where-should-we-go...? Hana?

Hana looked amazing on all of the tourist pamphlets we'd picked up in our endless search for a real map. Jungles, black lava rock, thatched huts - hellz! one of the parks was called 'The Garden of Eden'. We HAD to go! The road on the map looked a little crazy though. Maybe a one hour drive? So we jumped in the car with map in hand and headed on our way. Graye fell asleep within 20 minutes of being on the road.

Some couples suck at giving directions to each other. Some are horrible backseat drivers. Some couples are both. That would be Zol and I in a CITY setting. Put us in a rural area and we are perfectly civil and nice. We actually get to said destination with smiles on our faces. Sorry, we actually get to said destination with smiles on our faces unless one particular thing isn't taken care of beforehand. I'll let you know what that 'thing' is in a minute.

20 minutes into our ride the small towns and villages petered away as we headed up the breathtaking North coast of Maui. The road began to curve and twist and twist and turn like no other road I had ever been on. The video doesn't do it justice...







We were following a small tourist bus that drove ridiculously slow and even slower when it came the crest of every hill or up alongside a waterfall. I nonchalantly turned my eyes to the left and looked at the gas gauge. It was below 1/4 of a tank full. "Ummm... how are we for gas sweety??" "Fine. We'll get some in Hana." Being in charge of the map I waited 'til the next point of interest came along and checked how far away we were from Hana. Not even a quarter of the way there. "Zol, we're not going to get there for a LONG time. Maybe there's a gas station coming up. If there is we HAVE to get gas!" "Yup umhmm." I felt a panic fall all over me. I have a serious mental problem when it comes to the possibility of running out of gas. Maybe it's due to the fact that I drove a van that had a broken gas gauge for 2 years. I have run out of gas no less then 15 times and every one of them has been unforgettable. Before we had left the question was asked... "Do we need gas?" "Nope we're good".

Another hour of driving the curvy roads passed. I took videos and pictures and tried to have a nice time while Graye still slept in her car seat behind me but my mind was overrun with horrible running out of gas scenarios. We were now pulled to a stop in a long long lineup of cars... all winding down into a deep ravine with a beautiful waterfall at the base of it. And dump trucks. And tractors. And pylons. And people standing outside of their cars because they had been their for so long. ROAD WORK. Fuck me. Zol turned off the car and we sat quietly. After 2 minutes Graye awoke, sweaty and with a wtf? cry. As soon as I cracked the door open I regretted it. A wave of soggy heat flooded the car and we might as well have been in an Native American sweat tent. - 2 hours in and dying to get out. We all got out of the stuffy car and Zol held Graye up to look down the ravine at all of the road work. First chance I got I found somebody to ask about getting gas. Turns out he needed gas as well but the only station was in Hana which was still an hour away. We wilted in the sun as turning the car on for AC meant burning our precious gasoline. 20 minutes later the line of cars began to move. My stomach was not only in a knot from the thoughts of our gas running out, but was now also STARVING. Temped to eat Graye's snack food I refrained and instead channeled my hungry anger into how I felt about possibly being stranded on the side of the road. "You know? You know what? NEXT TIME? Cause there WILL be a next time. I don't CARE if you THINK whatever the hell is in the tank is going to get us to a place that we've never even BEEN TO before - WE ARE GETTING GAS FIRST BECAUSE I CAN'T HANDLE THIS!!"

The scenery changed and houses started to show up on the sides of the road... Hana was close, sort of. The car made a chugging sound and lurched a little as we pulled out of a corner. I wasn't sure if this was due to the fact that it was a well used 2003 Nissan Sentra or the fact that we were running out gas. The gauge had sunk well below the red line and that meant EMPTY.

My stomach tight and my fingers clenched as the car chugged forward. Where the HELL was HANA!??

to be continued...

Family Vacation - Is It Worth It?

Being a stay at home mother (that only works at the most one three hour shift a week these days) I'm pretty sure that people think everyday is a vacation for me. I can assure you that it is NOT. I wouldn't say it's particularly hard, but it can be draining on many different levels. I love it when childless friends and family shake their heads yes with concern and say, "Oh yes, yes... I KNOW I know. It is a BIG job - I believe it. No really, I DO." and you know that they don't. Ya, maybe I get to sit down here and there a few times a day not really doing much, but it's on the most ridiculously small bathroom floor coaxing another human to take a shit. Makes for some great conversation while I spill coffee all over my socks for the 2nd time that week while trying to get up.

(Here comes the classic follow up paragraph where I tell you how much I love my life and adore my child.)
Now don't get me wrong. I love my life. Graye is amazing and everyday she surprises me with cuteness that no story, video or picture could ever convey. I am very lucky to have the opportunity to stay by my child's side watching her grow up. That being said, I know my child very well. I have a pretty good idea of how she will react to any given situation. Not being able to have a juice box she just happened to see in the cupboard? - five minutes of the word "juuuuuuice?" accompanied by my skirt being pulled off my body several times. Missing her nap while at the grandparents - an evening of hyper-assed screaming and jumping on the couch. Seeing any kind of real animal? - the sweetest squeals of true delight, unless it's OUR cat, then she screams in horror. A creepy Chinese tourist tickling her foot - pure fear. Sitting on mine or Zol's lap for over 6 hours on an airplane - BOREDOM. If you have any idea what a bored two year old is like, you would then understand my fear of flying anywhere with her.

So. Do we go to Maui in August? I'm not really asking you - as I already know what everyone will say. "OH YES!!!! GO! You haaaaave to! She'll be fiiiiiinnne. You guys need a vacation." Ya I KNOW we do, but the ride there and the ride home frighten me to no end. And not so much the flight but traveling in general with not only my daughter... but my husband. Shall I explain why? Oh why NOT??

Late August 2009. It is a week before we leave for a 12 day trip to stay in the condo my family used as I was a child on the Hawaiian island of Maui. I hadn't been there since I was 5 or 6, but have wonderful memories of our times at the Hona Kai. I was so excited when Zol agreed to go there with the big possibility of pissing his parents off as they had a place we could use in Waikiki (hate it). So we have a WEEK before we leave and here is where my husband and I are very different. I have already planned out what I will be packing for both Graye and myself two weeks beforehand. I will pack the day before we leave, ticking things off my list as they go into the suitcase. Packing any sooner causes trouble for me as I can't remember what it is I packed and end up taking something out and not putting it back in. Zol on the other hand packs several days before and is basically flipping out the entire week about things he has forgotten, will forget and what will I do if I forget this because then my whole vacation will be ruined and I'm not going to let that happen because this is costing us a fortune and DAY!?? DAY? Where the hell are all my shorts!? This is ridiculous! I can't find ONE thing I want to take on this trip. SERIOUSLY. NOT ONE SINGLE THING.

In my head I'm rolling around on the floor laughing at a scene I have witnessed every time we try to go anywhere out of town. I am no angel when it comes to these 'packing conversations' that we have. I angrily and loudly locate all missing items and then storm out of the room uttering various combination's of swear words. His shorts are always in the dresser drawer that has only SHORTS IN IT and all his t-shirts are in the laundry basket at the foot of the bed. And no you don't need 12 pairs of socks because we are going to be staying on a BEACH ZOL. a BEACH. and you WILL - trust me - you WILL not need them because you will be wearing FLIP-FLOPS BECAUSE WE WILL BE ON A BEACH.

With childlike excitement we both stay up too late that night and wake up way too early the following day. We stumble around in the dark, trying not to wake up Graye as we put last minute things together. A slightly cranky and confused daughter awakens to an argument over whether or not a light should be left on and if so, what one won't explode and burn the house down while we're gone? Zol's dad arrives 30 minutes too early to take us to the airport and opens the door as I'm yelling "JUST GO LOAD THE FUCKING CAR WILL YOU!?!"

Dropped off at the airport and standing at the curb Zol tries to carry/pull everything while asking me for the 10th time that morning if I have our passports and tickets. By now my early breakfast has worn off and my hypoglycemia has kicked in. As far as I'm concerned I am no long responsible for anything that comes out of my "hangry" mouth (hungry anger!).

The Vancouver airport drives me nuts. Pulling out your passport and taking off your shoes fifty million times with a small child is incredibly annoying and tiresome. Graye, almost 12 months old still could not walk and had to be in a stroller that was apparently cramping her style. She wailed as we started to go through security. We loaded everything into the containers for the X-ray, pushed our carry on bags down the rolling belt and waited patiently on the other side for our things to clear. Waiting. Waiting. Told to stand aside for other passengers to pass. They started opening up Zol's bag. The bag that took him almost 5 minutes to close it was so full. After a few minutes I asked what was wrong. "Da nye" "I'm sorry what? Da nye?" "Yezz, Da nye, da nye."

Zol and I looked at each other in confusion. What the HELL was a da nye? 10 minutes passed. The little Philippino security woman had pulled out every single piece of clothing in the suitcase and kept running them through the X-ray. I stood beside her and asked again, "I'm sorry, a da nye?" "YES NYE!" Her hand finally reached into one of Zol's pocket shorts and pulled out a 2 inch small pocket knife. Knife. KNIFE. THE KNIFE. "No WAY! I've been looking for that!" he said. Well he didn't get it back, and after stuffing all of his now unfolded clothing back into the suitcase we were finally on the way to our gate. We laughed it off, bought a bag of chips for me to munch on and waited to board the plane. Board the plane together, as we were seated together... on the plane... in the seats we had chosen that were beside each other on the plane. Seats beside each other. Apparently not.

I smiled sweetly at the woman beside me as Graye started to crank up. Discretely I pulled up my shirt, opened my nursing bra and stuck Graye on my boob. Popping my head up and turning back to look at Zol I gave him a frightened glare. I turned to the woman beside me. "I'd like to apologize in advance for the next 5 hours. I'm hoping she'll take a nap during the flight." She smiled and nodded as she adjusted her seat belt. The next words that nearly fell out of my mouth were "Excuse me, can I get a Vodka and soda with ice?" but alas it was 7am and there was a baby stuck on my boob. To be continued....

Just had one of the most scariest experiences of my life tonight... Part 4

yes, i know this is getting a TAD annoying. but it's life right? and trust me i wish this had been over 3 posts ago. soooo.... (or just scoll down and work your way up)

if you haven't read part one... you can find it here.
if you haven't read part two... you can find it here.
if you haven't read part three... you can find it here.

it's like clockwork. not 4:57am, not 5:28am but 5:30am right on the dot.
"Mama? mummmma? dada. daaaa da. mumma? mum? dadda?" you can hear her rocketing around in her crib that is on the other side of our bedroom wall. i am truely blessed with a husband that gets up and brings her to me so that i can breastfeed her for a few minutes. oh and YES i'm still breastfeeding. she lays with us for 20 minutes, i pick her up and put her back in her crib. she fusses for about 10 seconds and falls back asleep. i crawl back into bed already dreading what i know is going to happen. usally i curl back up under the covers or cuddle with Zol and fall back fast asleep, but like the last 5 nights i know i will now lay awake with a racing mind until she awakes again in a few hours. why can't i just let this shit go? why must i obsess about it? all the thoughts going through my head are the EXACT same ones i've had the last few nights at this time. JUST LET IT GO DALYN. ya - sure. right, that would be nice.

i had an appointment with ICBC that morning at 9am. after tossing and turning i got graye up when she called for me again at 7:30am. zol kissed us goodbye at 8 and Graye and I had breakfast and then got dressed. there are good mornings and bad ones and you can only imagine what this day was - a BAD one. i fought clothing, jacket and boots onto her, grabbed a book for her to read and hopped into the car. i checked my wallet to make sure that my renewed licence paper was in my wallet before i pulled away fom the house. i arrived early and parked in stall number 11, waiting for my claims adjuster to arrive. 5 minutes later a mans head appeared out of an office door.

"Mrs. S zilvassy?"
"Yes! that's me!" he came towards me, and i thought - i should shake his had and introduce myself. orrrrrr NOT. there was no hand to shake. there was a three fingered prosthetic metal arm that protruded from his long sleeved shirt. OK so i didn't shake his hand. after introducing myself i gave him a run down of what had happened last Wednesday night. he looked at the van where the damage should have been and asked me to follow him into the interview office... a small box of room.

now as a 17 month old child i can imagine what Graye was thinking. hmmm, what can i get into here?
"WOW MAMA! wow!" she pointed to the back of his computer where 10 or more cables had caught her fancy. for the next 1.5 hours i was fighting her to keep away from them. the interview was painful to say the least. i told him EXACTLY what had happened. he stopped me several times to tell me what i SHOULD have done. after the 3rd interruption i stopped him.

"Listen, I'm really sorry about the way that things happened. i knew from the moment i got out of my van that it was all a mess. but you have to understand that i had no idea why he was chasing me. and when he started screaming at me all of my rational judgement just went out the window. i felt so threatened and scared that i was incapable of making ANY right decisions. calling the police meant that i was going to have to be with this guy until they showed up, however long that would take. in my mind, all i wanted to do was get away from him. so i did what knew would make the situation better - for my own SAFETY. i gave him my licence and phone number and left after i felt it was safe to go."

by now Graye has had it. the adjuster laboriously types my statement with his ONE good hand (one finger typing - gaaa!). Graye at some point trips and cracks her head on a protruding corner of a wall. the screams are almost unbearable. when she calms down i apologize.

"I am SO sorry. i just had no idea the claim would take so long."
"REALLY? you've been accused of a hit and RUN! this is a LEGAL proceeding Mrs. S zilvassy!" i tried to keep calm, but I was getting pretty pissed off at this point.
"OK, i never felt my van getting hit and there is NO evidence of my van being hit. As far as i'm concerned i was DRIVING HOME not leaving the scene of a crime!"

Graye continues to scream...
After an hour and a half he is finally done writing the report with one finger. he prints it out and brings me the copy to read and sign. there are around 10 typos that he has to fix... .... .... waiting waiting for him to come back from the second printing. finally he appears with a copy of the statement for me to take home. he says that i may need to come in for an assessment of both vehicles side by side. Now THIS freaks me out. i do NOT want to see this guy gain and REALLY don't want him to see my van. he said that the guy had called in and though he had not been in yet for an assessment he said that HE had pulled over to let ME pass. i adjusted Graye on my hip and chuckled saying, "ha, well that's pretty funny."

i crammed Graye into her car seat, kicking and screaming at me pushing one of my final buttons. i slammed the sliding door and hopped into the drivers seat. where are my keys? i searched everywhere. the adjusters assistant guy had used them to check the mileage. i ran back the the interview room to tell him my keys weren't there. off he went to find the other guy. i hopped back into the van and pulled my seat belt on and as i clicked the belt in i saw the tip of my key chain wedged way behind my seat. NICE WORK GUYS! the adjuster reappeared and i told him i'd found the keys BEHIND MY SEAT. he said nothing and walked away.

as the big garage door opened i pulled my van out of the bay. my stomach rushed and my heart was pumping again. I was being accused of a hit and run!? bring on the sleepless nights... BRING THEM ON. why does this kind of stuff happen to me!!?

Just had one of the most scariest experiences of my life tonight... Part 3

if you haven't read part one... you can find it here.
if you haven't read part two... you can find it here.

i climbed up the steps and pulled open the screen door. as i put my key in the lock the door was pulled open by zol on the other side.
"Hey." i said, and slipped in, dumping my purse pulling off my shoes and coat at the same time. i followed him out of the coat room and into our living room.
"Did you have a good time? i thought you'd be later..."
"Ya we had a great time." i got a glass of water from the kitchen then came and sat beside him on the couch. i turned to him.
"Um. uhh... something happened while i was driving home tonight."

There is this look that zol can give me that says a shitload of words all at one time. it says this... "OK what the heck have you done? it's bad isn't it? or is it something really stupid? how can i fix it? am i going to have to hurt someone?"

"What?" he says - calmly. i tell him the events of the last 20 minutes. when i mention myself getting out of the car he interrupts with an explosive "WHY THE HELL DID YOU GET OUT OF THE VAN!?" i calmed him down with the fact that i YES i was now aware of my stupidity and then went on with what happened after i got out of the van. he told me what i should have done, and of course he was right... go to a well lit area (gas station) and deal with it there NEXT TIME. he hugs me as i cry out the fear i'd been sucking up from the moment i first jumped out of the van. we climb the stairs to bed and fall to sleep.

5pm the next day. my phone rings DUNCAN W ONG.
IGNORE!
7pm... my phone rings again... DUNCAN W ONG.
IGNORE!
duncan? i thought he said David? he leaves a message with his phone number.

"Hey Daisy, you hit my car last night. call me... 604-...-..."

that entire day my head had been reeling with all kinds of thoughts. i must admit i obsess over alot of things, and this kind of thing takes the CAKE. my brain just would NOT drop it.

that night after Zol got home we went out and looked at the van. nothing. NOTHING on it.

My mother arrived early the next morning from dropping my father off at VGH for and angiogram. my day worsened as we waited 7 hours for the call to pick him up. finally the call came. my mother held her cell phone to her ear, her brow furrowed and jaw tight. she asked a progression of questions that ended with... "NO... oh no. oh my... ...really?" looks like my dad needs a tripled by pass. as my mother hung up the phone her body shrunk within itself, much like one's does when you receive life changing and maybe devastating news. i hugged her and we cried. this was not what either of us had expected for that day.

i called the cops the next day, they told me to call ICBC. so i did. i told them what happened. there was a pause. i heard a keyboard clicking away and then silence.

"Mrs. S zilvassy, are you aware that your drivers licence has been expired since October?" My heart sunk. I had NO IDEA. i know it's "5 years" but in my head i had renewed it 4 years ago. she was very nice and told me what to do, how to get it renewed. she gave me an ICBC claim number so that somebody could look at my van and see that there was not a spec of damage on it...

not 5 minutes later DUNCAN W ONG showed up on my phone. this time i answered.
"Daisy?"
"DAY-LYNN. listen, i've called the police and ICBC."
"YOU CALL ICBC?!"
"Yes i did. when i get the claim number i'll let you know."
"YOU CALL ICBC? THEN I CALL ICBC TOO!"
"OK - go for it. bye!" CLICK... asshole.

at that time i had Graye to distract me and we carried on with our day. later that night when i tried to go to bed I laid awake for hours and hours and hours. the next morning, with only 3 hours of sleep i dragged Graye downstairs and cooked her up some eggs and toast. i sat behind her on a hard chair in the kitchen sipping my coffee watching Dora the Explorer animate across the TV screen. The rest of my day was a blurrrr..... i called Zol and asked him to please pick up a bottle of wine. and he did... thank God.

to be continued AGAIN.

Just had one of the most scariest experiences of my life tonight... Part 2

if you haven't read part one... you can find it here.

there are several different kinds of "your heart was pumping" situations.

1. you've been smoking for a few years and just ran up a big flight of stairs and can barely talk or breath and something inside your chest feels like it's ready to explode.
2. you fall halfway down a flight of stairs and nearly break you neck but catch yourself and only sustain a few choice bruises, but for the next 5 minutes your heart races and your fingers tremble as you take a medicating sip of wine.
3. you watch your child jumping around on the couch and in the process she places a dancing foot into midair - and you are about 2 feet far away to catch her fall. your heart drops as she does to the floor.
4. you've been screamed at by a large intoxicated man in a dark alley - and you have about two seconds before you think he's going to grab some part of your clothing or hair as you are pulling yourself up into your van and trying to slam the door AND lock it at the same time.

i have a feeling number 4 doesn't apply to too many people.

luckily i'm pretty well versed in pulling myself up into my van. it's a 4x4 delica and rides pretty high off the ground with it's extra large snow tyres. somehow i managed to glide my body in and have my finger on the lock at the same time... JUST in time. there he was - a darkened face at my window, screaming at me again.

"GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING DRIVER LICENCE BITCH!!"

i sat there for a few seconds, staring straight ahead, trying to gather my thoughts. what was i going to do? should i just try and gun it again? no - no his car was 10 times faster than mine. i decided i needed to fix the situation.

i must admit - i can definitely get someone riled up, but i also have a pretty good knack at calming somebody down - IF i want to. i'm not sure where i learnt this skill, but i know i have it.

i turned the key in the ignition and pressed the button, rolling down my window 2 inches.

"Hey! hey... look at me. what's your name?" he turned and glared at me.
"David!"
"David? no shit. that's my dads name." his face instantly softened.
"Really? David?"
"Yup, David! crazy hey?" he threw his head back with a slight chuckle. strangely, sometimes i find it easier to deal with someone in a volatile situation when i know they've been drinking.
"So David what are we going to do?"
"Gib me your driber licence."
"Listen i'll write down the number but i'm not GIVING it to you." My fingers seemed to have a mind of their own. usually i can open my purse and whip out my wallet and retrieve said card in 5 seconds, but at this moment it felt as if i had cerebral polisy. not only were my hands shaking but my entire body pulsed in an unnatural way. i scribbled the drivers license number down along with a very 'fudged' version of my name and my phone number. i slipped it out the window into his chubby hand.

"SHOW ME YOUR LICENSE!" i slapped it up against the window. he paused, trying to focus his eyes on a very confusing first and last name.
"OK... .... thank you. i don want no ICBC. OK? i call you and we deal with it between us OK?"
"sure. OK" i said. He reached into his pocket a brought out a pack of smokes. his body weaved on top of his feet as he lit the end of his smoke. his wet lips puckered and took a deep drag, and pulling the cigarette away from his mouth he also inhaled the cold night air. he exhaled a massive amount of smoke and it curled into the 2 inch opening, billowing into my face. his face instantly looked kinder and content.

"Mind if i bum one?" yes - due to the stress i wanted one, but more because as a semi ex smoker i knew this was an easy way to end our dispute. the offering of a smoke at this moment was more like i peace pipe. when the smokes are done you both go your separate ways. I brought the window down another 2 inches and he handed me a cigatrette and lit it for me. there was a minute of silence with only the sound of exhaling in the air.

He pulled out his phone and dialed. instantly there was a rapid amount of Chinese coming from his mouth. Shit... was that Mandarin or Cantonese? the conversation excelled into almost violent yelling.
"HEY!!" i yelled, flicking the half done smoke out the window. "HEY! who are you talking to? HANG UP or i'm out of here!"
He hung up the phone and told me to calm down, saying it was his dad.
"Mandarin or Cantonese?"
"Why the fuck would you care??"
"I lived in Taiwan for 3 years..."
"HAHA!! Dats too bad!" he went on to tell me he where he was from in China, and we talked about my time in Taiwan...

i had the feeling that it was safe to leave.
"Listen David. i've got a baby waiting for me at home. I've really got to go. I'm really sorry about what happened OK, but it's late."
"Ya... .... OK. I call you tomorrow OK?"
"Sure, call me tomorrow." My fingers were still gripped around my now sweaty drivers licence. his body disappeared from the side of my van. i dropped my licence somewhere and found the emergency break. i turned the key and the engine revved. my house was to the left but i took a right. Slowly i crawled away from the scene, my heart pumping in my throat. the rear view mirror found my eyes and relief fell over me when all i saw was darkness behind me. i let the van crawl slowly home.

what-am-i-going-to-tell-zol-what-am-i-going-to-tell-zol-what-am-i-going-to-tell-zol??? i pulled up to the house, grabbed my purse and opened the van door, sliding my body out and onto the ground. our living room lights peeked out from the semi closed curtains.

i stood in the cool nights air. i let my head sink down, where i felt my chest beating against my chin. as i brought my head up i inhaled a deep deep breath, shook my shoulders and headed towards the gate, keys fumbling in my still trebbling hands.

sorry... to be continued... again...

Just had one of the most scariest experiences of my life tonight...

Ok, so it's not often I get yelled at. Maybe by my daughter when it's time to go to bed or her food isn't being made fast enough - but this is something i can handle. So you can imagine my fear of having a 200 pound half dressed man screaming at me in a darkend alley in a bad part of town at 11pm. here's what went down...


a lovely evening with the girls - it was Wednesday night, girls night and we celebrated a friend moving out of the place we'd spent many an evening being loud obnoxious women. at 10:30pm i said my goodbyes and hopped in the van and headed home. i live in South Vancouver or "little India". it's a mix of Chinese and South East Asian with a light sprinkling of white folk and a dash of gangster. i pulled off of the main road and onto my street. my house was two blocks up and the road was narrow with cars parked on either side. if two cars are headed towards each other, one must yield to the other.


a pair of headlights were coming fast at me so i pulled over to the right and waited for the car to pass. the car came ridiculously close to my van - but mine being a Japanese import, the drivers side was on the right and i couldn't see just how close the car came. needless to say i was startled and kind of gunned it, just wanting to get home asap. i looked in my rear view mirror and saw the car pull a very quick U-turn. within 5 seconds the headlights were nearly on my bumper! then i freaked out... this person was following me, chasing me! i didn't want him to know where i lived so i took a left and took a right and floored it as fast as i could. he was RIGHT on my ass the entire way. i pulled into an alley and at the point where the alley meets the next road i slammed on my brakes, turned off the van jumped out and ran to the back of van! YES - STUPID. he was already out of his car.

"What the FUCK are you doing!!?" i screamed..

"Why you run BITCH?! WHY YOU RUN!!?? WHY YOU FUCKING RUN BITCH!? YOU FUCKING BITCH! you hit me and then RUN BITCH!?"

now let me take a moment to describe what i was looking at...
beside his low-profile black two door sedan, behold! there stood a 200+ pound man. he was Chinese - his slanted eyes had the extra closed look that an evening of beer and weed delivers. his cheeks looked like two big chubby apples that were trying to suffocate his nose and his lips looked too wet, like he'd forgotten to swallow his spit a few times and with no place else to go it now oozed out of his mouth. on his feet were the classic blue plastic sandal that i knew all too well from living in Taiwan. the waistband of his synthetic track pants was hidden by a massive budah belly - fully exposed and hairless. his dragon embellished shirt was completely open and barely holding onto his slopping shoulders. around his neck hung three different coloured jade necklaces with their lucky pendants finding a home between his breasts - and not the "I've been breastfeeding for 17 months" type of breasts, but the "12 year old girl type of breasts..." kind of pert and sticky outty.

and then it all came to me. WHY THE HELL DID I JUST GET OUT OF MY VAN!? he pushed right up to me, slobbering in my face, screaming the bitch thing over and over again. he said that i had i had hit his car when CLEARLY he had hit mine. he showed me his side view mirror. there was a tiny scuff on the edge of it.

"OK - WAIT. calm the FUCK down. how much would it be to replace this or fix it?"
"ONE! MAYBE TWO GRAND!"
"are you fucking KIDDING ME?" truth was there was grey paint on his car, truth was he did hit me or we hit each other. it happened so fast i didn't know. he started screaming he was going to call the police.
"DO IT. call THEM. come on... get out your phone! call them!"
"no you fucking call them! you fucking call the police!"
"you know what? i KNOW you've been drinking and you DON'T want to call the police."
"fuck YOU i habent been drinkin'!"
"then CALL THE POLICE!"
"GIVE ME YOUR DRIVER LICENSE!!"
i saw this as my chance to get back into my car and lock the doors... so i did. i ran. got in and slammed the door - locked it. within 3 seconds he was right there at my window screaming at me to open up the door!

to be continued!
PART TWO HERE

It's been a while... but here we go...

Kneeling down, I pulled several pieces of grass from her fingers, as everything goes right into her mouth these last few weeks.

“Up Mommy, up!?” I say to her as she raises her little arms up and I nearly kill myself bending over to pick her up.

I squeeze Graye into her car seat… “Car car ride?? You wana go for a car car ride?” She giggles and then pulls her “Chris Farley face” which involves snorting with a big gummy smile. Toooo cute for words.

I hop into the drivers seat, pop in my iPod and where off! From our side Avenue we pull onto Main Street and cruise along, singing to the music. I slow down to a stop as we pull up to a red light… I turn my head slightly to the right and beside me at a bus stop stands a young man I know all too well.

Today he wears the same outfit I’ve seen him in for the last year. I’ve never officially met him in the time that we have been living in our new house, but I see him all of the time. He’s around 18 years old. His large frame fills out his baby blue Adias tracksuit in an uncomfortable way. On his feet, a pair of cheap running shoes two sizes too big for him. From his ears fall the tale tell white chords of IPod earphones. His shoulders are slumped with insecurity.

As I wait for the light to change I look him in the eyes and then wave hello. He stares right through me. The light changes, and I lurch past him, onto my destination. It’s been a while since I’ve thought of him, but when I do, I only feel sad.

Track back two months ago. The yellow house across the street from mine is where this young man spends his days. He lives with his father, mother and two sisters. It is not a happy home, and of this I am certain; it is most likely a horrible place to live. Last summer, many a day and night the street rang loud with the screams of a tyranny of a man, accompanied by loud Bollywood music for hours on end, drifting out all five of their open windows. The father lashed out in a language that is foreign to me, which made it all the more abrasive to listen to. Many times the neighbours have called the police about the abuse and nothing has even been done to fix the problem…

My baby was only four months old and was still sharing our bed with us. I was in the throws of getting her use to her own crib one night… a testy subject with a child that is use to having her mother and father at her side when night time falls. After hours of fussing she had finally settled. Any little sound might disturb her much needed sleep… AND ours.

I sat up in bed, my eyes cloudy and stinging as I tried to open them up. The baby was crying in her room. I waited a second to see if she would settle down on her own. Waiting, waiting… waiting…. Then I heard something else… or maybe it was the same thing that had woken me up? A mans voice broke the silence of our Tuesday night. His wails were racked with drunken agony and loneliness as he wandered the street out front of our home. It was all in a language I could not understand.

Most evenings when these sort of shenanigans happened I could let them go, but due to the fact that my child was truly in need of her sleep I was beyond angry when a full 20 minutes had passed and he was still writhing out front of his house across the street.

“THAT’S IT! I’m calling the police!” Zol roused from his slumber, telling me to not bother as I pushed off the duvet and fumbled for my slippers. I stumbled down the stairs and into the front room. Opening the window, the intoxicated yelps doubled in volume, and holding up my cell phone I dialed the non-emergency police number.

“Vancouver Police. What is the problem?” I explained the situation. She kept me on the line for five minutes till 2 police cars pulled up in front of our house. I watched as they dragged the man up the long staircase to his front door, his timid wife standing to the side with her head bowed. The police drove away, and the woman on the other end of the phone let me go. I trudged up the stairs and crawled back into bed, amazed that my baby hadn’t woken up yet from all of the turmoil… 2:45am… 2:55am… I sat straight up in bed again. What the??? Seriously??? He was outside again, but screaming this time.

“Fuck YOU my neighbour!! FUCK YOU!!!” over and over again he repeated the same sentence. “Fuck YOU my neighbour!! FUCK YOU!!! FUCK YOU!!!”

I rose from bed again and down into the living room where I peered out the open window, cell phone in hand. He was writhing on the front lawn of his house… and a woman stood beside him, pleading in her Indo language for him to stop. A cold wind picked up and blew the sari away from her body in loud gusts. She knelt beside him, softly touching his face and he violently pushed her away…

“Vancouver Police. What is the problem?”
“Ummm, ya I just called you guys about 30 minutes ago? Same house same problem…” I gave them the info and address…
“Mam, we’ve already removed the man that was causing the problem. He’s has been taken away to the drunk tank already.”
“Seriously? Are you sure?”
“Yes I’m sure. He’s been taken away.”
“OKaaaay…. Well then there’s ANOTHER guy doing the exact same thing at the exact same house.”

Five minutes later the police showed up again and took the second man away, painfully dragging him into the back of their car. They spoke to the woman briefly and then pulled away leaving her standing alone in the cold night.

The wind rushed up again and the streetlight threw an uneven glow over her body as her sari flapped abstractly behind her in the wind. I secretly watched her from my window for the full three minutes that she stood there alone. The wind rushed again, floating behind her as she turned and slowly went up the stairs to her now quiet home. I can’t imagine what the next day would entail for her… picking up not one, but TWO ugly, ugly men from the drunk tank…

The next morning I stood in my living room holding and bouncing my baby Graye while watching “The View”. Across the street the ‘house of horrors’ was in plain view as I listened to Whoopi Goldberg and Elisabeth Hasselbeck argue about woman’s’ rights… The front door opened across the street and the young man mentioned earlier stood in its wake. He adjusted his IPod earphones and pulled up the zipper of his baby blue tracksuit. He lumbered down the stairs and out of the front gate of his house, where he paused on the sidewalk. Pulling the IPod from his pocket, he changed the tune… waited until the new track started – and then began his daily walk. I would kill to know what song he chose to listen to that morning. What song could truly make the night before OK?

Track forward two months...
The light turns green, I put the van into 2nd gear… the bus stop and his vacant eyes are far behind me. There are only 30 feet between our lives on 55th Avenue, yet they are so amazingly far apart. I don’t know how I can help him change his horrible life - and sadly, I don’t know that I ever will try… *d

Ahhhh...Christmas! Part 1 - Decorating the Tree

Ahhh, the holiday season. Can you feel it? I walked into the Hudson’s Bay (Canadian department store) on November 1st to be greeted by soccer ball sized Christmas ordainments hung from garishly pre-lit artificial Christmas trees. A lame jazz version of ‘Deck the Halls’ was pumping out of the sound system. I could see the Christmas cheer and good will was already spreading like wild fire as I took nearly a whole minute to get my baby stroller through the heavy double doors, all the while being stared at by a 20-something year old guy on the other side of them. Maybe the iPod earphones not only impaired his hearing but also his vision and sense of chivalry.

“Excuse me…” I said sweetly to the Chinese couple that blocked the walkway into the store. They slowly turned and looked at me and then continued on with a conversation I couldn’t understand. “Excuse ME!” I said again. The woman moved barely a foot out of my way and I didn’t feel bad when my stroller wheel clipped her ankle. “Woops! Sorry!” I beetled my way through the men’s department and taking in as much air as my lungs could hold I held my breath all the way through the women’s cosmetics and perfume section. My eyes teared, as I said “No thank you!” in a high-pitched hold-your-breath kind of way to the three women that tried to spray me with this year’s latest scent. I wasn’t even here to do my Christmas shopping and already I felt the heaviness that often comes with Christmas for so many of us.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas - mostly just the decorating my own house part of it, but all in all I do enjoy it. However, with most things that we love there are also the things we dread. Here’s the beginning of a short list of some of those things…

#1. Decorating the tree:

OK, so hubby has pulled out the Christmas decoration boxes from storage, and on a nice cozy night I decide it’s time to put up the tree. Last year we bought an amazingly garish lime green artificial one, but in years past it’s always been a real tree. My husband and I have very ‘different’ ways of carrying out tasks and bringing the tree into the house and setting it up is just one of many. By the time Zol has the tree in the door the entire living room is completely covered in pine needles and the tree sap on the front door frame will never come off. In my hopes to keep the evening light and fun I say nothing, knowing that for the next week I’ll be sticking my foot with all of the missed needles that the 30-minute vacuuming session missed. Balancing the tree into the tree-holder is another task we disagree on as is using a saw inside the house to make the tree shorter (add sawdust to the 30 minute vacuuming). With the tree in place and ready to tip over at any minute, I begin to unpack the decorations. What goes on the tree first? You guessed it – the lights. Now I don’t know what the heck happens to my decoration box over the course of a year, but it never fails that my carefully wrapped up tree lights decide not to work when they are pulled out for the next Christmas season! The evening is now OVER as I can’t do anything until I have a set that actually works. Last year they actually did work, but they were permanently on the epilepsy inducing flash setting and hence completely useless.

The next day I buy a new light set and AGAIN that evening make an attempt at decorating the tree. There’s always a favorite decoration that’s been crushed into a million pieces of crazy sharp shards of glass. Several pieces of this lost treasure are later pulled from my foot in the next three days. I also somehow manage to lose the metal hooks that hang the decorations, and at least a half hour is lost to scouring the house for paperclips. With the tree up I sit back on the couch and admire my work. Now I don’t claim to be a master at tree decorating but I did learn from the best – my mother. A florist by trade, as far back as I can remember she could bang out an amazing tree every year. She taught me the proper steps to creating a beautiful exhibit, with the decorations perfectly hung and evenly dispersed - and for this, I am thankful. On a different note, I am often saddened by my husband’s response when I say “ Sweety! Come here! Soooooo…?! What do you think!??!” My arms splayed wide open, with a look on my face that only four year old has after creating an artistic masterpiece. He says, “Yah, looks good.” Oh well… can’t please them all.

The month of December carries on, and with a few missed waterings there is a halo of pine needles on the ground around the tree every other day. By December 25th the tree is a bona fide fire hazard and its lights are turned off if we need to leave the room for any extended period of time.

January 1st passes as does January 15th and finally I get enough energy to bring down the tree. I carefully wrap up the new Christmas lights knowing they’ll be useless next year and I’m pissed that I’m spending all of this time wrapping them up so delicately. With every decoration and string of lights that is pulled off the tree, 5000 needles fall to the floor. Finally naked, the tree is lugged out the door and for the next few months my socks find the needles that have AGAIN been missed in a thorough vacuuming.

But regardless I still love Christmas… it’s the same thrill and drill every year and I fall for it, going through the same motions, loving and hating them equally. But there are still a few things that get my goat during this Christmas season… so stay tuned!
Ps. do you have anything you love/hate about this season? Do tell! Leave a comment, as I love reading them! *dalyn
Pss. the pic of me in front of the tree is me all dressed up 50's style for a new years party that NOBODY else dressed up for. those are NOT my real breasts for the record, although now that i'm breastfeeding it's a pretty close resemblance of my body.

true love

It feels like your mouth does when you anticipate a piece of gum, but it covers your entire face. It starts in your nose, floods your mouth and eyes, then fills your brain with that tingle that makes your sight and nostrils water and run. I sing loudly along with the lyrics to The Dears and look down on my lap to see her smiling so sweetly up at me. My nose tingles and tears well into my eyes, but not enough to slide down my face… “Gooo! Ahhhh! Oooo! Oooo! Gaaaaahh!” she says… a chubby hand flails in the air and hits her own face. She ponders the pain, but smiles as I clap my hands to the music.

I think I have found a different and new meaning of love. I am now a mother… crazy… and SO IS MY MOMMY VOICE!!!

We're Havin' a Baby... Part Three!

A fog clouded my eyes. I blinked and blinked to clear them, but to no avail. I felt the sticky tape of the IV pulling on my arm. I looked down at my hands. Each digit looked like a chubby breakfast sausage and not one of them would bend at will. I turned my head to see Jess standing beside me, holding little Graye in his arms. Behind him Zol sat in the chair he’d earlier passed out in, smiling when he saw I was finally awake.

“How do you feel?” I felt FAT. HUGE. It was as if the Michelin Man or Pillsbury Doughboy had fathered me in some previous life. All I could see where my hands, arms and feet and I knew just from looking at them that the rest of my body was 3 times the size it normally was. Later, a picture of my face taken at the time proved it much to my dismay. Jess handed me the baby, and she nursed quietly.

The day carried on, with nurses coming in and out. My blood pressure was checked no less than 15 times over the course of the day. Zol and Jess left at some point to go clean up what Jess later called ‘a scene from an episode of the Sopranos’’ back at the house. I don’t remember much of what was said to me that day aside from the fact that I had a catheter and there would be no need to get up and pee (thank God!). My eyes remained blurry and I was lightheaded with any sudden I movement made.

For some strange reason, during my whole three-day long stay at the hospital, whenever food was brought in they placed it SO completely far out of reach I had to annoyingly buzz a nurse to come put it in front of me. By the time they got around to moving it within my grasp, much of it was cold and soggy.

That evening I was moved into another room, one with a window and thankfully a TV!! Zol came back after the clean up and we watched crappy shows and ogled our new daughter. He left later in the evening and I settled into what I thought would be the first ‘night of hell’ I’d heard so much about. Turns out this wasn’t the case as Graye would softly grunt and quietly squawk if she was hungry. Not the case with every other woman with child on that ward. They let ‘er rip ALL NIGHT LONG. I longed for my own house and bed as the woman next door to my room called her family in Russia at 4am two nights in a row. As to not wake her baby with her chatter she leaned against my doorway as she babbled away in Russian...

My teeth had the equivalent of a 70’s shag carpet on them by the next morning and I decided it was time to give them a good brushing. Moving and shifting around on the bed had been hard enough, but getting up? Yah, just a TAD more uncomfortable. Due to the whole giving birth thing and then the surgery, getting off the bed proved a bit more challenging than I had thought it would be, and getting back INTO the bed was even worse! Imagine me perched in saddle upon a horse – take the horse away… that was me trying to walk.

Later in the day my midwife Beth showed up and asked me if I had remembered anything she’d told me the day before. I had no recollection of even seeing her, so she retold me the news… the placenta had been removed successfully and without any damage done to my uterus. There was no known reason as to why it had not released. Retained placentas weren’t that common and nobody really knows why it happens. She told me to keep taking my stool softeners (that did NOTHING) and Tylenol and that she’d be back the next day to hopefully get me checked out of the hospital.

Thursday morning came and six hours of waiting finally had us released from the maternity ward. A million papers to go over… getting the baby into her car seat… yada yada the hospital drill… finally we walked out the door into an amazingly beautiful day. The sun was bright and hot and so was our van that had been parked in it for six steady hours. The seven speed bumps we went over to exit the parking lot reminded me that my body was still not yet my own. It felt like I had been kicked in the box to an extent I’d never imagined possible, but looking down at our wee little one, so small she needed to be wedged into her seat with rolled up diapers and blankets – I almost felt no pain.

We were going home – as a real FAMILY. Zol and myself were now connected for a lifetime whatever the winds may bring us… and that felt…. wonderful.