Happy 100th, Navy!

My sunburn is really itchy. I can't remember the last time I got burned—I mean, I have brown skin for goodness' sake, and we never get burned! Last Saturday, we joined throngs of people at the Esquimalt Lagoon to watch the festivities marking the 100th anniversary of the Canadian Navy. It was a lovely day for a picnic, complete with hotdogs, fruits and a cheesecake dip (yum!), ginger ale, cheezees and ripple chips, all courtesy of my wonderful in-laws. Jaden had a huge tub of beach toys and proceeded to dig her way to China while getting her bum wet. There was a breeze and the air was still damp—it hasn't been a warm spring and it's still taking a little longer to warm up for summer which is 4 days away—so I kept my hoodie on. The slight chill fooled me into thinking there would be no need for any of the 4 bottles of different sunscreens I'd packed. Well, I did slather some on my face, I'm vain enough for that. At some point, I looked at my hubby and by golly, his face was so red that I immediately scrambled for the bottle and put some screen on my legs. Too late. The top of my knee where my Capri’s ended, down my legs and the top of my feet were red and stinging. And even my face didn't escape the wrath of the sun (how can it burn skin but fail to warm me up?!?!?!). When we got home and I had showered off the lotion—dancing in the shower because the water stung on my poor, burned legs—I looked in the mirror and a raccoon face looked back at me. The days after were spent 'gently' scratching the healing burns with the fleshy fingertips—no fingernails please! At least the angry red is gone now, replaced by dark patches. No Capri's and shorts for a while.

The lagoon was like a scene from war movies where waters just off a beach are littered with hulking warships. The local paper described it as a scene from the game Battle of the Ships. There were naval ships from Japan, New Zealand, USA, Australia and France. It was so neat to see the USS Ronald Reagan with 3 (hubby says 4) choppers on its runway. We were treated to cool parachute tricks from the Canadian Forces' Skyhawks, who dropped out of the sky in Canada flag chutes and did twists and turns while trailing red smoke.  Then came choppers and planes in a Search and Rescue demo, followed by a lone F-18 that heralded the arrival of he popular Snowbirds. Even Jaden came up from digging to watch the 'birds, and as always, they put on an amazing and thunderous show. I think it takes so much great skill to fly 9 planes in perfect formation and execute thrilling loop-the-loops and weave-around-each-other moves, safely.

Here are photos:

All in all, a wonderful experience that sent us all to napland (or at least, early bedtimes) at the end of the day. Thank God the burns are healing and someone invented Eucerin calming lotion.

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Making My Day

Some people measure success by how busy they are. I measure mine by how happy and content I am—I have an easygoing 9-5 job and that I can leave behind at the end of the day so I can go home and spend happy time with family. The only stress I have is the last 2 minutes before my bus comes in the morning and I'm almost always never ready, and  then it's a leisurely ride with perfect views of Haro Strait, sunrise over Michell's Farm, and the breathtaking Olympic Mountains. This is the way I start and make my stress-free day.

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Keeping Friends

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-- June 30, 2011

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How A Liter Can Hurt

For my ultrasound scan, I got an official notification of my schedule, with the ominous note to drink 32 oz of water an hour before, and "please to refrain from voiding," otherwise the scan will be rescheduled. 

Do you know how awful it is to force a liter of water down your throat? And do you know how long you can last with this liter in your bladder before you absolutely have to go? But I waited two weeks to get my scan scheduled, so I wasn't about to jeopardize this one by chickening out. My scan was at 9am, so I drank the 4 cups from 7:30 to 8, and managed not to puke. By 8:40 I was ready to go, and the bathroom by the waiting room was like heaven in my eyes. By 9 I was in doubled over in pain, crying and clutching my hubby's hand--the perfect rehearsal for labor.There was only one technician working, and I could hear her with a patient in the room. My only thought then was damn, her perfect bedside manners are grating on my nerves. Could she please just get on with it and do me ASAP because I swear, I was going to flood the waiting room. Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore, and surely they didn't mean for an ultrasound scan to be THIS painful. I let some out and hoped to the high heavens that whatever's left in my bladder would not send me out to wait another 2 weeks for a reschedule. 

When it was my turn, Leslie the tech (whose perfect manners I absolutely treasured afterwards) actually said my bladder was too full and was squishing everything inside. She made me go and dump two cups! So much for that liter--she told me for next time I just had to make sure my bladder felt full, not bursting. (With an aside as to how I had probably already stretched it to twice its normal size.) 

Pain and grossness aside, it was a real joy to see our baby and the prints Leslie gave us are priceless. It's going up on the wall in the baby room.

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We're Expecting!

Last year I felt the maternal tug again, and started hounding my hubby about getting pregnant. He finally agreed in March this year. A month after I took my last pill, I did a home pregnancy test twice but both came out negative. I started researching online about how long it takes approximately for women to get pregnant after they start trying, and was horrified to learn that the pill actually makes your body think it is in menopause, and so will not produce eggs. There were sad stories of women who tried for years and years and who had to resort to fertility drugs to concieve. So I thought then that I should be prepared for that eventuality, though I hadn't been on the pill that long.

In early May, I took a couple of days off work for severe heartburn, exhaustion and dizziness, and it didn't even occur to me! I took some Zantac for the heartburn and lay on the couch all day. My hubby then said, "Maybe you're pregnant?" I scoffed at him and said, "No way." He made me get an HPT kit anyway. On May 7 while he was making breakfast, I came out of the bathroom into the kitchen waving the stick, and casually said, "So do you want to save this for the baby book?" Yup, we were pregnant!

I did a second test that same day and went to the walk-in clinic on the weekend --both tests were positive. After two weeks I went to see a maternity doctor for the first time, got all preliminary bloodwork done, and because there was a confusion as to my due date, she had me scheduled for an ultrasound scan. It was to be either December 2010 or January 2011. (Hubby would like the baby to come in January so "he" wouldn't be the runt in the hockey team.)*

The days that followed were filled with library books about eating healthy, lots of time online window-shopping for baby stuff and creating ridiculously early baby registries, and frustration at not being able to announce because one, we wanted to make sure of the due date first, and two, I was stupidly waiting for the first trimester to be over, and the supposed dangers of miscarriage will have lessened by then. I quit caffeine, had a relatively short bout of headaches and extreme tiredness, was constantly eating but thank goodness, not putting on weight, and even went shopping for gently used maternity pants, already! Then I couldn't stand it anymore--we had to tell our families, and Big J especially. We'd gotten her a 'big sister' shirt, and when she opened the package, she didn't understand at first. When she finally clued in, she was so happy and excited She ran up and down the hallway screaming and jumping up and down! Then she wore the shirt to hubby's parents' house, and it was funny and heartwarming all at the same time seeing their reactions. It took Grandpa a while to realize the meaning of the shirt, Grandma lost her composure but in fairness did not cry, aunties and uncle were happy and excited, and Great Grandma was rendered speechless for half an hour. Big J also broke the news to my parents over the phone and they were happy too, and already planning the big trip across the ocean!

After all this, one night I sat on the couch and told hubby that I still could not believe it. Imagine getting pregnant within two months of trying, and for a while there I thought we would have to wait a long time. And because it's early in the pregnancy and my symptoms had virtually disappeared, I kept thinking it was all false alarm, a big joke, that maybe I had some kind of condition that made the tests appear positive. To humour me, hubby went to the pharmacy and got me another HPT kit (and a bag of cheezies at my request). Still positive. How many tests do I need to do? And I mean, my tummy looks like it's getting bigger. Thank God after another couple of weeks, people at work started noticing and asking. Phew, it must be real then. Hubby thinks I'm nuts.

Yesterday we finally went for the ultrasound scan. Hubby had this wonderful, idiotic grin on his face as we saw our peanut already doing somersaults at 5cm! It's so amazing how something so tiny can be so complete, so perfectly formed--arms and legs that were busy kicking and waving around, a heart rate of 160bpm. I'm only sad because kids are not allowed in the room, because I think Big J would have loved seeing baby brother or sister inside the tummy like that. She had to make do with pictures, and then she couldn't stop giggling when I described to her how the baby was rolling around. 

 

(Pic 1. Peanut as seen sideways, just perfect. Pic 2, Looking down on Peanut's head, arms are crossed in front of him.)

And so now the scan has put my due date somewhere in the second half of December. Hubby's colleague at work joked that at least there's nothing going on that time of the year. Hubby tells his mom, either we have a brand new baby or a hugely pregnant lady on Christmas, or be opening presents at the hospital. For me, the only present that will matter then is the bundle of squirmy baby I will be holding in my arms.

*Outliers: The Story of Success by Malcolm Gladwell.

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