moot vaccination
As it turns out, my family's personal H1N1 vaccination question is currently moot. Now the idea in Alberta is that only certain high-risk groups of people should be vaccinated at this time, and Sam, Brett and I do not fit into any of those high-risk categories. Indeed, Sam still has about a month to go before he'd even be eligible for the vaccine and, therefore, enter into such a category.
It feels like the government’s vaccination message has changed, going from "OMG everyone get vaccinated right now," to, "It was always only for the high-risk people in the first few weeks, and we're redoing the whole program to make it how it was always supposed to be."
This is stupid. It’s bloody well hard enough to make important decisions like this without information changing on me because the provincial government screwed up its vaccine distribution plan in the first place. Right now, Brett and I are leaning toward “no” for our family whenever any of us would be eligible to get the vaccine. By the time any of us could, it’ll be well into the flu season and likely make the vaccine even more moot than it already is for us.
Labels: Alberta, Brett, H1N1, Samuel, social commentary
on the H1N1 vaccination fence
The realm of motherhood keeps me too busy to blog lately. I can snap a few pictures here and there and put them on Facebook, but my world pretty much revolves around Sam right now. (And honestly, the pictures I take are usually of Sam.) And that's okay. That's the way it should be when one has an infant to care for. The bit of spare time I've had for writing has been going to my fiction endeavours.
However, something is bothering me that I need to write about, just to try to sort out my own thoughts: H1N1 vaccinations and whether or not Brett, Sam—
when he's old enough—and I should get them. Brett and I have been discussing this and haven't reached any conclusion.
To be clear, I am not someone who believes that vaccines are part of some evil conspiracy or that thimerosal causes autism, nor is Brett. Sam has received and will continue to receive his regularly scheduled childhood vaccinations. These childhood vaccines have been around for years and proven relatively safe, and we feel that any risks with having Sam get those vaccinations are minor in comparison to what could happen if he got the diseases the vaccines prevent. I remember being seven and having red measles. It wasn't until years later that I understood just how sick red measles had made me and that my risk of dying from it had been high.
But I feel some trepidation when it comes to the H1N1 vaccine. First, I can't find any actual data for the clinical trials that were held and are still being held in Canada for this new vaccine. All I can find is commentary on government websites and expert opinion in media outlets that the vaccine is safe. (Am I just not looking in the right place? If anyone knows where said data are available, please, let me know.) I'd like to read about what actually happened and is happening, particularly in the clinical trials for six- to nine-month-old babies.
Second, I'm not keen on the mandatory adjuvant in the vaccine. The squalene that is one of the adjuvant's components comes from
shark liver. So the vaccine is not completely compatible with the vegetarian lifestyle I've chosen for myself. (I'm a lacto-ovo vegetarian, so the growing of vaccines in eggs doesn't conflict with my personal beliefs.) According to its website,
Alberta Health Services is refusing to let people choose to get the H1N1 without the adjuvant unless they are pregnant because of limited non-adjuvanted vaccine supply.
Third, there is practically no information on the effects of the vaccine in breast milk and in the breastfed baby. All I can find is
information telling me I should still breastfeed if I get sick, which I already knew. Sam is just five months old as of tomorrow, and he's, therefore, not old enough to get the vaccine himself yet. How do I know getting some vaccine through breast milk won't hurt him?
Should I compromise my vegetarian values and get the adjuvanted vaccine? Should I wait until Sam is old enough to get the vaccine himself, and then we get it at the same time? Should I just keep taking the same OCD precautions that I always do against germs? Is H1N1 so scary that I should get me to one of the overcrowded Calgary vaccination clinics now?
What is really irritating me as Brett and I debate about H1N1 vaccination are the suggestions that anyone who hesitates to get this shot
lacks common sense and
is stupid. Neither of these things is true of us. We're just like everyone else who wants what is best for family and self. Weighing options and evidence is a sensible thing to do here. So for the moment, Brett and I will continue to talk about what we should do, for ourselves and for Sam.
Labels: Brett, H1N1, Samuel, social commentary
Sam's first overnight trip
I'm perpetually amazed at how much stuff is required to take my son anywhere such as a coffee shop or doctor's office, and even more was needed for our out-of-town trip this past weekend. Brett made sure to get a car with a large enough trunk to accommodate all of our requisite gear: stroller, travel bag that goes under the stroller, bassinet, breast pump, three sets of luggage, and my computer bag. In Sam's luggage, I pretty much packed all of his clothes. It was a good thing, too, as it turned out we needed nearly every item of his clothing, which of course is much more than the amount of clothing he normally goes through in a two-day period.
Sam is a great traveller, it appears. Like many babies, he sleeps in his car seat contently and slept the entire way to Edmonton except for waking for a short meal. On the way home, he didn't wake up.
Our first stop was Alexis' house. It seemed only natural and right, given how wonderful and supportive she's been to the three of us, that Alexis would be the first person we'd visit on Sam's first ever overnight trip. There were many, many wonderful moments during our visit. This is one of my favourites:
Alexis came to visit us at the hotel we were staying at on Whyte, and she and Brett made their way through much of a bottle of wine while I enjoyed my root beer. (I know: I'm wild.) In the meantime, a storm had been brewing across Edmonton, and not unexpectedly after watching city block after city block lose power, we found ourselves immersed in darkness.
Sam, of course, slept through the storm and the power loss. (Right now, he's waking up 99 per cent of the times he does because he's hungry.) We three adults, however, continued our conversation and watched the lightning keep brightening up the otherwise completely darkened landscape. Shortly thereafter, a hotel employee came around offering a candle for us, which we accepted. I'm glad we had it, for changing Sam's diaper with the little light it provided was not the easiest task in the world. I can't imagine what it would have been like if I'd had no candle.
We're not sure what time it was when Alexis left to go home, but we were relatively certain it was during the wee hours of Sunday. The three of us sitting in the dark and just conversing on various interesting topics reminded me a lot
of how Brett and I spent Earth Hour.In the morning, Brett, Sam, and I went to the continental breakfast room. Sam was well behaved as his parents enjoyed a leisurely breakfast. Then the three of us went for an extended stroll on my and Brett's favourite stretch of Whyte Avenue. I love the area we live in now with its extended trail system and sometimes country feel, but being on Whyte Avenue again reminded me of what I miss about living near a busy core, particularly this one.
Brett and Sam in front of Chapters on Whyte
Sam and I across the street from my and Brett's
old apartment building on Whyte
Despite how bright and sunny the morning started, dark clouds quickly rolled in, and it was quite windy by the time we got back to the hotel to pack up our gear. We met up with Duncan, Allie, Wesley, and Raven at the West Edmonton Mall and elected to have lunch at the Earl's on Bourbon Street. One of my favourite things about this time was Brett and Duncan each having a turn feeding Sam a bottle of expressed milk. Allie and I both took numerous pictures of the men feeding Sam.
It wouldn't be a complete trip to a mall with an Apple Store without Brett visiting said Apple Store, so of course we all headed over there. I was able to catch a small break in the WEM crowds to get this photo of Brett about to introduce Sam to the wonders of the Apple world:
Soon, though, it was time for Brett, Sam, and I to head back to Calgary with new fond memories in tow. Brett and I are happy that Sam is such a content little guy who is happy to go on whatever adventures we take him on.
More pictures from the trip are
here.
Labels: Alexis, Allie, Brett, Duncan, Edmonton, Samuel, Whyte Avenue
motherhood moments
Motherhood thus far has been a series of moments for me, many of them blurred together in a continuation of baby developmental progress. I praise Sam for his efforts and let him know how happy I am to see him; even if he doesn't understand me yet, he can surely understand through my tone that his mommy is proud of and loves him.
Sam sits snuggled against my chest, his legs curled up to his abdomen, arms resting upward. Suddenly, he stretches his neck and balances his head. It's an awkward motion for him, but he grows more confident and stronger over time. Now he can hold his head up for longer periods. It won't be long before he can hold his head up with ease, I'm sure.
He wants to move on his own so much, and I want to encourage him in this mark to independence. When Sam has tummy time, I place my palms against the soles of his feet, and he pushes off against my palms to slide along whatever surface he's on. The length of a couch cushion and a half warrants a short nap for Sam.
I'm told by the doctor that Sam sleeps extraordinarily well for such a young baby. Sam wakes up all of once or twice per night so he can eat. It's to the point now where I often find myself waking in advance of him because I somehow know when he's going to be hungry. He's not fussy, just wanting to get down to the important business of eating.
Brett and I are trying to establish routines in Sam's life. Going to Starbucks via the neighbourhood's walking/biking trails has quickly become a fixture of our weekends. Sam is embracing the coffee shop culture already.
There are many other moments, little moments, that also make me feel good about becoming a mother such as Sam smiling when Brett or I am paying attention to him, when I'm dancing with Sam through the open living room and kitchen, and when Sam falls asleep on me after he's eaten.
Sometimes I just look at Sam and marvel that I'm this little guy's mom and he's my son. I look back at the many pictures I've taken of Sam and am amazed at how quickly he's grown in his six weeks of life. I look at Sam and just think of how overjoyed I am that he's here with Brett and me.
Labels: Brett, Samuel
just behind the veil: in memoriam Sabrina
Sabrina
~March 9, 1992 to June 4, 2009"'You heard them, just behind the veil, didn't you?'
'You mean...'
'...They were just lurking out of sight, that's all.'"
- from Harry Potter and the Order of the PhoenixDear Sabrina,
Once upon a time, I came across a tiny three-week-old kitten sitting on step outside of where I lived in Cape Breton. The kitten's big, bushy tail was nearly as long as her body. It was early April, yet it was winter cold outside. I cuddled the kitten inside my jacket, and she purred softly at first, but then the purr grew louder as the kitten warmed up. A snowstorm would hit later that night, but the kitten would fortunately be safe and warm inside.
I loved you from that first moment I saw you, Sabby. I knew you and I belonged together, but little did I know how much and how long of a journey we would go on.
You were just a few months old when you first started going behind the entertainment centre. And it wasn't long before you decided to talk whenever you jumped into that space. Countless times, I would lean over the entertainment centre's top to see what you were doing, and you would sit up and look at me and meow away in vocalizations that sounded like your own language. "Telling stories" is what one of my aunts used to call it. You enjoyed being in the space behind the entertainment centre so long as we lived in that particular apartment; however, it wasn't long before you started talking outside of that space as well.
Since your first days, you loved being around people. The vet to whom you were taken after I found you told me that you followed her around the clinic as you recovered from various ailments. This story was immediately followed by a request by her to keep you for her own pet, to which I of course said no. She was just one of many people who loved you because you were you.
Throughout your life, I would often receive comments about how you were different from other cats. You were social. Wherever your people were, there you were as well. You greeted guests when they came in, and for many years, one way you showed guests how much you liked them was to sniff and then sleep on their shoes. In later years, you would always sit with company in the living room and sometimes ask for attention. Few people could resist petting you when you asked.
One time, I was bringing newly bought groceries from the front door to the kitchen and discovered you headfirst inside a grocery bag. It turns out that you had discovered and were contently munching on a head of romaine lettuce. Each leaf peeking out of the produce bag had Sabrina nibble marks on it.
You also developed a preference for broccoli and mint. One day, when you were just a kitten, I heard my mom erupting into laughter and found you standing on your hind legs licking peppermint lotion off the bottoms of her feet: that's how we found out you loved mint.
Once, you and Whiskers were chasing each other in a circle around a chair that had a lamp sitting over it. The two of you kept swiping the lamp's cord with your paws, thereby turning the lamp on and off. That's when Mitten shooed you both from the chair and tucked the cord inside the lamp shade with her paw.
Besides providing much mirth, you were often my solace. I've spent a lot of my life feeling alone and unhappy, and I could always count on you to comfort me with your purrs and your love. No matter how poorly I was feeling, you always tried to help me feel better. If I had a bad day, I would come home and you'd often be standing at the door to greet me. Even the thought of you once helped me in a very difficult and trying moment: you saved me then just as much as I saved you as a kitten.
We journeyed together to Alberta after I made a decision about changing my life, and by extension yours, for the better. We lost a lot of things, and for a while didn't have much, but we always had each other. You were always my beautiful green-eyed girl who kept me going through it all.
The last six years of your life, I believe, were amongst some of our best because that's when Brett became part of our little family. You took to him right away and let me know that he was the guy for us. One of my fondest memories of the two of you is one of the first times Brett came to visit us in Calgary. He was tired after a long drive and decided to lie on the bed while I got a shower. When I came into the room, the two of you were asleep, side by side, and on your backs; cutest of all, your back right paw was sitting in his left hand.
You and Brett had your own little routines together. Whenever he had tuna, he'd save you the juice and put it in a bowl for you. You liked jumping from the couch to Brett's desk, which delightfully still bears your claw marks, especially if he had glass of water for himself or if you wanted his attention. You would always try to get Brett's water or anything else he might have to drink. When you started to get sick and lost so much weight, you decided that you would become lap cat for just Brett and use him as your new sleeping place at night. I watched one night as Brett rolled over from his back to his stomach and you on top of him merely rolled along with him, clearly having had much practice at this already.
For me, you became more cuddly. I think you understood with my pregnant belly, you couldn't sit on my lap, but you could snuggle with me or near me. One of my favourite moments of this was when I was in my eighth month and you and I were on the bed. You were above my head nestled in the bed's decorative pillows.
You held on as long as you could to make sure that I was all right after Sam was born. Did you know that all wasn't completely well with me health-wise at the hospital and you wanted to see me when I got home? Did you wait till after Sam was born so you would know I would have someone else to hold in my arms when you were gone?
You let me know you approved of and loved Sam. You cuddled with me when I cuddled with Sam, and the two of you would have naps together, he in his bassinet and you in the chair you'd long since appropriated from Brett. I know that napping with someone is one of the many ways you showed your love.
I miss you so much, Sabrina. You've been part of my life longer than most anyone else has, and you were so loyal and loving from the beginning right to the very end. Brett and I hope you are doing well just behind the veil and know that we love you and think of you fondly very much.
I love you, my beautiful kitten, always.
Beatrice
Labels: Brett, Sabrina, Samuel
the arrival
May 28: AntepartumMy cell chimes its cheery Caribbean ringtone; on the other end of the line is my obstetrician. "Don't come to my office for your appointment today," she tells me. "Go to Foothills." Two days ago, I was required to get stat blood work done. My blood pressure was way too high, and now it appeared I was rapidly losing platelets, which help the body in its ability to clot blood.
I call Brett at work, and he's home within 40 minutes via rental car. We go to Foothills Unit 51 together, and I spend most of the morning in triage hooked up to a blood pressure cuff and a fetal monitor. My platelet levels are retested, and results show said platelets have drastically plummeted within two days. My blood pressure isn't going down either. The cure for pregnancy-induced hypertension and dropping platelets is to have the baby. Fortunately, I'm in my 39th week of pregnancy, so this can be taken care of right away.
"Congratulations! You've won an induction," the doctor announces.
Brett is excited because he is ready to meet our son already. He's been hoping we wouldn't just be sent home to wait until our baby decided on his own to make an appearance. I am, on the other hand, somewhat anxious: I wasn't expecting my pregnancy to end like this.
I am temporarily moved to the antepartum unit where we meet a couple who have been there for days. The woman has been induced multiple times, and it's taken till now for her body to respond. My cervix responds to the induction procedure quickly, fortunately, much to the relief of both Brett and me.
Brett is my source of strength throughout this time. He keeps me calm. He gets me food. He talks to me about how wonderful it's going to be to meet our baby. Now and always, he's my safe person.
At around 10:30 in the evening, we decide after a nurse tells us that "it's really not kosher" for Brett to be there past visiting hours that Brett will go home to bed and I'll try to rest. It doesn't look like I'll be brought back to Unit 51 for my labour to continue tonight.
How wrong we were. Brett is about to crawl into bed at home when I call him back: I'm being moved back to Unit 51 to have the baby.
May 29: IntrapartumThis time is rather hazy for me. A combination of morphine and Gravol put me into a nice la-la land. I don't remember this, but I'm told later that I'm given medication via IV to move my labour forward. Brett and I are tired, but we're excited. This is it: our baby will be here within hours.
Sometime along the way, there is a gentle knock on the door and a quiet voice asks if I'm in the room. And it's Alexis, a true friend who is worth more than all the treasures of the world. I'd long ago asked her to be my second support person in labour, and she is there for me, just as she always is whenever I need her. Brett left Alexis a message earlier about me being induced, and she's driven from Edmonton in the middle of the night and tracked me to where I was taken within the hospital.
A penumbra sort of state takes over my body at some point as I begin having contractions. At first, they're painless, and I'm easily able to sleep between them. Alexis and Brett take turns feeding me ice chips off a plastic spoon.
Then the morphine wears off, and very suddenly, I'm aware of the baby's head wanting to come out and come out now. The nurse checks my cervix and is shocked to discover that I'm nine-and-a-half centimetres dilated when I'd just been three not more than few hours ago. An epidural kicks in quickly, and soon I'm set up on an angle to give birth to my baby.
The epidural gives me the presence of mind to focus on helping my baby to come into the world. Brett brags, to this day, about how I am during labour: I push when I need to and rest peacefully between pushes. I feel a sort of zen with what is happening; I just think about that my baby needs my help to get into the world safely, and this is how I will do it.
Brett is on my left, Alexis on my right and narrating what she sees of the labour. Brett counts the length my pushes need to be, and my most vivid memories of labour are just looking at his happy face so close to mine and listening to him count to 10.
At 6:48 in the morning, my son is placed on me. His initial cries quiet when I speak to him. The baby tries to focus on my face by closing his left eye and keeping his right wide open.
A sense of quiet awe and love overcomes me as I hold my son for the first time, and I whisper to Brett, "He's Sam."
Me and Sam
with our new babyBrett's account of Sam's birth can be found
here.
More photos of Sam are
here.
Labels: Alexis, Brett, pregnancy, Samuel
our son, Samuel Edward
not too long after being born on May 29
already developing an appreciation for all things AppleLabels: Brett, Samuel
There goes the little boy!
Brett asked me yesterday afternoon if I wanted to go for a walk around our new neighbourhood, which under non-pregnant circumstances wouldn't be a big deal. However, I'm currently in my 39th week of pregnancy and without the energy to do much of anything. (
Nesting is never going to be my thing, apparently.)
But I decided to go. It was sunny and beautiful outside, and Brett's explorations of the neighbourhood via his new bike have discovered some quiet walking/biking areas that well accompany the equally quiet townhouse complex area we moved into last Wednesday.
I knew it would be a short walk, for anytime I go walking for more than five minutes, I end up having painful Braxton Hicks contractions. Brett and I took our time, though, pausing frequently to admire the varied landscape of green space and fine houses before turning around to head back toward our townhouse.
On our way back, Brett suggested that maybe we could stop by the playground that is all of 50 feet from where we live. It's just a tiny playground, but there is well-maintained, colourful equipment of various sorts for children to play on.
Two sisters, close in age to us, were there with a 2-and-a-half-year-old daughter belonging to one of them. Brett struck up a conversation with the women, and we were chatting about the neighbourhood and my and Brett's impending baby. We were asked if we knew the sex of the baby and replied that it was a boy. The girl's aunt said to the girl, "That lady has a little boy in her tummy." The girl was shy and reticent, clinging to her aunt's legs but staring intently at my belly.
As Brett and I were leaving, the girl shouted, "There goes the little boy!" This inspired some laughter in Brett and me. As Brett said, it wasn't, "There go the man and woman," or, "There goes the lady with the baby in her tummy." The girl's focus was all on the baby, which sharply reminded me of the facts that pretty much anytime now, the little boy will make his entrance into the world and one will be able to legitimately make the observation of the little boy as being physically separate from me.
Labels: Brett, pregnancy
