Archives for June 2011

Hanging Up His Skates

June 15, 2011 by Farewell Stranger ·

Practices. Hockey camps. Games in chilly arenas. Concession stands. The whiff of a sweaty dressing room. The dampness of gear set out to dry.

I grew up in a hockey family.

My brother played, my dad coached, and the rest of us went to countless games.

When I was 10 we boarded a hockey player who played for the local WHL team and I spent a lot of time running up and down bleachers and buying orange pop at hockey rinks.

But hockey to me is mostly about my dad.

He has played for longer than I can remember – longer than I’ve been alive. It’s something I always remember him doing, and so much a part of who he is.

Growing up, I looked forward to his annual trip to a hockey tournament because he always brought t-shirts back for us. They were huge, and we wore them as nightgowns for years, not caring that they bore logos of teams and sponsors we knew nothing about.

When he got injured I was old enough to know it was worrisome even if I didn’t really understand what had happened.

As an adult, I understand more just how much hockey is in him.

I’ve heard his broken nose anecdote countless times. I’ve listened to stories of teams and players long retired who defined the game before it became about money. I’ve smiled at his reflections of playing before helmets were the norm.

Combine Ron MacLean with Don Cherry and you’d get my dad – knowledgeable and well-spoken about hockey, but passionate and not afraid to say what he thinks. The game is such a part of him – his opinions and priorities – that I’ve learned when not to comment, even when he delayed surgery for prostate cancer so it didn’t interfere with his hockey season.

Because of my dad’s love of hockey I grew up with it as part of my life. Now I have a little boy who’s growing up in that same hockey family.

When Connor was younger, we timed visits around Grandpa’s hockey practices and family dinners around Flames games. When we watched games on TV, Grandpa made sure Connor knew who to cheer for. (If you’re part of this family you’re a Flames fan, and that’s that.)

My dad got older, as dads do, but he didn’t give up the game. A few years ago my mom got him a new hockey bag as a gift – a fancy one, with wheels and lots of space for gear. He got good use out of it, carting it over and over from the house to his car and to the rink and back again, complaining, at times, about “old guys” who were a little too slow for a guy who just wanted to get out there and chase the puck.

But no longer. After almost 70 years my dad has hung up his skates. Admitting to the emotion of it, he posted on Facebook: “I just cleaned out my wheeled hockey equipment bag for the last time… It’s been a great sport.”

The bag has now gone to my brother, who carries his own flame of passion for the game.

He might not play anymore, but my dad’s involvement with hockey isn’t over. There’s a new generation coming along – someone who has the right jersey and just needs to learn how to skate. Luckily we have someone who would love to teach him.

Filed Under: Love letters · Tagged With: family, love, my wish for you

Affection in Cashmere

June 14, 2011 by Farewell Stranger ·

“Let’s go out for your birthday!” they said.

It was January. My birthday was in December, but when you have a birthday four days before Christmas you get used to celebrating at odd times. And I’m always up for a night out with these girls.

***

It started with a prenatal yoga class. Across the room, the beginning of a bond formed with another mom-to-be with a due date close to mine. We had a lot of the same pregnancy side effects. We were both having boys. She was energetic and outgoing – and SO excited about having a baby – it was hard not to notice her.

A couple of months later at a baby group, I sat in the circle on the floor with my 6-week-old son and there she was. Same dark hair. Same expressive face. But this time she had a little bundle in her arms and he looked just like her.

A self-described princess, she had planted herself firmly on the throne of motherhood and there she has stayed. Thank goodness, because she’s a supermom type, a made-to-be-a-mom type – and one of the most generous and supportive people I have ever met – who, many times, has filled up my mom kit with diversions and strategies when I’ve run out.

At the baby group we connected across the room again, over the chatter of other new mothers and new-baby squeals. She mentioned the yoga class moms had formed a moms’ group and she invited me along.

I happily accepted, not knowing I had taken a step towards something that was going to save my sanity.

There were eight of us who met regularly. Rotating from house to house to share hosting duties, that core group had visits every week during our year of maternity leave.

Four of us spent some extra time together. We’re all runners, so we ran together a couple of times a week in addition to our play dates. Up and down trails, around lakes, we talked endlessly. They became the kind of friends every new mother – every person – should have.

They were with me throughout Connor’s fussy period, when I thought I was going to go nuts. They commiserated with me when I told stories of how much my child didn’t sleep – and how much he did scream – at night. Sometimes, when I thought I couldn’t take it any more, one of them would swoop in and take him from me so I could get a break from the bouncing and the screaming inside my head.

I confessed some of my struggle, before I knew what it was. “I want to throw him out the window,” I admitted one day, sobbing over the phone because I just didn’t know what to do anymore.

Eventually, when I knew more about what was going on and was getting some help, I told them about my struggle with postpartum depression. They were accepting and supportive, as I knew they would be, and have been right there with me ever since.

***

On that night – the birthday celebration turned girls’ night out – they gave me a gift. A cashmere shawl in dusty rose pink. Beautiful and soft. I loved it.

But sometimes a shawl isn’t just a shawl.

“For when you need a hug,” they told me and in that sentiment expressed so much. We know you are struggling. We want to help. We are here for you.

And they are, always. In my heart, as cherished friends that were brought into my life for a reason and never, for a single day, taken for granted.

Somehow that shawl has made its way into my purse. I wore it somewhere, I guess, and then took it off and put it in my bag. And there it has stayed, as a reminder of affection offered when needed and accepted with love and gratitude.

(Yes, except for mine I chopped off the babies' faces, because they're not my babies' faces to post. But trust me - they are beautiful too.)

Prompt: a show of affection

Filed Under: Happy things · Tagged With: community, gratitude, love

Now You Are Three

June 13, 2011 by Farewell Stranger ·

Dear Connor,

Today you turn three. I can hardly believe it.

I know, that sounds trite. But as I write this on the eve of your birthday – with you asleep next door in your big boy bed (the one you insist on showing every single person who comes into the house, and the same one you never want to sleep in alone at night) – I feel a little bit stunned. Three years!

This is the first photo taken of you when you were born:

Looking back, it tells me so much of what I now know about you. You’re not a huge fan of being taken away from your mama. You know exactly what you think and aren’t afraid to express it. You’re sensitive to your environment, but if you want to be the loud one, nothing can stop you.

As well, the expression on your face is one I’ve seen many a time since:

Something has happened in the last few months. I don’t know when, exactly, but you stopped being a baby. I know you’re not a baby and haven’t been for a while, but until recently I had moments every day where I caught a glimpse of baby in you. Each time I held on tightly, knowing it was a fleeting gift.

I’ve only just realized it, but it doesn’t happen every day anymore. Hardly at all, actually. Even last week when you were sick you didn’t stay stuck to me in the same way you did when you were sick only a couple of months ago. You’re growing up.

And I’m growing up with you. Since I’ve been off work the last couple of months, I’ve been working on getting better and for a long time Daddy was taking care of you. He was doing all the hard stuff that I couldn’t do at the time, like getting up with you in the mornings and trying to get you to eat breakfast, putting you down for naps, doing baths and bedtimes. For a short and very scary time I wondered if I would ever be able to do those things. It seems so silly, but I couldn’t do them. I was too sick and I needed to take care of myself before I could take care of you.

Over the last couple of weeks, though, I’ve started being mom again and doing some of those hard things that used to set me off when you didn’t cooperate. At first I had to talk Daddy into letting me do those things, to let him know it was okay and to assure him that I’d ask for help if I needed it. And we always had back-up. So many people have helped us over the last few weeks – I only wish I could repay them with something other than endless thanks and undying love. We owe Grandma especially for being here at times when I needed someone to do what I couldn’t do with my own child. Sometimes you just need your mom and I’m so grateful for mine. I hope I can always be there for you, for whatever you need, the way she is there for me.

We’re doing well, though, you and I. Which is not to say everything is easy, just that I can handle the hard stuff better now. And my darling boy, sometimes you are a holy terror. I can’t tell you how many times someone in public has commented on what a handful you are. If only they knew. I could do without the screaming fits and the meltdowns over seemingly insignificant things, but I know that’s part of who you are – a passionate, expressive person. (And you get that from me but don’t tell Daddy I acknowledged that.)

The past three years have changed my life in ways I never could have imagined, and for a long time things were so hard I wasn’t sure I’d make it through. I know what happened to me was hard for others as well. Your dad is really annoyed that I didn’t get the help I needed soon enough. In one way I’m sorry too, because it meant he had to deal with a lot of things I wish he hadn’t had to. I can’t change that now, but I do know how much he loves me and I know how much I love him because we’ve been through this together.

Mostly, though, I really don’t resent what I’ve experienced. It was awful – don’t get me wrong – and it’s not over yet. But I’ve learned so much from it – about you, about our family, about myself and about life. I now know just how much love and support we have, and that’s a powerful thing.

My experience with postpartum depression has also taught me that every one of us has something to give. We all have ways of helping someone. Of changing someone’s life, even. A few people have helped change mine, and I hope I can do that for someone else.

I have found new passions and new sources of inspiration that I never would have found if it weren’t for this, and no one can ever take that away from me. This insight is one of the biggest gifts I hope to offer you – to live your life fully, to do what you feel you’re meant to do, and to love and be loved in the process.

I will love you always and forever,
Mama xx

Filed Under: Letters to Connor, Postpartum depression · Tagged With: gratitude, living life, love, my wish for you

Hello, Inspiration – She Believed

June 12, 2011 by Farewell Stranger ·

This philosophy, which I mostly manage to maintain, got me where I am today. And it will take me where I’m going next.

I believe this, and I believe we all can. Do you? What stops you from believing?

Filed Under: Hello, Inspiration · Tagged With: hope, living life

Confessions of a Prenatal Class Graduate

June 11, 2011 by Farewell Stranger ·

I confess: Looking back, I think the prenatal class we took was pretty dumb.

It was one night a week for four weeks (or was it six?) and aside from completely freaking me out about having a c-section (which I ended up having, so I suppose I’m glad I knew ahead of time they strap your arms down) I’m not sure it was very useful.

Image courtesy sweetpeascloth.com

One activity involved planning what we would do in a day with a newborn. The idea was to help parents-to-be understand how much work it is to have a newborn and how hard it is to get anything else done. The class was split – moms on one side, dads/partners on the other. It became a bit of a joke – how often do you have to feed them? How much sleep is reasonable to expect? How many beers can I drink between diaper changes? But of course none of us knew what was reasonable or what to expect. You can’t know until you’re doing it. So overall, not helpful.

Another exercise involved how partners can support moms in late pregnancy and labour. Are some of these things designed to make pregnant women seem totally hormonally messed up? One of the questions was: “What do you do if mom decides she needs to totally overhaul the baby’s room a week before her due date?” Because, you know, you’ve done all that painting and decorating and setting up furniture so it would be insane to change it all because her pregnant self doesn’t like it.

Related aside: Of course my husband, champion that he is, responded, “Say yes,” to this question. I, on the other hand, was much more rational, and wrote, “Look at the room and your options”. And then about, oh, two weeks before Connor was born, I had a total panic that the room wasn’t good enough and bought a bunch of decals that went with his bedding. I thought my artistic husband would freak out – “decals?!” – but he totally went for it and we put them up. Crisis averted.

In any case, thinking about this exercise now it occurs to me that, while I’m sure it’s helpful to understand how you can support your partner while she’s in labour, the prenatal class didn’t focus nearly enough on the actual reality of what happens next.

Looking at our responses to the labour support questions, I think a lot of the strategies involved could actually be applied to supporting a new mom right after birth, and it might have been helpful to mention that.

It doesn’t really matter what the actual questions were (translation: I can’t remember), but here’s what we answered (my answers / Rich’s answers):

sit down & have a drink / distract her
watch a movie or TV / run a bath and light candles
look at the room and the options / say “yes”
sit down / remind her of what she’s learned
call midwife or go for a walk / go for a walk
encourage & give positive feedback / give her a back or foot rub
encourage her, give a back rub / say “yes”
encourage her, hold her hand / encourage her
distract her / practice breathing
get her to sit down and breathe / get her to sit down

Don’t you think these apply to all the ~~totally overwhelming and hard~~ joyful things that happen after you bring your baby home? And coming from the point of view of someone who dealt with PPD, I know I would have been a lot better off if I’d done more of these things.

Do you think it’s too late to ask for a back rub?