Grace, Faith and Hope

I'm in love. I'm in love with a little, amorphous blob that emerged from me one week ago. She looks so much like her big sister at this stage, it's scary.

Baby Eleanor

Baby Penelope

But this one is a sleepy panda. She eats, poops and sleeps and that suits me just fine.

I went into labour late on Tuesday night. I had woken up that morning and announced that today was the day and sure enough, that's what happened! I laboured at home with my doula from 10:30pm til 2:30am before we made the move to the hospital. Kris had a big meeting in the morning, so I let him sleep until the last minute. He was so confused to find my mum and my doula sitting in the kitchen! We met our midwife at the hospital at 3:00am and things started to get pretty intense, but it was apparent that this baby would be coming sooner rather than later. After an hour, we broke my water, which was shockingly painful and made me curse my midwife - who is lovely and not mean and should never be spoken to in such a manner - and I started to push. Pushing was super scary for me. I remember it being scary with Eleanor, but I had an epidural, so I was a little further removed from the sensations. With this one, I was feeling everything physically and emotionally and it was extremely draining. It felt like hours, but it was only about 30 minutes. I got a bit panicked at one point and bit my doula on the shoulder. Whoops! I think I owe her a tip for that...

But at 4:32am, little Penelope Primrose Goudie entered the world.

I'm not big into virtue names. I could never name my child Valor or Liberty, but I kind of get why people do. Penelope is Greek for "weaver" and it just seems to fit perfectly for this little lady. A weaver takes objects, be it fabric or wicker or whatever, and through an enormous amount of care, talent and inherent ability, transforms these simple objects into something durable, lasting and beautiful.

She's putting us all back together. 

Her middle name is a testament to faith, and no matter how bad the winter, spring will always come. 

I've got love goggles on. All I can see is love. Even when Atia pees in the bathroom and Eleanor pulls my mug of cold tea onto the floor (and all over her, of course) and when I am changing newborn blowout diapers. My heart is full. My cup runeth over. People keep asking about Penelope's blood work and when we will get results. I don't know. And right now, I don't care. I can't see Eleanor as anything but a mischievous 2-year old. I don't see her delays, I don't see her scars, I just see HER - a vibrant, cheeky little girl. And Penelope, well, yeah. How could I possibly see her as any way other than perfect? She is perfect! I left her on the bed to go pee and she started to cry. A familiar sensation of frustration crept up through my bones. Why can't you just let me go to the bathroom? But the instant I lay my eyes on her sweet little face, all those feelings disappeared, and I just love her. It's an incredible thing to just love and watch your love grow right before your eyes.

I've spent the last week sitting on my "perch". I sit on the chaise part of our couch and I nurse my baby and I hold her while she sleeps. I am fighting hard to stay still and stay close. I was able to really honour the "fourth trimester" with Eleanor and I know I won't be able to do the same this time. It makes me a little bit sad that the second child (and all subsequent children) won't get that same undivided attention. So I just get where I can, so to speak. Eleanor has taken to her little sister remarkably well. I was so apprehensive coming home from the hospital. My hormones were raging, as they tend to do 24 hours after birth, and Eleanor was having a nap. Right from the get-go my plans were out the window. I thought I would walk into the house on my own, greet Eleanor and then introduce her to the baby, who would be carried by someone else. So...plan B? Eleanor sleeps, baby sleeps in car seat and Mummy has a complete panic attack. Luckily my doula came over to visit and smoothed everything over (i.e.: told me to stop freaking out and made everything much less monumental and much more ordinary). Eleanor woke up and I got her out of her crib. She wasn't ready to wake up and was pretty cranky. She didn't want me AT ALL. So we allowed her to wake up for a few minutes and then went and woke up the baby. I'll never forget that look on her face - it's like she knew that this was her sister, and not just another baby. It wasn't love at first sight, but it was an understanding. And then she went totally koo-koo for her. She just wanted to hug and kiss her all afternoon. And she hasn't really stopped since!

It's far from perfect, but it feels right. This whole experience has filled me with hope. I'm so glad Eleanor is a big sister. It's a role that fits her really well. I am really happy that Kris and I are parents to two kids. Atia isn't overly thrilled, but her vote doesn't really count anymore as she is grossly outnumbered.

I think she will be okay. I think we will all be okay.

They Say The Best Revenge

Is living well.

 

 

 

We've been doing just that. This last trimester of pregnancy has taken the wind out of my sails, and I have been reluctant to write. I don't want to seem ungrateful - because I'm grateful for every healthy day - but I know I am not myself as of late. Being pregnant is hard work and raising a cancer-fighting toddler is not for the feint of heart. But I get up every morning and put my best foot forward. I feed and clothe my daughter and make sure she is happy, same as any other mother. Kris and I are treading the path back to normalcy, step by step, day by day.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday we received some pretty devastating news. We found out that Eleanor's Li Fraumeni syndrome is NOT an anomaly mutation that occurred only in her. We found out that Kris has it. The geneticist was as stunned as we were. Given his family history of no childhood cancer, they all figured that there was no way he could have it. But he does, and by some grace of God he has reached the age of 40 without getting cancer. Apparently men fair better with this condition because the big nasty cancer that falls under this syndrome is breast cancer. So girls get it worse.

Girls like Eleanor.

And the baby girl I've been gestating for the past nine months.

She's got a 50/50 chance of being a Li Fraumeni baby. When she decides to make her appearance (we are in the "any day now" phase), we will extract some cord blood and send it off the geneticist. They are not great odds, but we are hopeful. Just because Eleanor high-fived death at six-months of age doesn't mean this baby will. And because we now KNOW what we are up against, we can screen and test before things get out of control, like they did with Eleanor. And the same goes for Kris. We will be a regular, cancer-fearing/fighting family.

Except me. I'll be the odd man out. I feel like Marge Simpson in the "Who Shot Mr. Burns" episode of The Simpsons where she emphatically declares that "when I took your father's name, I took everything that went with it, INCLUDING DNA!!!" All jokes aside, I'm silently screaming TAKE ME INSTEAD. Everyone I hold so close to my heart is affected by this. It's a lot to take in, especially in my overly hormonal state, but it's much, much worse for Kris. He's putting on a brave face and is diligently doing his daddy duty and his doggy duty and his crazy-pregnant-lady-punching-bag duty, but he's struggling. I can't pretend to know what it would feel like. He will very likely get cancer soon. He now lives with the burden of knowing something inside him was passed on to Eleanor that made her very sick. That is so messed up.

Genetics are freaky.

But had we known, would we have done anything differently?

Not a chance. We'll take it day by day, and keep growing and keep loving each other.



Loving and living.