I'm an Aunty!

Kaden Calvin and Aunty B

Ok, so an auny again, for the fourth time...but it never gets old.

June 9th...Big Day!

The last somewhat healthy day...bundled up and went for a walk.

So, everyone probably already knows about Deklan, my little sweetheart, and his valiant fight with a liver that eventually crapped out on him. In his few short months here on earth, he taught me so many lessons about myself and my own life. He changed my life in more ways than I could ever explain. Through his fight my eyes were opened in regard to the medical establishment. I saw a lot of things I didn't agree with and I realized there is a huge need for patient advocacy, but in all there are amazing things being done for sick and/or chronically ill children.

That being said, one of the things that struck me the most and has stayed with me since has been the demand for blood products. Over the course of Deklan's life of 4 months and 12 days he needed a total of 119 blood products. His treatments involved dialysis and since he was so small the CRRT machine had to be primed with donor blood. A new circuit (which has to be changed and re primed with fresh blood) was necessary every 4 days. So that in itself requires a lot of blood product. He also suffered from an infection which seemed to eat platelets. At one point he needed to be transfused and there were only 9 units of platelets ready for use in all of Manitoba! For a period of time Deklan stayed on the cancer ward. So I got to see that there was a HUGE need for platelets there as well. Chemotherapy causes a low platelet count, as does a failing liver, which Deklan knew about all too well.

There was a night in Toronto that I almost lost my little sweetheart. He had a superficial wound that in any one of us would have scabbed over and been no big deal. But because of his failing liver his blood was not clotting as it should and he almost bled to death. He would have, had there been no blood to replace what he had lost. He needed volume, man! I sat there as they pushed vial after vial of red blood, platelets, albumin, even Factor VII. THAT BLOOD SAVED MY SON'S LIFE! Sure, he died one short week later, but in that week his siblings had a chance to fly to be with him. His grandparents had a chance to tell him they loved him.

So this is my appeal to everyone...Go give blood! It's something we can all do with minor discomfort. And it is vital in so many treatments. It has been 6 months since I had Deklan's beautiful name etched into my skin. That is the mandatory waiting period for donation after a tattoo. My appointment is June 9th, and I'll be giving my first of hopefully 119 donations that day. Who's in?

If You Don't Have Anything Nice to Say...

Don't say anything at all, right? Well its my blog so I figure I can say whatever I wish. Nice or not so nice. What if the truth is not so nice? In my humble opinion, honesty always is the best policy.

It was brought to my attention by a counsellor that I have very few memories before age 11, the age I was when my parents divorced. Her opinion was that it was because my home life must have been so volatile that I've suppressed my memories as a form of self preservation. So I really can't say what my life was life when Mom and Dad were married. What I do remember is life after Dad left. And it was not fun.

If people ever wondered why my relationship with my mother is strained it is because I feel as if I have no mother at all. She was merely a presence in the house, but never really mothered anyone. Maybe my sisters would tell you different, but I can say truthfully that I was on my own from the time I was 11 years old. My brother was not treated very well at all, perhaps because he was the only boy. But being a kid myself, I didn't see it until later. I wish that there was more I could have done for him. He has turned out to be a fine young man though, so he in some way must have overcome his crappy childhood as well.

There is a school picture of him in a ripped t shirt. And he was just a little guy, grade 2 maybe. Not old enough to be protesting clothing. So its not like he would have refused to wear anything else. But that's the way it was in our house. Just because picture day was coming up was no reason to make sure laundry was done. Or if it was done it was thrown onto a pile on the bed for us to sort through. I learned how to do laundry in grade 6 out of necessity. I remember wanting to wear something nice for my picture day and having nothing clean. I made sure after that I knew how to wash my own clothes. I learned how to make rice out of necessity as well. At one point there was very little food in the house except for a big bag of long grain rice. I remember reading the instructions on the bag. Its not like I was shown how to do it. I learned on my own.

It is very hard to be a preteen and want to have friends over but be too embarrassed because the house is a total mess. And my house gets messy with 5 kids living here and an extra or 2 here and there visiting, but never like my childhood home was. I'm talking animal messes everywhere...even on the stove one time that I remember. Even now I am upset if my house is a mess. I remember the kids making fun of me for how our house looked. Those kinds of things really stick with a person. And the saddest thing was that there was no reason for it. I had a mother who worked outside of the home very little. I cleaned as much as I could, but it is hard to clean up after 5 other people when you're only a kid. Most of the time I kept the door to my room closed and just stayed in there. The cigarette smoke really bothered me, but that was never reason enough to stop smoking in the house.

I remember Mom's friends and boyfriends. She always seemed to be having someone over. I don't remember any outings as a family. I remember the neighborhood kids coming over because Mom was the adult that would go buy booze for them. I remember her going to some class in the city that was funded by the government. There was even money allotted to babysitting. We could have had someone there to help us with our homework or make us a meal, but instead one of Mom's friends signed the forms and we stayed on our own. That was she got to keep the money for herself. We did have babysitters though. When Mom wanted to go out and night. When she got home she and the babysitters would stay up and drink together. Just the other night my sister told us a story about one of her birthdays as a kid. I remembered the story but not that it had been her birthday. That day Mom and one of her friends got drunk and mom decided to cut down a bush with a hatchet and sliced her knee and had to go to the hospital and get stitches. Happy Birthday Honey! If there is one day to be there totally for a child, would it not be their birthday? Our childhood is full of stories like that.

All of these things continue into adulthood. I hear how Mom berates my nephew using the same language she used with my brother. I didn't even have a honeymoon because I had no family to take care of the children for 2 days. I have never even talked about these things with anyone but family until now. My son died of a condition that is passed from mother to child. When you are a middle aged woman and you are plagued with headaches and other mysterious symptoms, and this new discovery of a genetic condition is brought to light, don't you think you'd go and be tested? It could explain everything and help doctors to better manage your health. But no. Does there ever come a point when a relationship with someone who is supposed to be as close as your own mother gets to be too unhealthy to be a part of? I have done everything I feel that I possibly can to help her. But what if someone doesn't want to help themselves? It is too much for me to watch her nonchalantly smoke after doctors have point blank told her it will kill her and she watched her own father die not being able to breath. She has the exact thing he did just way earlier in her life. I have been out at her home weekly for over a month working my tail off to clean up her property. Then on the weekend she gets drunk and just throws stuff on the ground? Even after I asked her not to. I guess its her place. She can do as she pleases. I won't be helping her anymore though. For my own well being I have to cut ties with this woman.

It should not surprise me that once again she put her relationship with a friend over that of her child. Its just too bad that this friend was supposed to be my partner. I got doubly betrayed. Live and learn. If she had confided in me some of the inappropriate things he'd been telling her, I could have confronted him, or ended the relationship sooner. I had even told him very early in our relationship I was uncomfortable with his friendship with my mother. Even now that we are no longer together he calls her. I feel tremendous guilt for letting someone else into our lives, only to have them now gone. All these things only make me stronger. They give me more determination. They make me more protective. More selective. More quick to trust my intuition.

Sad...Just Absolutely Sad

Where is the Fight?

Nothing in my life has been handed to me. I have worked hard and I am pleased with how far I have gotten. There is fight inside me. A drive to succeed. A fierce advocate for my children...that I owe to Deklan, the little sweetheart. Every person who has come in and gone out of my life has taught me something about myself.

Not everyone has this motivation inside of them. I am fiercely loyal and I demand a certain amount of loyalty back. Especially living the life I want, which is going to be full of hard work. I need to know that a potential partner has my back. Someone who will not flounder at the first inkling of adversity. A willing and devoted ally. A loving and like minded companion.

I want to mate for life, so to speak. But in that mate I need certain qualities. Someone strong yet caring. A confidant I can trust. In return he would be paid with love and baked goods! For the meantime I will plug away on my own. I will do the necessary to get closer to my goals. I will not settle.

I owe this renewed determination to you, Globinski. Thanks to your breach of trust I have refined my search. And at least I learned this valuable lesson in 2 short months, unlike the 3 years it took me the last time. Maybe I will never find the one that was meant for me. But at least I know who I am. At least I have the fight in me...

Listen to This!

Myles Black and the Pearly Whites on MySpace Music - Free Streaming MP3s, Pictures & Music Videos

Progress

I realized long ago that I will not be able to live the intentional kind of life I REALLY desire while living in town. Many people do the 'urban homestead' thing and that is great. But I need a few acres to putter around on. I own a home in town, and hope to sell it (as soon as fall, maybe) and buy a hobby type farm. At some point I had to think about just how much I wanted to convert my urban yard. I mean my idea of a fun time may not be someone else's. Not everyone might want a lot of edible landscaping. Should I cement in posts for a clothesline? I don't think Mr. Franklin would care for me having chickens all up in here. I can't, or maybe shouldn't, make all the changes I want to make. So for the time being I'm concentrating on fixing up my place in a way that will appeal to more potential buyers, not just me and all the other hippies.

But...My mom lives on 5 acres. And that land will stay in the family. So I don't mind working on it. It will definitely benefit someone in the long run, if not me, my sisters for sure. And I don't have to worry about pissing anyone off with my off beat ideas cause they're just as crazy as I am.

A couple of weeks ago we cut and pulled up sod the make a garden. Last night I again made the hour long drive to spread moo poo and peat moss and work it into the soil. It is ready to plant! We also took a load of tree branches to the dump. Now for the first time last night we went to the dump and came back with something! I know I know! I always used to wonder what those people were looking for. But what I found was chunks of concrete and bricks. Jackpot! We pulled the sod around the old fire pit that hasn't been used in years. The grass was knee high. Then we put down the concrete in a mosaic type circle with bricks, and stones. It may be homely to some, but to me its perfect. Such a mix of found materials. I can't wait to go have a fire there this weekend. I should have taken a picture.

Getting Mom's property into shape is going to take a long time. It has been neglected for quite a while. But slowly, we are making progress. It is going to take hard work. But that's the thing. When work is split 3 ways and you get to talk and laugh the whole time it doesn't really even feel like work.

Happy Mother's Day!

To all the mothers out there!

In my life there are a real mix of moms. I can see so many different qualities that make them strong. My sister, who would rather play with her kids, and teach them about black holes, but has to work to support her little ones. Seeing the strength it takes for her to leave them, and the guilt she feels having to, makes me a more loving mother. My mother, the hard as nails softy. Hearing her defend her family at the slightest inkling of a threat, makes me more of an advocate for my own children. My grandmother, a woman I have loved dearly and respected all my life, growing older and shakier. I remember the two of us running down the train tracks. She inspires me to run and play with my kids while my body is able.

My friends with children of their own.

My sister, a mother for 11 years and now expecting a baby in 4 short weeks...about to become a new mother all over again.

My children's teachers who leave their own kids to teach mine.

There is another group of moms out there, and they are the ones that my love and thoughts will be with probably most of all tomorrow. They are the moms with no children in tow. They have felt that heart wrenching sting of having their babies taken from them all too soon. They are perhaps the strongest mothers of all.

Zuke and Chip Muffins

What were you doing at 10pm last night? I was making muffins. Getting a head start on today's snacks. It was the first time I used this recipe. I like it because all things considered it has a relatively small amount of oil and sugar. I used organic rice milk and milk less chocolate so the milk allergic little ones in my care could eat them.

1 cup quick oats
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 tbsp baking powder
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/3 cup sugar
1 cup shredded zucchini, packed
2 tbsp cooking oil
1 egg, lightly beaten
3/4 cup milk
1/2 cup chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 400F. Line or spray 12 muffin pan. In a large bowl stir together dry ingredients. Set aside. In a medium bowl combine zucchini, oil, egg and milk. Add wet ingredients to dry, stirring just until moistened. Add in chocolate chips. Spoon batter into the 12 prepared muffin tins and bake for 20 minutes, or until lightly browned.

A Pair Of Shoes

I am wearing a pair of shoes.

They are ugly shoes.

Uncomfortable shoes.

I hate my shoes.

Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair.

Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step.

Yet, I continue to wear them.

I get funny looks wearing these shoes.

They are looks of sympathy.

I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs.

They never talk about my shoes.

To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.

To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them.

But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.

I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes.

There are many pairs in this world.

Some people are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them.

Some have learned how to walk in them so they don't hurt quite as much.

Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by

before they think about how much they hurt.

No one deserves to wear these shoes.

Yet, because of these shoes I am a stronger person.

These shoes have given me the strength to face anything.

They have made me who I am.

I will forever walk in the shoes of a person who has lost a child.

- author unknown