As new moms, we are constantly worrying about keeping our families safe. Too often, we don’t think about hidden dangers, like identity theft, that could jeopardize the security of our futures. Several weeks ago my sister had a purse stolen out of her car, which had several credit cards and her social security card inside.  It got me to thinking about what issues she might have to deal with in the future because of it… and the things she could have done to prevent it from happening in the first place.

I began some searches online and came across a new site where people post their own personal experiences with identity theft. Reading some of the entries, it became quickly obvious how easily someone can get your information and cause a lot of damage to your financial future. Often, the thefts began with a simple mistake such as someone leaving a purse or wallet unattended. The stories made me think about all the times I have set my diaper bag down (with wallet inside) while I tended to my son. Reading these blog articles really made me stop and think about what my actions can lead to. I know I will be more proactive about watching my belongings when I am out with the baby from now on.

To check out some of the articles, visit the blog at http://www.identitytheftchat.com
I especially enjoyed reading about the experience shared at http://www.identitytheftchat.com/2009/06/butter-sugar-and-identity-theft/

Check it out!

I believe that a household should run like any strong organization. As such, I’m the self-appointed CEO and my husband, Simon is my staff. He receives periodic performance reviews, which are generally corrective and don’t involve bonuses. When friends call to see if Simon can play golf or racquetball, I remind them that his hobbies include taking out the garbage and dropping someone off at soccer practice. I even provide him with annual “staff appreciation days”, namely his birthday and Father’s Day.

Sometimes he thinks our positions are not entirely fair because I’m not the traditional stay-at-home mom. I own a business, attend networking events, and generally don’t concern myself with the things that extremely competent homemakers do. It would be fair to say that my children’s dinners involve either or both the freezer and microwave, and that bed sheets get changed only when there is vomit or urine on them. But, every organization needs a boss and to compare our work hours, I am the only reasonable choice. 

When I had my first child, Mack, I was overwhelmed with how much I loved him. So overwhelmed that I became the expert on all things Mack. This quickly transformed me into the “Naggin’ Dragon”, constantly giving Simon advice and tips on what to do with, for, and to Mack. I recognized that the “Naggin’ Dragon” had no place in our happy home and needed reigning in.

When my daughter arrived the next year, I set some strict yet reasonable parameters on what I would allow myself to comment on. I would now only comment if Simon’s actions or choices were going to affect the children’s health and safety, wellness, and / or general happiness.

What I soon discovered was that these parameters were far too narrow since they did not include how he dressed the children. So there I was, my children dressed in stripes going both ways and I was stranded, unable to comment on Simon’s wardrobe choice. Sometimes he would have one child dressed for the middle of winter, and the other dressed for the middle of summer. Couldn’t he see that one of them was hot or one of them was cold? And there I was, silent.

As a means of avoiding this situation and generally not wanting my kids to look like idiots, I figured out a foolproof solution. I would lay their clothes out, which had the added bonus of looking like I was being helpful. I was shocked to return home one morning to discover my two-year-old son in my one-year-old daughter’s outfit and vice versa. My son looked like he was about to head off to gay Mardi Gras.

Since then, we have had three more babies so now have a hectic household of five children between the ages of seven months and seven years old. To the outside observer, our busy home seems to run like a well-oiled machine. Laughter echoes from the backyard trampoline and playful cries of “Marco Polo” can be heard from the salt-water pool. If you are able to tune out the tattle-tailing and teasing, you can enjoy listening to the kiddie conversations between these little best friends who are lucky enough to be siblings. And while it is predominantly a happy chaos in suburbia, it is chaos nonetheless so the need for a strong CEO is greater than ever.

But at the end of the day (if it ends), we moms have to remind ourselves that how our staff dresses the kids just doesn’t matter. OK, so maybe their instincts aren’t always so hot and maybe multi-tasking isn’t their strong suit, but, when I watch Simon playing and loving our kids I kind of forget about all that and think about giving him a raise.

** Julie Cole LL.B, M.A,  is one of the founding mompreneurs of Mabel’s Labels Inc. (www.mabel.ca) and the mother of five children.

I heard the expression, “There is one beautiful baby in the world and every mother has it,” but I really did have it. That is until things began to be not-so-perfect and, long story short, my “number one son” ended up with a diagnosis of autism. There began the life I didn’t bargained for!

My parenting philosophy changed entirely when we got our autism diagnosis. I always imagined myself as a mother who would push for my “number one son’s” individualism; supporting any direction his nature takes him. Now, I work hard to make him just like every other kid. He has things like Transformers, Pokeman and Sponge Bob shoved down his throat in hopes that it will help him connect with his peers. When we walk through ‘Toys R Us,’ I watch what other six-year-old boys are begging their mothers for. When they drop to the ground in a temper tantrum, I step over their kicking feet to reach for that very item for “number one son.” If that is what typical six-year-old boys desperately want, then that is what my boy shall have.

Four years of undergraduate study, a two year Master’s degree, three years of Law School and a year of Law Articles - I imagined these credentials would land me a hot job on Bay Street. Picture me: swanky suit, power lunches, lipstick dabbled to perfection, BlackBerry reminding me, minute by minute, of how important I am. Just look at me in those Manolo Blahnik heels, cute and clever, heading into court!

Reality check: I just had my fifth baby and my eldest, who recently turned seven, has autism. My lifestyle standards went through a slight adjustment. Now my measure of a successful day is if I get through it without smelling like baby pee or toddler puke.The vision of Manolo Blahniks has transformed into the reality of fuzzy bunny slippers.

It did not take me long to realize that a legal career does not particularly accommodate women with small children, especially children with special needs. This is not to say that I don’t use my fine tuned legal skills on a daily basis, the definitions have just altered. “Advocacy” now involves being an expert on School Board policy. I know what rights the Education Act provides. I write to Members of Parliament, I protest in the rain,on the front lawn of Queens Park, for autism funding. And let me tell you, my skills in “negotiation” are constantly put to the test in my daily life with five children!

There’s a fantastic poem* that compares having a child to planning a trip to Italy. You and all your friends are going there so you buy all the gear for your trip, learn some Italian and plan to check out the Coliseum. Everyone is going to the same place and seeing the same things. Then you have a child with a disability. You didn’t land in Italy with all your friends. You are in Holland. You have to learn a different language, become part of a different culture and meet different people. But once you get used to Holland, you see that there are tulips, windmills and Rembrandts. It’s not where you wanted to go, but you are there and it’s not so bad.

When we have kids, there are no guarantees. I am not on Bay Street, but in Holland. “Number one son” brought us to Holland and it is a place we now love because we are there with him. It’s not as glamorous as Rome, but we wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

*”Welcome to Holland” by Emily Pearl Kingsley

Julie Cole, LL.B, M.A. is one of the founding mompreneurs of Mabel’s Labels and the mother of five children

 

A contraction woke me up at 5:30am on Friday, January 4th, 2008 (I was exactly 39 weeks along). This one felt pretty powerful already and I needed to breathe and moan through it. Casey woke up and was listening to me and we were both wondering what was in store for us today. Contractions continued for the next hour every 5-8 minutes and were powerful ones. Since I was already moaning through them, and having to move my body to get comfortable each time, we were wondering if “this was it”.

With both my other labors, my water broke at the start of labor before contractions began. So this was new to me, to labor a bit with waters intact. At around 6:30am Casey suggested I take a shower. I wasn’t quite ready to do that, but wanted him to, just in case he would go in to work and the day would move forward like a regular day. As he was showering my contractions continued and I think it was then that I knew that he wouldn’t be going into work. I decided to hop in the shower too…and see what happened to my labor with that change. The shower felt wonderful, I loved putting my whole face in the water and blowing raspberries under the water…it felt really good. My contractions came closer together and grew in intensity while in the shower. I was feeling everything very far down and low, it seemed as if there was this huge weight in my pubis. I had wondered if my waters would break this time, since they did with both other labors, and thought I had better get out of the shower so if my water did break, I would be able to tell. I got of the shower in between contractions, grabbed a towel and sat on the toilet seat when another contraction came on. With that one, my water broke. It was now 6:30am. We called Fran, our midwife, to let her know our water had broken. With my last labor, my water broke and a short 3 hours later Luna was born. So, we decided together that she needed to be called right when that happened to make her way from Lawrence…a good 1 hour drive from her house to ours.

After that I called all my birth team (family, doula and friends) and alerted them so they could be at our house when we needed them. Tevan and Luna, our older boys, were still sleeping…bizarre, as they are usually awake and are moving by 6:30 or 7am. It wasn’t long until they were awake too, a little after 7. We both went downstairs lumbering our birth kit down too and we labored some in the sunroom. The boys awoke and Casey got breakfast going for them. Luna, our 3 year old, wandered over and looked at me with mystery as I had a contraction and moaned my way through it sounding like more of an animal than his mom. Casey came over and looked at Luna and Tevan, as he hugged me, and said, “Isn’t this exciting, mommy is having labor and that means our baby is coming soon!” Luna’s eyes immediately changed to eyes of wonder and he said, “Yeah!” while he looked at me and giggled. Tevan, our 5 1/2 year old, was there for the birth of Luna, and remembers what noises labor entails and so he knew and was already excited. We had prepared both boys for being a part of this labor and birth for a long time, by reading books about childbirth, watching all the birth videos together that we show in our classes (we are Certified Childbirth Educators in The Bradley Method of Childbirth) and sharing the most amazing hardcover book about a homebirth, Welcome With Love.

My contractions were continuing to be about 4-5 minutes apart and they were demanding my attention. My moaning really helped me through it. I asked Casey to bring up the birth ball from downstairs, and using that was really nice. I sat on the couch and then as a contraction came on I leaned over onto the ball and just melted into the ball and rocked away. The boys were up at the table eating their breakfast of fruit, yogurt and granola while Casey would massage me as a contraction came on.

We were hoping Fran, our midwife, would arrive soon. Then we saw her cute green car appear. “Ahhhh”, a sigh of relief waved over me with seeing her pull into our driveway. She came in, and I couldn’t say hello since a contraction was waving over me - and more moans. Fran set her things down and came over and immediately encouraged me with loving words and caress. I remember Fran saying to me, “WOW! We are very far along here, I can tell just by listening to you and looking at you.” (Fran never gave me a vaginal exam the entire time, which is how I wanted it, and isn’t it amazing that babies come out and labor still progresses without a vaginal exam! *laugh*) “Where is everyone else?” Fran asked. (meaning our birth team) I told her we were waiting for her to get there before we made any calls. She said, “Well get going…it’s time, we got to get that birthing pool set up and need help doing it.” So Casey began the phone-tree to my mom & dad, sister, my good friend, Kari and Kristy. And soon everyone starting coming in.

Dad walked in with his bundle of firewood to make a fire in our old fashioned wood-burning stove, like we’d talked about. Then he got directed to start pumping up the pool. A few minutes into it they realized the pool wasn’t blowing up, since it should only take a couple of minutes to inflate. Fran came over to inspect and then it was decided that we forgo the birthing pool, since it would take more than an hour to fill the pool with warm water, and Fran knew (by her wondrous wisdom) that we didn’t have that long until this baby would come. She came over to me and said, “Okay, second choice for you to give birth in?” And I said, “No I want the birthing pool!” And she then explained to me the situation. I remember feeling oddly doubtful and excited that she thought I was *that* close to giving birth. And then I said, “my own tub!” So my bathtub was filled up and I couldn’t wait to get in! Each contraction was feeling lower and heavier and I sooo needed that water! It couldn’t have been filled up sooner, and I threw off my shirt and lumbered over there (in between contractions) and got in. Ahhhhh…. warm water…. my dream. Yes, this was nice…this was what I needed.

Another contraction…so low…so very heavy. It felt like there was a bowling ball visibly in-between my legs already, yet there wasn’t. Contractions were now coming every couple minutes it felt like, though we weren’t literally writing them down since things were happening so fast. And each time I had one, it felt so heavy in-between my legs. It was overwhelming, so all-consuming, and this I knew meant we were very close. At this point everyone was here, all squeezed into our little house’s bathroom. It gave me great strength to see all of them and hear all of them. 

This was when my needs felt urgent. At one point I wanted a cold washcloth all over my face, and Casey had been putting it just over my forehead during contractions. During the next contraction, I needed it on my face. And I said, “My whole face! My whole face!” Casey started wiping it around my whole face, which was NOT what I wanted. So I said again, urgently, “My whole face!” Finally, he spread out the washcloth and just set it on my face. Which was exactly what I wanted. It’s funny how during late labor our needs become very urgent and also how dumb we laboring women become. And by dumb, I mean, how we can’t seem to intellectually explain what we mean, we almost become one-worded, or cave-man-like. Bless Casey’s heart, he is such a wonderful coach, and just giggled his way through that one. So now with each contraction Casey would be stroking my upper back down to my hips and I would sit asymmetrically in the tub, lean over the edge and rock my head and moan.

I remember at this point getting my typical transitional worry. I sort of get shaky and worried and scared. This time I needed to hold someone’s hand, and I wanted it to be Fran’s. I said, “Fran, I need you. I need you to hold me. Hold my hand Fran.” And of course she did. She held me and said, “It’s going to be okay, your baby will come, breathe the baby down, Summer, breathe the baby down.”" Here is my transitional head talking now, I said, “Is it? Is it going to be okay? I don’t think the baby is going to come.” She repeated her encouraging words again to me. I starting breathing the baby down, while chanting our name for the baby, “Ziah, I want to meet you”, in a very shaky voice. And then everyone in the room started saying, “Ziah” all in a chant-like form. It was really neat.

Then not long after that with a contraction my body said, “UGH” as everything pushed downward and low, the heaviest ever. That was when I knew this baby was coming and now was the pushing time, my favorite part! Right after I said “UGH” I remember hearing Fran say, “Good girl, that’s it” and everyone else in the room saying, “All right, you are doing great”. That was so very encouraging. It was at this point when Casey said, “Summer now blow some raspberries” What a good idea, that’s my man the rock star coach! We had both talked (prior to labor) how we wanted to try letting my uterus do all the pushing itself and to help that by only breathing and blowing raspberries during the pushing stage. So that’s what I did. I breathed and blew some raspberries and then I felt some serious stinging, a clear indication that Ziah was crowning. So I blew some more raspberries.

At this point, Fran wanted to make sure that I remained “intact” and without a tear, so she applied perineal pressure. That’s when she found that Ziah’s head was presenting along with his fist smack up against his cheekbone! She started trying to push his fist back inside so only his head would come out, and I knew that only by feeling it. When she started to do that, something felt wrong and I quickly and instinctively pushed her hand away and said, “What are you doing, STOP that!” She apologized and explained what she was doing, and I told her that it felt worse when she did that, so to leave it be and he’ll come out how he wants. She understood and we kept going.

With the next contraction Ziah’s head and fist came out under the water! Then Casey hopped into the tub (fully clothed) and lifted me up out of the water to a full standing position and with the next contraction out slipped the rest of Ziah’s body! It was 9:27am and our third baby boy was here! All 8 pounds 9 ounces of him! I sat back down in the tub and snuggled him and cried and we were all filled with wonder and amazement at the accomplishment of our first homebirth!

Ziah Storm was covered in vernix and we rubbed that “good stuff” right back into his body. Casey and I were thrilled! Luna came over and saw the umbilical cord and wanted to touch it. So his little hand reached down into the water and touched it and I’ll always remember how his face lit up with amazement. Tevan was so thrilled by the experience he was already rambling off about when they all grow up how they will share a room with a triple bunk bed and what level each of them would sleep. It was the most amazing experience to have a homebirth. It was so perfectly what we wanted and needed. It was so wonderful to have the intimacy and comfort in our own home and how great to be able to give birth and then just walk over to my couch and rest with my newest baby boy! Now it seems to me that there is just no other way to give birth other than at home!

Or, as Tevan says to me now, why have a baby in a hospital, that is for sick people and there are so many germs there…babies are supposed to be born at home! That’s my boy, 5 1/2 and already an activist!

Summer Hill,
A local mom

It seems fitting that I should be writing this on James 6 month birthday. I want to tell you a little bit about my experience, because I want you to understand that although breastfeeding is hard, you can overcome obstacles!

I planned to breastfeed and I read a great book by Martha Sears on the subject. My mother had breastfed, as had my aunts, so I figured I was coming into a pro-breastfeeding family. Despite this I heard a lot of negative comments about breastfeeding not working out or not making enough milk. I think these comments solidified my desire to breastfeed - I like to prove people wrong!

My pregnancy wasn’t awful - bad morning sickness and swelling, but nothing out of the ordinary.

I was 38 weeks pregnant and went for my weekly appointment and my blood pressure had shot up dangerously high. They tried to induce with cervadil and pitocin and although I had contractions, James never descended and I didn’t progress at all. So, after about 30 hours of that, they came in and recommended a c-section. They said they could try to keep inducing but that I could do permanent damage to my heart and that they didn’t think it would work.

Now as I look back, the nurses and doctor spent maybe an hour in my room. They only checked my progress when I asked about it finally. They didn’t check the cervadil until they went to take it our, 12 hours later, and it had come out at some point during that 12 hours - hmmm, maybe that’s why it didn’t work. I honestly questioned whether I was induced correctly.

I’m telling you this because my induction affected my breastfeeding. At first the nurses weren’t concerned that my milk was delayed. I wasn’t worried - I had read that it could take up to a week to come in. We kept the baby in the room with us and attempted to breastfeed, but something seemed wrong to me. I asked the lactation consultant to come help, she came in for a few minutes, said things looked fine, and left. Another nurse came in and said I had inverted nipples (which I don’t), gave me a nipple shield and roughly handled my breast and the baby. Meanwhile, James was losing weight and there was no milk. The nurses started pushing formula - and I mean pushing. I knew from my books that this could prevent my milk from coming in. I was very against supplementing for this reason because I was determined to breastfeed.

We were in the hospital for four days and it was not a relaxing experience. I don’t know if I would have made it without the support of my dear husband and my close friend, who had breastfed her 2 sons.

On the 3rd day, a nurse came in and told me I would have to supplement when the doctor came in that day. I was beside myself. I felt like a failure - first a c-section and then not being able to breastfeed. She cheerfully asked if I wanted the formula now and I sent her away. My husband had been out of the room and came back to find me in tears. That was when I called my friend at 7am. She rushed up with nursing books and moral support and suggested I call a lactation consultant that she had heard about. I remembered my hairdresser also raving about this LC, so when my friend left I called her. Unfortunately, since she ran a private practice, she wasn’t allowed in the hospital. She gave me great advice over the phone (such as “ask for a pump” - a thought which hadn’t occurred to me) and called to check on me throughout my stay.

Despite being told we would have to supplement by the nurses, the pediatrician just asked that we give James some pedialyte to make sure he stayed hydrated. My husband read up on finger feeding and we mixed the colostrum I pumped with it and he fed it to James.

The next day I was excited to go home. I got up, got dressed and while James was being checked in the nursery, I went and got my husband breakfast at the cafeteria. On the way back, the pediatrician stopped me and told me he would like us to wait until evening rounds to be discharged. I was disappointed but I was scared when I watched him walk over to the nurse and tell her that I would be going home but maybe not baby. I went back to my room and cried. My husband woke up. I told him what happened and we decided at that point to do anything to get out of there. So, we gave James formula mixed with colostrum. It was enough to satisfy the doctors/nurses and they packed a bag of formula and let me go home.

I have never been so excited to leave a place before. The nurse came in, helped my husband get James in the carseat, and then she carried him to our car. Mind you, she took off with my baby and my husband had to rush to catch up with her. Meanwhile, I had to waddle behind about 50 feet. I guess not everyone gets wheeled out or even gets to leave WITH their baby.

My milk came in as soon as I got home. I never had to give James more that the ounce of formula at the hospital. The stress of the hospital, the erratic pain meds (we had to hunt someone down every 4-6 hours for my pain relief), the fluid retention, and pitocin had contributed to the delay. The next day we took James to the lactation consultant I had spoken with on the phone. I related my story and she spent an hour helping us. She showed my husband how to help me with latch and worked on feeding positions with me. After a feeding with her, we weighed James and his weight had gone up! She refused to charge us. I visit her often. She is the warmest, most generous person I know.

Breastfeeding the first week was hard due to latch, but thanks to my husband we corrected it! For the first month it was all I did. I know I was labeled a difficult patient and I know I’m stubborn, but the first piece of advice I offer you is this:

BREASTFEEDING IS A CONFIDENCE GAME. Believe in yourself, set up a support structure, and listen to your gut.

Jen
(A local mom)

Isabel
Born August 13, 2007!

My birth story is not what I thought would have happened. I guess you can try to plan but I believe things are going to happen the way they are meant to whether you want it that way or not.

So here it is: My water broke at 1:15am on Monday, August 13th. I was told to not worry about rushing to the hospital until my contractions became more consistent. I experienced some mild contractions, but nothing major. At 8:30am I called my doctors office to ask them when I should come in, even with my contractions being inconsistent. They like to deliver the baby within 24 hours of your water breaking, so they told me to go ahead and come to the hospital.

We arrived at the hospital at 9:30am, they confirmed my water actually broke and started me on Pitossin to induce labor and make contractions more regular. So I handled the contractions pretty well for the most part. They started to become harder and closer together around 3:00pm. They were 2-3 minutes apart and I was 3-4 cm dilated. The Dr predicted, I would have the baby around 9:00pm.

At this point the contractions were getting unbearable so I finally asked for the epidural. I wished I would have asked for it sooner because I did not get it until around 4:00pm. Let me say relief. I was numb and felt no contractions. I took an hour nap and rested up.

This is when the story gets rough. I woke up from my nap able to feel my legs. I informed the nurse and she told me that depending on the epidural that was normal. So I thought, “Okay. If I am not feeling the contractions then it must be working.” She left the room and five minutes later I had horrible back pain and started to feel my contractions. The nurse contacted the anesthesiologist to give me more meds. It still did not work.

At this point, the Dr. went into another surgery so I could not get more meds or a new epidural. Let me tell you pain. Contractions were coming within 30 seconds and hard. Intense back pain. At 6:00pm, I was 9 cm and almost ready to go. The nurse paged the on call doctor and informed me that I would probably have the baby in the next 20 minutes.

The doctor did not show up until about 7:20pm. By the time he walked in the door, he was putting on his scrubs and the baby’s head just popped out. I finished the delivery and she was a healthy baby. I cannot tell you the intense pain and pressure I felt. I had no medication and delivered her au natural. I can’t believe I did it, but you have no choice when it gets to that point.

I know this was long but I left out a lot of details also. Although this was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, my new baby girl was worth it. Although it was hard and painful, I feel like a stronger woman now. Isabel was born 6 lbs 6 ounces and 19 inches long. She is absolutely beautiful. The way I see it, I’m sure labor is nothing compared to what I might have to endure in motherhood.

I was the 4th of 9 children and at 35 years old am getting ready to give birth to my 9th child.

For our 10th wedding anniversary I was absolutely insistent that I get some sort of jewelry to mark all that I’ve done and all I’ve gone through with pregnancies and labors and raising of all the children.

I remember bringing it up to my husband and saying “I deserve this! Look at all I’ve done for you in the past 10 years!” He looked at me and said, “I have given you 8 beautiful children. That is the gift of gifts!”

I was incensed! What did he mean by that?!! I DESERVED a very expensive gift. I couldn’t believe how insensitive he was being! I packed up the kids and went to the store and bought myself a tenth anniversary ring.

I thought it would be the topping on my cake. I thought it would bring me all the happiness that I hadn’t found yet. I looked at it for a long time. I polished it and showed it to everyone! This was supposed to be what I had waited for for 10 years!

I realized quite quickly after having had that ring for a few days: The ring did not have a tiny velvety ear for me to snuggle my nose behind so I could fill my lungs with that wonderful baby smell. It did not need me to get up and hold in in the middle of the night and there certainly was no tiny voice coming from it saying “I lub you mommy.”

My husband was right. There is no gift or possession in the world that can begin to give you the same joy as a babies do!

Bridget
(A Local Mom)