No UFOs in sight

The upside to working on a number of projects at once is that you tend to finish a lot of them at the same time! (And despite this post's title, there are still many unfinished objects in my house, just not in these pictures.)

D's Rainbow cardigan

Striped socks for a dear friend

 I've been buckling down to finish up Frances' mostly-knit garments. The green sweater needed its seams sewn up (sleeves, hem, collar, underarms, sides), and the dress was a bit trickier. I had to deduce the sleeve pattern and needle size, knit a matching sleeve, work up a collar, and seam the whole business together. Both of these need a good little wash and dry, and they'll be ready to go. Three more items still on that list: a yellow cardy, a blue v-neck, and a blue and white vest.

More of Frances' finishing

Frances' finishing strikes again

 I finished my sweater on April 30th, just in time for that early May heat wave we were having. I've been able to wear it once since the weather has cooled off. Not terribly pleased with the buttons, but those are easily replaced.

The completed Blackberry cardigan. New buttons a must.

A fine day for finishing

This past weekend was spent in Toronto, catching up with family and participating in the MS Walk (thanks to little sis Rach for organizing!). The weather was just beautiful, and we spent a lot of time outdoors, including an amazing day at High Park. However, being in Toronto (and getting to and from home) meant that we also spent a lot of time in the car. My brother-in-law Kirk was kind enough to do most of the driving, thus I got a good chunk of knitting time.

The fam at Jamie Bell Adventure Playground in High Park

MS Walk in Downsview

Siblings at dinner on Saturday

On this beautiful day, I'm finishing up a few knits. I just grafted the toe of a sock, and now I'll weave in some ends. Next up is D's rainbow sweater. Her gray one is now impossibly small on her, and when I asked her if she'd like a new one, she said "Yes, a rainbow one." I'll hopefully have time to work on one of Frances' dresses that needs a collar, but first I need to free up the needles that I'm using on D's sweater. Lots of pictures to follow in the days ahead!

I lift my thankful heart: My journey through PPD

This morning, I shared part of my testimony with the women at the weekly Bible study I attend. God graciously but firmly laid it on my heart that this is what I was to share. I've decided to post it here to provide transparency, encouragement and hope. 

“Praise the Lord, my soul

And forget not all his benefits-

Who forgives all your sins

And heals all your diseases

Who redeems your life from the pit

And crowns you with love and compassion,

Who satisfies your desires with good things

So that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.” (Psalm 103:1-5)

This was the part of the Psalm that stood out to me when I read it this past fall; I had been asked to share my testimony as it related to that Scripture. A couple of years ago, my husband and I were asked what the greatest crisis we had faced in our marriage was, and I was hard-pressed to name one. Of course we have our own disagreements and arguments, and we have to handle fatigue and child-rearing and career decisions, among other stressors. It was just that we hadn’t yet dealt with an acute crisis. In 2012, our crisis was upon us. 

On October 27^th, 2011, I gave birth to our second daughter, Maeve Catherine. From the start, she was difficult to soothe, and she was colicky for the first several months of her life. At the same time, I entered the darkest period of my life to date, during which I had postpartum depression.

It came on gradually, as the fatigue of caring for a newborn and a toddler set in. Maeve was prone to screaming fits, so I tended to stay home rather than go out and see people. I got really frustrated really easily and couldn’t dig myself out of my anger. I was irritable and snapped a lot, especially at my children. Other times, I wouldn’t be able to stop crying. I’d have intense mood swings where, in the space of fifteen minutes, I could go from feeling that life was great and only getting better, to feeling like parenthood was a relentless downward spiral. I had certain thoughts that would repeat in my head: “Every day is a little bit worse.” “Maeve is draining the joy from our home.” “No one is coming to help me.” My then-two-year-old, Daphne, started asking me “Mummy, are you happy with me?” My husband knew for sure that something was very wrong when I texted him one night when he was at Bible study, and said that I hated Maeve and wondered if we had made a mistake in having her. 

On a Wednesday morning last winter, I drove to W2W, crying all the way. I checked the girls in to child care (in truth, that was the only reason I had come, to get a break from my kids) and slowly made my way to the gym. Tears were still falling down my face as a friend looked up from her table and rushed over to me. We went into the parents’ room across the hall and I told her about what had been happening. She gently suggested that I go talk to one of the pastors, and Pastor Daniel was free at that time. He was so compassionate and gracious during our meeting, and suggested that I follow up with my family doctor and a Christian counsellor. 

I want to be clear as I explain my journey through PPD: each experience of mental illness is different, and there is no specific set of steps that you can take to guarantee a return to normalcy. In fact, I experienced a recurrence when I thought I was over it, which I’ll speak about in a bit, and I may have further recurrences in the future, as well as an increased likelihood of clinical depression. This is just how it went for me. 

I was blessed in that no one ever suggested to me that my depression was due to weak faith or a lack of prayer. But being the judgmental person that I am, I thought I could “earn” my way out. I read the Bible more consistently than I ever had, I was at church as frequently as ever, and I was even a backup table leader at W2W. Eventually though, I came to realize that my problem was medical and needed to be treated as such. There were many treatment options available, and I hesitantly tried a few: exercise (hard to do in the winter), omega-3 fish oil (gross), keeping my commitments and expectations minimal, and seeking practical help with household chores and child care. Medication was also a possibility, but I was concerned about it getting into my breast milk, and I wasn’t sure how I’d know when I was better and when to stop taking it. Rob could see that my weak attempts weren’t working, and we had a huge fight about it. I tried to explain that I was tired, so tired at the end of the day that I had no energy to put towards fighting depression. I suggested that maybe this is who I was now. He said that if he were in my place, he would do whatever it took to get better. I chalked that up to personality differences. He insisted that this was not me, and begged me to fight. Finally, he said that if I could not or would not fight, he would fight for me. Through his passion to see me get better, I saw the love God has for me.

One of the hardest things for me about PPD is that not everyone gets it, literally. I was used to doing a lot, and doing it well. When I was sidelined by PPD, I wondered what my problem was, why I couldn’t seem to manage my two children when other people were raising as many or more, while keeping a clean house and providing healthy homemade meals (I assumed). Why was I affected by PPD? Why wasn’t everyone? In a room this size, with this many moms in it, I am sure that several women listening have had PPD, or maybe even have it now. To those of you journeying through that dark valley, can I encourage you that the way you feel today is not the way you will feel forever? God can lead you through it, provide healing and restore joy to your life. If you feel like you cannot talk to anyone else about it, please come and talk to me. You wouldn’t believe how many women you know have been where you are today.

God provided for me in so many ways during that dark time. One unusual thing that ended up working for me was acupuncture, and because my dad is an acupuncturist as well as a chiropractor, this treatment was free. My husband was able to take paternity leave to help look after me and the girls. Family also stepped in to give us relief. Friends prayed for us and offered us practical help. By the summer, my depression had subsided significantly. I had been meaning to see a counsellor, but I saw enough improvement to decide against it. I was still very cautious and not willing to declare that I was out of the woods until I was done breastfeeding (by which time my hormones would have settled down more). 

Just after Maeve’s first birthday, I wrote in my journal that I felt like I had my old life back, or at least my old self, adjusted to my new life. I was spending time with friends again rather than avoiding them, and I felt like I had hit my stride in caring for my family and my home (although it is always messy). I was feeling optimistic about the future again. About a month later, I felt myself slipping back into depression. I honestly thought that I had somehow jinxed myself by saying I was better, and this was what I got: regular-type depression. The girls and I had been through the first round of cold and flu bugs of the season, both girls were having behavioural issues, and I was burnt out caring for them. I still had my mom and sister coming around to help on evenings when Rob couldn’t be there. So again, I wondered why I couldn’t handle things. And this time, I didn’t wait for things to get or stay worse before making an appointment with a Christian counsellor. I also cried out to God in prayer, asking him to get me to the other side of this, again. 

The counsellor I met with is one who specializes in PPD. She listened while I talked, and advised that what I had now was probably a continuation of PPD rather than depression or bipolar disorder (which one of my grandmothers has, in addition to PPD in her past). My counsellor told me that onset of PPD can be anywhere in the first year of your baby’s life, and there’s no set time that it lasts. 

These days, I am feeling optimistic again. I’m finished with my acupuncture treatments and counselling for now. I don’t enjoy revisiting the dark times of my depression, but remembering how it felt to lose my mental wellness makes me all the more thankful to have it restored. And to the God who healed my disease, and who redeemed my life from the pit of depression, I lift my thankful heart. 

M's half-birthday by the numbers

It's incredible how much change takes place between a baby's first birthday and the next six months. I was browsing old posts on here and came across my entry for when D was 18 months old, so why not complete one for M as well? As it's meant as a milestone tracker, and not a tool for comparison, I won't include all the same categories.

18: months old today

10: teeth cut so far (all since her first, toothless birthday, and happily for me, all after weaning)

7: months she's been walking

97, 3, and 7: words she can say in English, French, and sign language, respectively.

1: favourite cuddle object, that being a stuffed cat which was appropriated from my parents' house. She wraps one chubby little arm around it whenever we put her in her crib for naps or bedtime.

2-3: the number of stories she likes us to read at bedtime. This is quite a feat. At her first birthday, she was just starting to take an interest in books. We are talking about a child who does not take to sitting still, and yet she will cuddle with Hubby or me in the glider at the end of the day. We truly treasure that time. The books of choice are Night Night Baby; Eyes and Nose, Fingers and Toes; and Baby's Bible Friends.

3: things she hates the most. Being strapped into a carseat/high chair/stroller, allowing me to be alone in the kitchen, and having her hands wiped. All of these elicit screaming fits.

4: number of gates we have to block her from the kitchen, upstairs, or basement.

0: number of siblings we anticipate D and M having anytime soon. I'm quite happy with my two girls, and none too keen to roll the dice on another child!

In closing, let me just say that my dear little M is a terrific kid: active, busy, adventurous, tough, sweet, funny, strong, and uncommonly pretty. I've never met anyone like her, and I love her fiercely.

"Why, thank you for such kind words, Mother."

D pushed her into the bannister; M cried for all of a minute. Tough little broad.

She does sometimes wear clothes

I can't help laughing every time I look at this picture!

Sickly spring Sunday

Poor little M woke up from her nap yesterday with a fever, and spent the rest of the day being cuddled. As sad as it is to see her sick and lethargic, it's kind of nice that's she's still long enough for me to really marvel at her. She fell asleep in my arms this morning, and that hasn't happened since she was a tiny baby! M is what we call uncommonly pretty.

D has been quite the champ today; as disappointing as it is to miss church, we've managed to have a nice enough time languishing around the house. We baked ginger muffins, made some beaded necklaces, and played in the basement with a new-to-us kitchen. Over the past year and a bit, I've been collecting kitchen play things for the girls, and although I found a toy oven at a garage sale last year, the rest of the things weren't much use without an actual (play) kitchen. A friend posted on Facebook that her kids were done with their kitchen, and I messaged her right away; she was incredibly kind and delivered it the next day!

We've been trying to make more use of the basement lately, mostly because it's nice to have a place other than the main floor to keep all the toys! I like to be able to sit down and relax in the living room during the girls' quiet time, and while I am not so fastidious as to be unable to be still in an untidy space, I prefer not to be surrounded by clutter. Now that the kitchen is downstairs, the basement is the place to be.

Today's quiet time knitting: My Blackberry cardigan, sleeves in particular
Audiobook playing: Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand

My curly girl

The other day, I was thinking how cute it would be to curl D's hair; she's three and a half, and she loves playing dress-up, getting her toenails painted, all that jazz. First, I checked if she was interested, and she was. So, the next time we happened to be at Dollarama, we picked up some foam rollers for her hair. I may have overestimated how many we'd need. They come in packs of eight, and I bought five. We barely cracked the second pack.

D is not always the most patient kid when it comes to her hair, so I wanted to put the odds in my favour. I watched a how-to video to get some tips, and then set her up in front of my laptop with an episode of her beloved Madeline. She had wet hair (not washed or conditioned, just wet) from the bath which I blow-dried a little, then I carefully parted it and got to work. Her hair is so much more cooperative when it's a bit damp, I must say. I used eleven rollers in total, being mindful of leaving them loose enough so she could sleep on them comfortably. It took maybe twenty minutes.

This was a very low-risk trial run. I was nervous that she might wake up in the night if the rollers were uncomfortable, or if she tried to change out of her nightgown and got her head stuck (I did warn her against trying this). I figured if she had any trouble, I'd just pull the rollers out. It's not like we were going anywhere in the morning, and we hadn't curled her hair for a special occasion. D slept well and was up at 6:30, earlier than I'd prefer. After breakfast, we took the rollers out, bottom-to-top, and I finger-combed the curls out. Her hair is cut straight across, and the lack of layers made it easy to curl the hair, but with a result of extreme sideways volume. She wouldn't let me pin pieces back from her face, but later in the day she compromised with a ponytail.

For the first little while, she was running and bouncing around, presumably because she liked the feeling of the curls. She enjoyed the results enough that she's going to let me do her hair like this for Easter Sunday.

That is a lot of hair!

Super pleased with her bouncy curls

M gets in on the fanciness

Partying like it's 7:39 am

Resurrection Eggs

In an effort to keep our Easter celebrations related to Christ's death and resurrection, we're attempting something new this year. New to us, anyway. There are many variations on this activity, as I discovered when I searched the relevant terms to find out what to put in the eggs. The basic idea is that, for the 8-12 days leading up to Easter, you open an egg with your kids, and inside it is a small object representing some aspect of the Easter story, along with a Bible verse relating to it. I tried to use as many items as I could from around the house, and the remainder came from Dollarama. As for the eggs, I bought them on sale post-Easter last year. We opened the first one after dinner today, and appropriately enough, D had coloured a picture of the Triumphal Entry today that she got from Sunday school. Or Wednesday school, I guess, since it's from the child care for my ladies' Bible study today.

Day 1-Leaf [from Dollarama rose]: John 12:13 “They took palm branches and went out to meet him, shouting, “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the King of Israel!”

Day 2-Silver coins: Matthew 26: 14-15 “Then one of the twelve disciples, named Judas Iscariot, went to the chief priests and asked, “What will you give me if I betray Jesus to you?” They counted out thirty silver coins and gave them to him.”

Day 3-Bread [piece of cracker]: Matthew 26:26 “While they were eating Jesus took a piece of bread, gave a prayer of thanks, broke it, and gave it to His disciples. “Take and eat it,” He said, “This is My body.”

Day 4-String [yarn tied like a scourge]: Mark 15:15 “Pilate wanted to please the crowd, so he set Barabbas free for them. Then he had Jesus whipped and handed Him over to be crucified.” 

Day 5-Thorns [also from Dollarama rose]: Mathew 27:29 “Then they made a crown out of thorny branches and placed it on His head, and put a stick on His right hand; then they knelt before Him and made fun of Him. “Long live the King, of the Jews!” they said.”

Day 6-Purple cloth [a small snippet from a bigger corduroy piece]: Mark 15:17 “They put a purple robe on Jesus…”

Day 7-Cross [made from toothpicks]: John 19:17-18a “He went out, carrying His cross, and came to “The Place of the Skull,” as it is called. (In Hebrew it is called “Golgotha.”) There they crucified Him.”

Day 8- Sponge [a piece cut from a bigger sponge]: Matthew 27:48 “One of them ran up at once, took a sponge, soaked it in cheap wine, put it on the end of a stick, and tried to make Him drink it.”

Day 9-Rock: Matthew 27:59-60 “Joseph took the body, wrapped it in a new linen sheet, and placed it in his own new tomb, which he had just recently dug out of solid rock. Then he rolled a large stone across the entrance to the tomb and went away.”

Day 10-Nails [a couple of Hubby's finishing nails]: John 20:25b “Thomas said to them, “Unless I see the scars of the nails in His hands and put my finger on those scars and my hand in His side, I will not believe.”

Day 11-Spices [peppercorns]: Mark 16:1 “When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so that they might go to anoint Jesus’ body.”

Day 12-Empty: Matthew 28:6 “He is not here. He has risen just as He said.”