Game 4

If you follow my blog, or know me personally, you will know that I am a Toronto Blue Jays fan.  I grew up in a very sporty family, and even got to go to a game (all the way from lil’ ol’ rural Alberta) in 1993, when the last wave of Blue Jay fever was gripping Canadians.

I met my Jays-loving husband in 2004, and we have been to a game or two every year since, and started taking our children to games every Summer since they were tiny babes.  This year, we’ve upped our fanship significantly; we’ve probably watched 50 games on TV and been to five regular season games up close and personal.  Our children both have Blue Jays posters on their bedroom walls, my son can name every player, number, and position, and my four-year-old daughter will happily tell you every pitcher on the roster and how Osuna is mommy’s favourite.  We play backyard baseball in rain or shine, argue over the strike zone at our local ball diamond, and talk Blue Jays over breakfast nearly every day.  Am I painting a picture for you?  You see, we’re all in.

That’s why today is such a special day.

We’re taking our kids to the ALCS Game 4 this afternoon.  And the best part is, they don’t even know it yet; it’s a complete surprise.

It’s quite a surprise to me too, as the possibility of going to this game wasn’t even on our radar until yesterday.  But I don’t work on Tuesday afternoons, and a 4:08pm first pitch works well for families.  “This is our chance to take them to a playoff game,” I texted my husband.  “Let’s do it,” he said.

So, with falling prices on StubHub and a slightly early school pickup, we’ll be there this afternoon.  We’re raising sports fans, and this experience won’t be forgotten by any of us anytime soon.

This is #OurMoment.

 


On October 15th:

It’s October 15th in a few days.  October 15th is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Rememberance Day.  This is a day that’s close to my heart, as I had a devastating miscarriage in 2011.  Prior to that point, miscarriage wasn’t something that had crossed my mind, but I soon learned that it’s very common, very emotional, and very taboo.

I originally wrote ‘Break the Silence‘ in October 2012, and I re-post it annually.  I pour my heart out around this time of year; the purpose being to try to lessen the stigma of miscarriage and the awfulness that surrounds it.  And every year, I have women email me to share their stories of grief and loss.  Sometimes these women are complete strangers who found me through my blog.  Sometimes these women are patients who haven’t told me about their experiences.  Sometimes these women are friends, sometimes good friends….. and most times I have no idea they’ve been through this pain until I receive their email.  This tells me that there is still stigma, there is still silence, there is still suffering, and there is still work to do.

This is my story:

(*originally published on October 9th, 2012)

I struggled to write this post. Really struggled. Not just with the emotion of it all, but with the feelings of vulnerability and complete exposure that this topic brings out in me. But that’s why it needs to be written…..to break the silence, prevent the stigma, and end the taboo surrounding miscarriage.

I had a miscarriage last year. We lost our baby on April 6th, 2011, at 11 weeks and 6 days gestation. One day shy of the magic ’12-weeks-pregnant’ mark where the stats on miscarriage decrease dramatically. I was wrapped up with the excitement of another baby, and we were already envisioning life as a family-of-four. In a cruel twist of irony, we had signed the papers for our bigger-with-an-extra-bedroom-house the weekend prior. I had told friends and family of my pregnancy, even casually mentioned it to acquaintances, and sorted through bins of my maternity clothes. And then it all ended. My miscarriage was very sudden, very graphic, and very traumatic. There was no doubt what was happening to our baby as we rushed to the ER, and as I laid on a triage bed next to my heartbroken husband, the loss overwhelmed me.

Those next few weeks are a haze of tears and despair. My mom flew out to support us, and helped me get through the physical and emotional struggle of the first few days. I ended up with a D&C surgery two weeks later, as I was deemed to have experienced an ‘incomplete miscarriage’. The day following my surgery, I flew to New York City to spend the weekend with my two best friends. And as I reflect on that difficult time in my life, I can see that’s where my heart began to heal. Sister-like friends have that power.

That baby would’ve been due on October 27th, 2011. I was dreading that day on the calendar, which had already been circled in a big red heart when we initially found out I was pregnant. But as October 27th approached, I found myself blessed with another pregnancy; my beloved Casey was born on March 2nd, 2012, only 11 months after the miscarriage. My gratitude for her is exponentially greater after feeling the hopelessness of loss.

There are three things that helped me get through this:

1. A memorial. We carved a cross on a big tree in our favorite walking trails in remembrance of our lost baby. That tree is a source of comfort for me, and a place we visit as a family several times a year. My 3.5-year-old calls it our ‘special tree’. I like to think of it as our ‘healing tree’.

2. Time. While the grief and pain from this experience is not gone, it has lessened. Time heals. And my heart has healed a lot in 18 months.

3. Talking about it. When this happened, I told the details to all of my family and friends. I told my parents and my in-laws. I told my sister-in-laws. I told my girlfriends. Talking about it helped me to process things, but it also helped to break down the stigma. Miscarriage is still a taboo topic, and people don’t know what to say when it happens to someone they know. It will happen to someone you know. Up to 25% of known pregnancies result in miscarriage, 80% of those occurring in the first trimester. Don’t say nothing. Acknowledge the loss. Because saying nothing only perpetuates the silence.

October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Month. On October 15th at 7pm, I will be joining many other people around the world in lighting a candle to remember the babies we’ve lost. And I will be hugging the babies I have, thankful beyond measure.

candle


My Cup Runneth Over

“So, what did you do this weekend?” I often ask my patients on a Monday.  As I’ve mentioned before, I love to hear about what people are up to and what makes them tick; the “people part” is the most enjoyable part of my job.

When patients returned the question back to me, I found myself saying that I had a “low-key weekend.”  “It was quiet,” I’d say, “we didn’t get up to much,” or “there was lots of downtime.”  And yet, when I replay my weekend it was anything but quiet:

  • I ran 18km with one of my best friends at 6:00am on Saturday morning.
  • I worked until 1:00pm on Saturday afternoon.
  • I snuggled with my kids and watched a movie on the couch.
  • We went to our dear friend’s for dinner on Saturday night.
  • We went to church on Sunday morning.
  • We went apple and pumpkin picking on Sunday afternoon.
  • I sorted and purged both kid’s closets, dressers, and bookshelves.
  • We did some Fall planting and yard cleanup.
  • We watched all three Jays games on the edge of our seats.

Throw in some laundry, some food prep, and some housecleaning, and it was a full, busy weekend.  So how is it that I feel so refreshed and rejuvenated?  I think it’s because I love to do all of these things (minus the housecleaning).  Find what you love to do.  Do it.  That’s the trick.  A happy life is built upon time well spent.

My daughter’s Kindergarten class has been talking lately about the concept of “bucket filling” and “bucket dumping.”  Bucket fillers are people (and things) that make you feel good and content, while bucket dumpers are people (and things) that make you feel bad.  She excitedly tells us about the bucket filling tickets she earns at school by cleaning up, helping a friend, and sharing.  She’s proud of those tickets, and she’s learning to be a bucket filler herself and hang around with others who fill her bucket.

My bucket was filled up this weekend.  “My cup runneth over,” I texted my friend after our early Saturday run, and it’s true.  I’m full of gratitude for the life I have, contentment for the life I’ve built, and happiness for the life I live.  I’ve had this image saved on my phone for weeks, and I finally get to use it today:

empty

I hope you get to fill your bucket this Thanksgiving weekend.

***And I hope that Marcus Stroman is a bucket filler for Jays fans when he pitches tonight.