self care

Life. What a journey it is. What a series of mistakes, lessons, triumphs and failures it all is. 

Recently I was talking with my very old and dear friend, Liz. We don't talk often, but when we do, it's like no time has passed. I've known her since I was 10. 

I was telling her about how I have finally (after 7 years of motherhood), come to a point, where I see it absolutely necessary to take care of myself, so that I can be a better mom. 7 years it's taken me. Geeze. 

It's so simple,yet, for some reason I had been fighting it. I never once thought down of mamas who put their needs before their kids, but I just didn't see the value of it. Now I do. It's not selfish. It's friggen essential. 

If I don't eat well, I'm likely going to yell and be super hangry around my kids. If I don't sleep well, yup- cranky and grumpy. If I don't exercise, then I'm tired and have low energy. These are the physical needs. But I am also seeing a very important need to nurture my spiritual side too. Walking, meditating, journalling my gratitudes, breathing, yoga. These are the outlets that allow me to identify and acknowledge my feelings. 

...

Small Steps ~

...

I find it so helpful at the end of the day to look at where things went right and/or wrong, to see what I can do to improve it, and then to let it go. 

I also have been trying to take a few quiet moments before my feet hit the floor, to set some intentions for the day. Things like, practice love to myself and my family. Practice patience. Or, just breathe. It's a practice and something that I am always going to be working on, but it feels nice to have the tools to help myself. 

Happy LOVE month. May we all remember to love ourselves, so that we have enough love to give to others. 

beyond words and pictures

When I was a little girl, one of my most favourite things to do was to go for a hike in the Gatineaus during the Fall. Each year, for my birthday party, I would ask that we all drive up to the Gatineaus and go for a hike. I remember then, just as I do now, being so at peace and at home, amongst the bright and firey maples, the soft scented pines, and the babbling brooks. I loved to be immersed in Fall!
The one issue I had with these special hikes, were just how infrequent they were (only on weekends, my parents worked during the week), and how far the Gatineaus were. The drive was upwards of an hour. If I had my way, I bet I would've gone daily if I could.
Now, fast forward nearly 25 years, and here I am, in likely, the most beautiful spot in the country to celebrate and experience Fall.
I've tried to write about just how spectacular Fall is here in the Valley, but I feel my words fall short in doing it justice. I've also tried taking pictures, to capture the colours and bounty, but even my pictures don't amount to the real beauty. Instead I just walk and breathe, and let myself experience it.
Last week, after the kids got home from school, I decided that we all needed to take a walk in the woods. I wanted to take them far, not just the trail that backs our subdivision, but really deep into the woods. I was worried that they would get tired and bored, but we all just kept going ... with the hope of discovering something special.
Katia found a great walking stick, Noah and his friend who came along, threw rocks and picked up sticks... and then we all stopped.
Shhhhhhhh, you guys, look! There, up in the tree. Hold still guys, it's an owl.
And there it was. A beautiful Barred Owl, just starring down at us, following us with it's head.
We all stood there, just watching, knowing that this was special and that we were in the right place at the right time.
The Fall has brought such lovely memories for us all. My birthday (we went to see Beauty and the Beast), a big trip to the Yukon for Wesley and I, family visiting for Thanksgiving, Autumn excursions to apple orchards and corn mazes, and many beautiful Fall photo sessions.
It's a busy time, and I don't always make writing a priority. Instead, I am focusing on being present and enjoying the moments as they come.
Some pictures from Thanksgiving and the Yukon.
xox

date night

Date night. Because life is busy. Because we often can't have a conversation without being interrupted by the three little humans in our household. Because we've been stressed and tired. Because we deserve it. Because it makes us nicer to each other. Because we love each other.
Saturday night was date night at home. It lasted just over an hour and a half, and we were able to fit in appies, wine, and two board games. Hey, you gotta be quick and efficient when the baby might wake at any given moment. On the menu: stuffed mushrooms, bruschetta, Blow Me Down Blomidon wine.
It was nice. It felt really good to just be together, and to be intentional with our time and focus. (phones put away ... ok, maybe I took a pic on my phone). It was just what we needed.
xox

Wesley Birch

I'm listening to a piano Christmas station, while we finally have the snow I've been wishing for. The older kids are out playing in the snow with Winslow and Grandpa, and I am sitting in my cozy bedroom, looking out at the snow covered backyard. Dreamy. And here I sit, almost 2 weeks into life with this absolutely sweet little being nestled on my chest, and I am finally finding the time to write about his coming into the world.
Life with little Wesley Birch has so far been a joy. Perhaps it's the knowledge in the back of my mind that he is our last baby, or perhaps it's already having two previous baby notches on my mama belt, but for some reason, I am just enjoying this period and am wishing for time to slow down.
First I want to start off with the story of Wesley's name. For years, both Winslow and I loved the name Wesley. If Katia had been a boy, her name would have been Wesley, so it was definitely a front runner for a boy's name for us. It wasn't until I was pregnant this time around, that I looked up the meaning of his name, and was pleasantly surprised. The meaning of Wesley's name is: Valley or meadow in the West. And since Wesley was conceived in Beaver Creek (Canada's most Westerly community, which is surrounded by North America's largest mountains), I found it to be quite fitting.
Wesley's second name is Birch, and is in honour of the birch trees that surrounded us in the Yukon (and here too). The First Nations people in Beaver Creek, would harvest birch bark to make all kinds of beautiful and functional items such as baskets, moose callers, baby carriers, toys and more. I have fond memories of learning to make a birch basket, and so that is where Wesley's second name comes from.
And now, Wesley's birth story.
On Dec. 14th, the day before Wesley was born, I began to feel some serious cramping that had not occurred prior. They were kinda sharp period cramps, not the low dull ones I had with Katia, and I knew that things were starting to happen. In my mind, I started to prepare. I began to make mention to Noah and Katia that things could start happening, that baby could decide to come soon. I just wanted them to feel somewhat prepared and not thrown for a loop. To be honest, I think Winslow was in a little bit of denial that things were starting to happen, he insisted that we had a few more days.
The night, I fell asleep early at about 7pm, only to wake up at around 10 pm with continuous cramps. I tried to ignore them and fall back asleep, but I recognized them as "back labour" pains, and couldn't  sleep through them. I decided to start texting my friend Leanne back in the Yukon. She was my doula for Katia's birth, and knows a great deal about birthing. I was sad that she couldn't be with me for this birth, but felt connected to her through texts, as she offered me advice and suggestions.
In the middle of the night I had a warm bath which greatly helped with the pain of the back labour. I didn't get back to sleep that night.
Come morning, I filled Winslow in on what happened. My contractions were still 10 minutes apart, as they had been all night, and I was feeling tired and in pain. I began to feel that this labour was very similar to Noah's (which was painful, long and ended up with a posterior baby and  a c-section). I recognized the similar pain (in my back) and the I felt a bit disappointed, as my experience with Katia's labour had been so lovely and relatively easy. I really wanted things to pick up, and all the while Winslow was still convinced that things weren't actually happening.
I spent the morning puttering around and stopping for contractions. We were lucky enough to have my Dad with us, and he was  helping me during my contractions by applying counter pressure on my back (meanwhile Winslow was running around, dropping Noah off at school, taking the car in for an oil change *ugh!* and charging the batteries for the cameras.)
It was around 9am that my contractions started to pick up. They were anywhere from 8, to 5, to 3 minutes apart (very similar to Noah's labour) and we decided that it might be a good time to get ready for the hospital.
To add to the excitement of an impending baby, it also happened to be Noah's school concert that day (something I had been anticipating for months), and it looked like I was going to miss it. I was terribly sad about missing it, but I knew that it was just going to be that way, so we made arrangements for Grandpa to take Katia to the show.
It was around 10:30 am when we decided to make our way to the hospital. My contractions weren't consistent, but they were about 5 minutes apart, and seeing as this way my third baby, we decided to go ahead. I had a few phone calls from friends (hi Sarah!) and then we made our way there.
I remember as we drove to the hospital, I only had one contraction and was able to walk up the stairs to the maternity unit. I knew that things were slowing down once again and began to feel defeated. I was checked by the nurse and was only 2 cm at that point. She suggested that we walk around and try to get labour going some more, so that's what we did. It was very busy in the hospital and I was not enjoying myself at all. As we walked the halls of the hospital, people would stop and ask us if I was okay. It was distracting and I felt like I was a spectacle. We decided that since things had slowed down, that maybe we should head home for a bit so that I could rest. I was very tired and since we weren't being admitted to a labour room, I wanted to be somewhere more quiet.
On the way out to the car, my contractions came on strong once again. Winslow was reluctant to drive away from the hospital, but I really felt the need to get away from the hospital and decided that a drive might do us good (at least it would be quiet and we could head back to the hospital if need be).
On our drive, Winslow stopped for some food (hey, someone's gotta eat!) and I worked through intense back labour contractions. I remember that during my contractions, I would roll down the windows and as soon as they were done, I would crank the heat up. We must have spent almost an hour and a half, driving around and ultimately parking just next to the hospital, while I worked through my contractions. Finally, when I couldn't handle the pain anymore, we pulled up to the hospital and Winslow got me a wheel chair. The pain at this point was too unbearable to walk.
I remembering covering my self with my big North Face coat, hood over my head, as Winslow pushed me through the busy main entrance.
Once up in labour and delivery, things happened quick.
I was having back to back contractions and began to feel the need to push. It hurt like crazy and I was doing everything I could not to panic and lose sight of what was happening, but at the same time, this was nothing like my previous labour with Katia. It was intense and painful and all I could do was try to breathe through each contraction.
I remember being checked upon our 2nd arrival and now I was 6 cm. I was a bit irritated that things had not progressed quicker, but also knew that this was happening and that soon we'd be having a baby.
From entering the labour room, to when Wesley was born only took 1.5 hours. The pushing part was maybe 10 minutes (a far cry from the 3 hours it took with Noah and Katia- yes- I pushed with Noah even though he was a c-section baby). I remember lying on my back for delivering Wesley (even though I HATE that position) and I remember screaming the loudest I had ever screamed in my life.
As it turns out, the little guy was facing posterior as well (some people call this sunny-side-up) and so that would explain the intense pain. Usually, babies come out crown first, but Wesley was coming out face first (as Noah tried to do as well).
When Wesley was born, he was quickly whisked over to a heated table, as he was examined by the pediatrician and respiratory specialist (he had meconium). I wasn't thrilled about that, as they cut his umbilical cord without letting it pulse (as I had requested), but at that point, I was just happy that he was safely delivered.
One funny memory I have from Wesley's delivery, was that as soon as I saw his gender, I yelled out, "holy shit! it's a boy!". I'm not sure why I felt the need to announce it that way, and I'm not entirely proud of my choice of words, but I think I was truly surprised that he was not as she. I don't want anyone to think that I was disappointed that Wesley is a boy. Infact, I was very happy to learn he was a boy. We have loved having both a boy and girl, and Wesley is the perfect little addition to our family.
And so there it is. If I had to sum up my experience with Wesley's birth, I would use the following two words: FAST and FURIOUS ... oh and CRAZY. In the end, I had an unmedicated VBAC with a posterior baby. Wesley was born at 3:00pm on December 15th, and within an hour, Winslow was out the door and off to Noah's Christmas recital (he had two performances that day).
Having a baby at Christmastime (especially when you have 2 older children) is a little bit crazy. Throw in post partum hormones, healing after birth, and then add excited hyped up children on Christmas vacation and well... you can guess how the mood was here. I think we did our very best to take care of everyone's needs, but still, I must admit, that I kind of floated through Christmas and never quite got in the mood.
We are now 2 weeks into our life as a family of five, and I am happy to say that we are doing well. Winslow is on paternity leave for 8 weeks, and the children have this week off of school. It's been nice for us to just relax and stay close to home. Winslow and Grandpa have been able to take the kids to go skating and play outside, and we've all been enjoying movies, board games and lots of yummy food. It's petty blissful here at our house, and we are beyond in love with little Wesley Birch.
xox

pausing

There are those moments in the day that feel like a blur. We rush from one moment to the next, acting out many of our daily routines on auto pilot. Breakfast, pack lunches, find hats and mitts, off we go.
It goes on, day in, day out like this.
Then there are the moments that stop time. A rare slowing down, where we have the time to talk, laugh, just be. These moments, they are the ones worth living for. We just need the ability to search them out, and then,to savour them.
Today Katia and I sat by the Christmas tree, enjoying the moments just before dinner was ready. I asked her to stay still and grabbed my camera. The light was beautiful and I knew this would be a lovely black and white.
There are the other moments too. A quick text from my husband. You are a Super Mom he says. He doesn't know it, but those words made my day. Acknowledgment. Support. Generous. I am beyond thankful for him and those words. They helped me to carry on with my day.
It's so easy to move through the day, one foot in front of the other, just getting through it. And you know, somedays are just like that. Some days are hard and all we can do is keep breathing.
But when I am in a position to stop and savour, when I am able to find that grace, I do it, because I know that it is a gift. It is what this whole living thing is about.
xox

peace be with you

I need to slow it down. I take deep breaths.
My emotions are running high. I lose my temper too quickly and regret my words right after. I am overwhelmed by the news. The weight of the world is coming down on me and I don't know how to process it.
Pain, suffering, hate, ignorance. It builds up and I can't take it anymore. Shut off the social media. Shut off the view points and the voices. Shut off the generalizations, the images, the stories. Because it is too much for us all. It doesn't help.
I sit here in my quiet cozy house. My dog has more luxuries than most people in this world. I find joy in my children, as they play with things that most children in the world will never know.
We don't experience hunger in our home. We have cozy beds to rest our heads. We safely go about our lives, while other take shelter from bombs, environmental disasters, terrorists and God knows what else.
What can we do? Changing a Facebook profile to the French flag seems hardly relevant or appropriate. It's trivial and doesn't take into account all the other nations that experience terror on a daily basis.
I need to slow it down, take deep breaths, as anger and stress and feelings of being small and helpless take over.
I light a candle. I say quiet prayers. Peace, peace, peace.
I take stock of my blessings. Gratitude, gratitude, gratitude.
We make small decisions together. Actions, no matter how small, are better than nothing. My love and I, will donate this Christmas instead of gifts for one another. We will fill a shoe box together as a family, and send it off to Samaritan's Purse. We will practice random acts of kindness, this season... and more often. We will buy less, and spend more time together. We will not live in fear.

Peace be with you.
xox

I miss it

I miss it there. 

I miss the feeling of being surrounded by great mountains and clear rivers. 

I miss the feeling of coziness, smallness and security. 

Of being forced to be resourceful. Of having my immediate family close by to me. Of our close bonds and all the time we had together. 

Of simpler days. Simpler ways. Simpler to-do lists. Simpler schedules.

I've been told it gets easier, but never goes away. This pining for the North. And I'm sure it will, but maybe that's what scares me. I'm scared it will be just a distant memory, when I can't help but feel that a piece of our hearts are still there. 

Don't get me wrong, I do like it here, but right now, I am missing that familiarity. The feeling of knowing where I am. 

*And just to clarify, I am speaking mostly of my missing the Yukon in general and Whitehorse specifically. In case anyone feels the need to remind me of how I felt when living in Beaver Creek. 

create with love and it will taste better

I wasn’t quite aware of just how much I needed this creative retreat, until I was well into my second day of the Land and See workshops.
On a whim, back in the winter, and upon the urging of my wonderfully supportive husband, I signed up for this, too good  to be true set of photography workshops that would be held in the summertime on Prince Edward Island. Yes, the place that owns my heart, that place.
I had my reasons for wanting to go. I needed professional development, and this is what professionals do, they attend workshops. But deep down, I knew that there were other, more deep and personal reasons for why I wanted to be there.
These past few years in our isolated community have taken a toll on me. I used to feel guilty for admitting it, but denying my feelings of creative suffocation and loss of my authentic  self, didn’t help anyone in my family, especially myself.
For two years, my personal needs were on hold, as we lived in Beaver Creek for Winslow’s work. And while I love being a stay at home mama, and see a great many wonderful things about it, I also began to feel some resentment, as my needs, dreams and photography were put on hold for us  to be in there. It’s ok to be honest. This is part of our story, and one that I would never change, but I know that I seriously needed to get back in touch with my self.
Enter the crazy idea of attending a 5 day photography workshop, all on my own. It seemed luxurious and somewhat frivolous. Some people mentioned in passing that maybe it would be best to pass it up this time, but I knew, deep down that this was something that I so desperately needed to do.
Preparing for the trip was one hell of a headache. Logistics, an impending transfer, child care. As the hurdles came our way,  I began to have my doubts that this trip was meant to be. Yet still, this quiet yet determined voice inside of me was telling me to not give up on my dream, and I am learning that is so important to honour and listen to own voice.  To ignore your voice is dangerous, it is saying something so true and we must all listen to ourselves.
And so, after arranging flights, car rentals, child care (thanks to Grampy for coming up to help Winslow) and more, there I was, on my way. Nervous, scared, excited and elated, I made my way across the country feeling a sense of gratitude, openness and readiness, for something I hadn’t realized that I needed so, so very badly.

...

There I was, day 1 at Land and See, all on my own not knowing a soul.  As I found my way and pulled up to the beautiful country property of Dave and Erin Brosha, I just knew that this setting was magical and unique. Rolling hills of farm fields, big round golden coloured hay bales, green green grass, bright blue skies and the fluffiest white clouds – these details stood out for me, a stark contrast from the mountains and endless wilderness of the Yukon.  I made my way over to the groups of people who were all waiting outside of the 100 year old barn, where the workshops would take place.
One familiar face popped over to say hi, Caitlin Cleveland, a photographer who I greatly admire and respect. Our shared experience in the past brought us closer (we had the opportunity to meet each other last May, when I was in Yellowknife), and I was very much looking forward to hearing her speak and to learn from her.  Right away, she gave me a big hug, which put me at ease, and there I began to feel  that this was going to be a transformative experience  for me.
The days that followed were a nice balance of inspiring artists’ talks, slide shows, break-out sessions (where we followed a mentor of our choice, through their creative process), and hands on free time to work alongside fellow attendees and mentors.  It was hard for me at first to accept these gifts that were mine  for my taking. I kept asking myself, when was the last time that I had this much time to devote to learning and creating, and when was the last time that I had been surrounded by so many creative types. I quickly began to feel mixed emotions (cue pregnancy hormones). It had been 2 long years, of not experiencing those things, and here I was, with as I said, these gifts before me. I was overwhelmed with gratitude.
As it is to be expected, at the beginning of the week, there were many nerves and shy faces. By the end of the time there, the mood and comfort level had changed completely. It didn’t take long for hugs to be exchanged (freely), and for real emotions to come forth (think a room full of adults in tears). Many of the artists shared some really personal stories and experiences with us. Love, was the repeated theme of many of the talks, so was compassion and empathy. We heard about how photography acted as a form of therapy for one artist deals that with PTSD through his work as a paramedic.  The messages and topics were far beyond the parameters of what I expected we would learn about, they were life lessons, on how to live a true, authentic life. How could someone not be moved?

As I made my tired and weary way back across the country, I took the time to reflect on just how I had been impacted by this week. I think if I had to sum it up, I would say that I truly feel a sense of connectedness (with myself and the others that attended the workshops), and that I needed that sense so much.

I will leave off with this quote shared by a Cape Breton artist, Jon Brown. It spoke to me in many ways.

~ Remember to listen to your heart. When we create with love, it always ….. always tastes better. 

it's ok to be sad about saying goodbye

I'm a bit of a mess tonight. Okay, that's an understatement. I am full on ugly crying my heart out.
And the reason is, is that it has finally hit me. After the months of planning and talking about it, we are going (in a matter of 2 weeks), and it's not going to be easy on me.
5 years. 5 years in this beautiful, vast, magical, big and lonely territory... and now we are packing up and moving on. This is how it goes with RCMP families, and even though I have done it a few times now, I can tell you, it doesn't get easier.
We moved to the Yukon in the summer of 2010, when Noah was just 11 months old. At that time, I was so nervous and hesitant about this big life changing move of ours. I truly had no idea, just how amazing it would be for our family.
In 2011, we welcomed our sweet Yukon girl into the world, and our lives felt so complete. Being at home with my two littles was a joy and a job that I took seriously. I look back on those days with such fondness. The playdates, the coffee/tea dates with friends, the big Northern family holiday dinners.
The friends we've made, the exploring we've done, the photography that I've taken, the family memories that we've built,  it all happened here. How do I say goodbye? I can't even begin to start.
Tonight, while crying my heart out, a friend let me know that it is perfectly ok (and good) to feel these feelings. That it's good to feel it now, and I couldn't agree more. I certainly don't want to say goodbye, but I know that I must begin to find the closure, in order to move forward. It's a process, and I must honour it.
At the end of the day, as I go through the file of memories that I have stored away in my heart, I like to remind myself, that we very well may find ourselves back here some day. The Yukon is a magical place, that draws many people back to it. I will leave that possibility open in my heart and let it out to the universe. Just incase it ever happens... you never know.
But for now, we move forward. We move to another part of this beautiful country of ours and continue our journey as a family. We have many great things to look forward to, many adventures, new friends, and a new babe to join our family. It's going to be good. It always is. We're blessed.
xox

it's official

\

I suppose it's not really official until you tell the online world your news.
And so, without further adieu, we are excited to announce that we will be welcoming another sweet little soul into our family, late December. Yes, a Christmas baby.
I feel like I've been walking around with my own personal little secret for the past few months, but now that I am at the 14 week mark, I am ready to share the news with everyone else.
It's been a busy, exciting, overwhelming past few months, what with our house sale, house hunting trip, transfer and of course, pregnancy. But we are thrilled and happy to be having a wee babe join our family. We are all filled with excitement and anticipation.
Some fun facts, for anyone taking notes, we have a little reoccurring pattern that seems to happen in our family. Whenever we buy a new house, we also happen to be expecting a baby too (Hamilton, Whitehorse and now Kentville). Also, this baby will be born in Nova Scotia, which means that we have had a baby in each of our 3 posting provinces/territory (Ontario, Yukon and now Nova Scotia).
And so, here we go (once again!). We are truly thankful and blessed for this little one growing in my tummy ... and for anyone wanting to know, we will not be finding out the gender this time.
xox