Little Fowler

Just a few of the pictures we took of Tristan in the owl hat I made him. 

Week 10: Cinnamon Roll Pancakes

GAH! Hated making these! I hate making pancakes in general, so these were ten times worse...

But, they did taste delicious according to my husband and my brother, so I guess that counts for something.

Since all I ever do anyway, is copy and paste the recipe, I'm just going to give the link here: http://simplefeasts.tumblr.com/post/10451146385/mohopgold-cinnamon-roll-pancakes-yield-4

And here are the delicious, but PITA, pancakes.

The first attempt. Why is the first attempt always an epic fail? I burnt this one while I was taking pictures of it!

Much better.

I made these for Father's Day (Erik's 1st!) and he loved them. As did my brother. I was too angry at the pancakes to make myself one, so I couldn't tell you how they tasted, but judging by the reactions of the men folk, they were pretty damn good.

For those of you who are not inept at making pancakes, this is definitely a must try recipe. However, I don't think I will be making them again any time soon... or any kind of pancake for that matter!

Week 12: Tortellini and Garden Vegetable Bake

Okay, this was made quite a while back. I've been so wrapped up in my little man that I haven't posted it yet. This was Week 12 of 52 Weeks of Pinterest.

Tortellini and Garden Vegetable Bake

Ingredients

• 10 ounces dried cheese-filled tortellini (2-1/2 cups) or two 9-ounce packages refrigerated tortellini

• 1 medium carrot, thinly sliced

• 1 1/2 cups sugar snap peas, halved crosswise

• 1 tablespoon margarine or butter

• 1 pound skinless, boneless chicken breasts, cut into bite-size pieces

• 1 cup sliced fresh mushrooms

• 1/3 cup chicken broth

• 2 tablespoons snipped fresh oregano or 1-1/2 teaspoons dried oregano, crushed

• 2 teaspoons all-purpose flour

• 3/4 teaspoon garlic salt

• 1/2 teaspoon pepper

• 1 cup milk

• 1 8 ounce package cream cheese or light cream cheese (Neufchatel), cubed and softened

• 1 tablespoon lemon juice

• 1 cup quartered cherry tomatoes

• 1 small red or green sweet pepper, coarsely chopped

• 2 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese

Directions

1. Cook tortellini in boiling salted water according to package directions, adding the carrot during the last 5 minutes of cooking and the sugar snap peas during the last 1 minute of cooking; drain.

2. Meanwhile, heat margarine or butter in a 12-inch skillet. Add chicken and mushrooms, and cook about 5 minutes or until chicken is no longer pink. Remove from skillet.

3. Shake together chicken broth, oregano, flour, garlic salt, and pepper in a screw-top jar until smooth. Add to skillet along with milk. Cook and stir until thickened and bubbly; add cream cheese. Cook and stir until cream cheese is smooth. Remove from heat. Stir in lemon juice. Add pasta mixture, chicken mixture, tomatoes, and sweet pepper. Toss to coat. Turn into an ungreased 13x9x2-inch baking dish or shallow 3-quart casserole.

4. Bake, covered, in a 350 degrees F oven for 30 to 35 minutes or until heated through. Stir mixture and sprinkle with Parmesan cheese. Transport in an insulated carrier. Makes 12 main-dish serving

Sorry I didn't feel like summarising, so this is copied and pasted right from the Better Homes and Gardens website. http://www.bhg.com/recipe/poultry/tortellini-and-garden-vegetable-bake/

So, I can't take credit for making this as my Mum was the one who did. Also, I can't quite remember the changes that we made, but I do know there were a few omissions. What I can say is that it was delicious and I loved it! I will definitely be keeping this recipe around for a nice summer day! Yummy :)

1 Month Old

Tristan was officially a month old on Tuesday.

...and clearly not very happy about it!

At his one month doctor's appointment Tristan weighed in at 10 lbs, 12 oz and measured nearly 23 inches. He has a mild case of thrush, but we are told it is nothing to be concerned about as almost all babies are born with a mild case of it and it doesn't cause them any distress.

For the past three nights, Tristan has slept 8 hours (or longer) straight. Then eats and goes right back to sleep for another two hours. I'm loving it! I think Erik is loving it even more, because now he doesn't have to get up in the night.

And those smiles I was talking about a few days ago? Yeah, they are definitely real smiles!



Brag Moment!

I just have to take a moment to brag about my son. He slept eight hours straight last night. 9:00 PM to 5:00 AM. And then, just fifteen minutes later - after a quick bottle - he was fast asleep again! Please tell me this is going to become a regular thing!!!

Baby Smiles?

I am almost positive Tristan is starting to smile. All day he has been making little faces and hints of smiles. This evening when I had him on his play mat and he was rocking out to my iPod, he definitely made plenty of little, almost smiles. Then, when Erik was nudging his cheek with his little cow rattle he gave us what I am 95% sure was a little grin. I'm sure it will only be a matter of days now before he is full-out smiling.

For the record, I think I am going to document today, June 11, one day shy of one month old, as the day he started smiling. I can see it. He is definitely trying and I'm almost sure I saw a few true little smiles in there.

I just can't wait until he really starts smiling and meaning it. I will be over the moon happy!

4 Week Photos

Tristan was four weeks old on Saturday. And tomorrow, on Tuesday, he will be one month exactly. Crazy!

These are just some of the pictures we took during our little 4 week photo shoot. I'm quite pleased with them.

I just love his little feet in these socks! Makes me happy :)

Erik and I both agree that it looks like he is fencing in this photo. Engarde!

Quite content after his meal. Love the hair. Not to mention, the formula goatee!

Having a conversation with Connery. "And then the bird was like..."

"Hey, Connery, look over there!"

I seriously have to start taking more photos outside. I've been so frustrated with my camera lately. It hasn't been taking very good pictures indoors, even in what I think are good lighting conditions. But these outdoor photos turned out great. Now if only my camera could take pictures like this indoors without me having to ramp up the ISO to 1600 just to get a decent exposure... Something I will be working on and experimenting with some more. 

Growing Every Day!

On Wednesday the public health nurse came to our house and weighed and measured Tristan again. I am proud to say that my little man is officially a ten pounder!!! At three weeks, four days, he weighed 10 lbs, 4 oz and measured 22 inches! He gained a total of 25 ounces since his last weigh in 12 days prior. A whole pound and a half. Talk about a growth spurt.

I can't believe how quickly he is growing and how big he has gotten in four weeks. He will be a teenager before I even know it! Sometimes I miss my little newborn, just brand new. It seems so long ago that we were coming home from the hospital with him. At the same time, though, I feel so excited to see him grow even more every day and can't wait to see how he will change in the next week, month, year... I guess I am stuck with these conflicting emotions for the rest of my life now.

Every day I learn a little bit more about my little man. We're slowly figuring things out. I've started learning his cries and fussiness. He screams when he is hungry and fussy cries when he is wet or needs something else. During the night he wakes up between 12 and 1 (after being put down around 7:30 - 8:00) and then again at around 4 almost like clockwork. The easiest way to get him to go to sleep is to cuddle up with him in bed and turn on Netflix. He doesn't watch, just lies on his tummy on my chest and is lulled to sleep by the sounds and me rubbing his back. He loves the light. He is absolutely mesmerized by it and could stare forever. He "smiles" as he is drifting off to sleep or just starting to wake up. He doesn't really like tummy time, unless it is on Mommy's or Daddy's chest. He will lie there quite content for a few minutes, just kind of relaxing, then he will decide he doesn't like it, get frustrated and start fussing. He will only start lifting his head and moving it around when he gets to that frustrated and angry stage. But if you put him on your chest he has no problem lifting his head and looking for you. He absolutely hates being wet and will fuss and cry until you change him, but could care less and is quite content if he has a blow out poop. If you put him in the car seat he will cry and scream. Give him a pacifier or a bottle, tuck a warm blanket around him, rock him a few times and he is out like a light within 30 seconds. He is absolutely wonderful and I love him so much.

I really can't wait to see how much he will grow and how much more I will learn about him in the next four weeks!

Tristan's Birth Story

Well here we are three weeks after Tristan was born and I am finally getting my birth story posted! You can't blame me. Life with a new baby is busy! I'm just proud of myself for actually getting it done.

Warning, it is LOOOOONG!

So...

It all started with a leg cramp. Correction: It all started with the worst leg cramp I have experienced in my whole life. It woke me up out of a dead sleep - the first good sleep I had managed to get in the better part of two weeks – around 2:30 Tuesday morning. The cramp was excruciating, but I think it panicked me more than anything because it would not go away no matter what I tried. I yelled and sobbed, and poor Erik woke up thinking I was in labour. It was the right idea, but my body had the wrong muscle!

I don't know if it was just because he was tired and not quite lucid or if I was mumbling like he says, but it took forever to finally make Erik understand what was going on. There was definitely a moment when I thought, “He better catch on quicker when I am actually in labour because if this is a preview of how things are going to go down, I just might strangle him.”

Finally, the cramp faded, and less than half an hour later I was experiencing a whole different kind of cramping (and much less painful, I might add). I decided to start timing the contractions, which were about 15-20 minutes apart. I thought, “Great! Maybe that leg cramp actually started something.” Indeed, it looked like it had. Over the course of the morning, they gradually got closer and closer together and mildly stronger, although I could still barely feel them. I was just beginning to wonder when I should call the hospital when I got a phone call from my OB's receptionist – shortly after 10:00 AM.

She said that Dr. Yacoub wanted to know if I would come in to be induced a day early. Of course, my answer was “Yes!” Inducement scared me a little and it was something I had hoped to avoid, but by that point I was overdue and just wanted the baby out of me.

The feeling of joy and excitement and anticipation was incredible after that call. I don't think I have ever seen Erik so happy and excited and almost giddy. We were both high off of it. Our grins were from ear to ear. We couldn't believe it was actually happening and I really think that it was that moment when we both realized that this was really happening. We were going to have a baby! It really was one of the best feelings in the world.

After the call, things got a little crazy. We realized then that I didn't even have my hospital bag fully packed. 40 weeks, 4 days and my hospital bag was lying half-packed on the living room floor. We spent the next half hour or so running around, gathering things up, trying to make sure nothing was left behind. When we were finally ready to walk out the door, I couldn't find my wallet with my health card! No matter where we looked I couldn't find it anywhere and I needed that health card. We must have searched for a good fifteen minutes before we found it... and then realized that in our search we had misplaced Erik's phone. That took another good fifteen! An hour or so later, we finally made it out the door.

We arrived at the hospital around eleven and Mum and my brother arrived a few minutes later. We waited a couple of hours before I even got in to a room to be monitored, but it didn't matter because we were still high from the excitement. After being monitored it was another several hours before we even saw Dr. Yacoub. We found out that I was only about 2 cm dilated, even after all of the “practice” contractions I had been having during the weeks before and the regular contractions I had been having all that morning. But taking the fact that I was having regular contractions and was dilated a bit already, Dr Yacoub was pretty confident that I would go in to labour on my own within the next 12 hours. He gave me two options. I could stay and be induced, or I could go home and wait for labour to come naturally.

I honestly panicked. I hate making decisions, especially ones that have to be made pretty much on the spot. I remember glancing at Erik, eyes wide, silently begging him to answer for me. But I knew he couldn't answer for me. I made a snap decision. I said I would wait for labour to come naturally. There were two things that really swayed my decision. Number one, I really wanted to have the experience of naturally progressing labour. I wanted to allow my body to do it's own thing and take over. Also, I wasn't quite aware of how inducement would affect the progression of my labour and also the baby. All I really knew about inducement was about pitocin and how it brought labour on hard and fast and could possibly put stress on the baby. I didn't know how Cervadil or breaking my water would be different.

Even though I had been so excited for it to finally be happening, to finally know that I was going to get to meet my baby very soon, I felt that waiting for labour to come on it's own, especially with everyone (even myself) confident it would be very soon, was the best decision. Dr Yacoub even told me himself he thought I was making the right decision. He stretched my cervix to hopefully help things progress and then we went home.

I knew Erik was disappointed and I felt absolutely horrible for it the rest of the day. I kept second guessing myself because I could see the complete change in him from so happy to sullen and disappointed. However, I knew deep down that I had made a good decision.

How was I to know that by ten that night the contractions would fizzle out? Everything had seemed so promising. After we left the hospital, we went out for dinner and walked around the mall for a while. The contractions started coming closer together and more intense, just like they were supposed to. But it all turned out to be a false alarm.

As told, we went back to the hospital Wednesday morning for my original induction date... and were turned away after several hours of waiting. I would have gone in, would have gotten the last bed they had available if I hadn't had to go pee. We had been waiting two and a half hours and I desperately had to go to the bathroom. Unfortunately, they have no public washroom available on the fourth floor. If I had to pee I would have to go down to the main floor lobby. I was desperate enough for it. My mum assured me she would let the nurses know what was happening and hold our spot for us. No sooner had I left, the nurse called my name. My mum explained what was going on, but the nurse basically said “You snooze, you lose,” and took the woman who had been waiting just 20 minutes. Erik was livid and seeing red, but there was nothing we could do.

We waited for another half hour or so before we were told it wouldn't be happening that day. Labour and Delivery was swamped and the woman they had taken before us had taken the last bed. Dr Yacoub delivered the news to us himself and was so nice and apologetic about it that I really couldn't be upset. To be completely honest, I was almost relieved when he told us it wouldn't be happening that day. With my anxiety, the thought of going through labour and delivery in a crowded ward was horrifying. And we had been waiting so long and I was feeling terrible that day (from the sinusitis and respiratory infection I was suffering from). All I wanted to do was go home.

Thursday. We expected the third time to be the charm. No luck. Labour and delivery was run ragged with women in labour (damn super moon). This time we were pulled aside into the doctor's lounge. I think the nurse was afraid we would make a scene. She knew we had been there three days in a row now. I truly thought Erik would make a scene, too. Before he could let his frustration get the better of him, I quickly told her that we completely understood and no worries. And truly I did understand. There was nothing they or I or anyone could do about the fact that so many women were going in to labour and there were a couple of emergency c-sections to boot. It wasn't their fault and although I was incredibly frustrated with the situation and disappointed, I couldn't get mad at them for it. The nurse told us that they expected a few discharges later that day and that tomorrow should be more promising, but to call first, just in case.

So, Friday morning at six we called obstetrics to see if there were beds available. There were three. As long as we got there before anyone else and as long as there were no emergencies, I would be induced! And by 10:30 on Friday, May 11, I was.

Yeah, I got breakfast!

I was given Cervadil as I was still not quite dilated enough for my water to be broken. After an hour of being monitored, 45 minutes of walking, and another twenty of monitoring, I was sent home to wait for labour to pick up.

At around 3 o'clock that afternoon I started to notice some mild contractions and started timing them. By mild I mean that I couldn't even really feel them. They only way I knew I was having them was because I could feel my belly go hard. If I didn't have a hand on my belly to feel them, I probably wouldn't even notice I was having them. They got gradually stronger, but remained low on the scale. I was a tad concerned, though, that they were very close together. From the moment they started they were 2-4 minutes apart. I knew that you were supposed to go to the hospital if they were less than five minutes apart and lasting 30-60 seconds for an hour. Mine had been averaging at 3 minutes apart, lasting about 45 seconds for several hours. At around seven Erik and I went to run some errands and go for a drive with my mum and brother. The nurse was supposed to call between 7 and 9 to check on my progress, so I told them that if we didn't receive a call by the time we got home, then we would call and ask if I should go in. We got home without a call, so Erik called obstetrics. He was told that I should wait until they were unbearable before I came in.

Right after the call, I went to the bathroom and when I stood up after felt a gush of water. It hadn't even been five minutes since Erik had gotten off the phone with obstetrics and he was calling back saying “Yeah, I just called like five minutes ago. My wife's water just broke, so it looks like we are coming in.”

In the next few minutes, Erik and Eric panicked, while Mum and I took our time and remained completely calm. I was actually shocked at how calm and in good spirits I was. Poor Erik was getting so frustrated with me. There he was in that typical father-to-be, rush to the hospital state of mind and I was taking the time to change my underwear and pants and to brush my hair, feeling no rush at all. My water actually gushed again while I was in the room changing. And I don't mean a trickle. It was a huge gush and it just kept coming. I always expected that when my water broke it would either be a gradual trickle or just one big gush. Mine just kept gushing though. Even on the way to the hospital and a couple of hours in to my labour, I was getting random gushes of water that soaked the floor or the bedding or my clothes. My belly shrank considerably before the baby was even born, just from all the water that came out!

I always said that when I went in to labour, I wanted it to be obvious. I wanted the mucous plug to come out in a big, messy glob and my water to break in one big gush like Niagara Falls. I definitely got my wish on the second!

Anyway, we arrived at the hospital just after eight. In the short time it had taken to drive from Petawawa to Pembroke, the intensity of my contractions had gotten much stronger! They weren't unbearable, but I definitely felt the pain and had to take a few deep breaths to get through them. By the time I was settled in the room and checked they were getting even stronger. I was still in pretty good spirits, though. In between contractions I would be adjusting my camera settings, trying to find the optimum settings for the low lighting in my room. When a contraction came I would pass off my camera, breathe through it, then take the camera right back and keep working.

Me fixing my camera between contractions.

I was disappointed to learn that I was only 3 cm when I was checked first. At that point things were getting much more intense and I couldn't imagine how much worse the pain was going to get if I still had 7 cm to go. I think it kind of scared and panicked me for a moment. At this time, my nurse asked me “On a scale from one to ten how painful are the contractions?” My least favourite phrase of all time is “On a scale of one to ten...”! I am so bad at trying to guess where my pain or discomfort level is. But, I was trying to be cooperative, so I told her a seven but that it was probably much lower than that in reality and I would be changing it to a four in a couple of hours when I was experiencing even stronger contractions!

Then the nurse showed me the tub. Oh, the tub! A hot bath has always been my best friend when I am not feeling well or experiencing particularly rough PMS, so when I was told that I could use the tub while in labour I was so relieved and happy! And the water worked wonders for a while. But even the water couldn't stop the contractions from getting more intense, until I was sick with them. Literally sick, I mean. I threw up twice in the bathroom and then again after I had gotten out of the tub.

Contraction as I was getting out of the tub.

That is when things started to get bad. I tried really hard to breathe through it, to consciously relax my body like I had learned years ago in yoga. It helped, but barely. I finally gave up on that and resorted to the good old vice grip on Erik's arm. And when that wasn't making me feel any better either, I decided I wanted an epidural. My contractions had never been more than 4 minutes apart, and by this time were two minutes apart and lasting a minute or longer each. That means, I only had about 30 - 45 seconds in between each contraction to rest and recover before the next one came like a wave. It was exhausting.

Contraction!

So, when Dr Yacoub came in to check me again (and I was only just barely at 4 cm), I requested the epidural. Or Erik requested it for me... I can't quite remember. I do remember that I was afraid that he wouldn't give it to me because I wasn't far enough along or something. He asked me at least twice if I was sure I wanted it. I think that was because I had told him I had wanted to try to do it naturally. But I was under no illusions. I needed the epidural.

And I remember too, too well how long it took for me to get the epidural! The blood work seemed to take forever to come back, and when it finally did it took forever for the anaesthesiologist to get there! It was early morning before they finally got things going and then she had to explain the epidural to me, what she was doing, and what the risks were. I seriously wanted to scream and tell her to just stick the damn needle in my back already!!! But I knew that she had to explain and make sure I understood before she could continue, so I held it in and tried to listen through the contractions.

The epidural took a while to set in with me. Longer than they or I had expected and when it did, it only numbed one side. So they had to put a pillow under one side to try to get the other side to go numb as well. Finally, both sides were numbed and it was a dream! Until it started to wear off not even an hour later... The contractions started to once again get more and more intense and closer and closer together (they had spaced out a bit due to the epidural). The worst of it was that the anaesthesiologist hadn't left orders for me to get another dose if it wore off, so the nurses couldn't do anything until they got permission from her.

Again, it seemed like forever and was probably about another 45 minutes or longer before I was approved for another dose. After the second dose was given, I was checked again and I was at 10 cm. Unfortunately, because I couldn't feel the pressure to push, we had to wait a while longer to push. After a while, the nurse decided that even though I wasn't feeling the pressure, we could try a few practice pushes to make sure I knew what to do when it was time to actively push. Well, I did such a good job pushing that we kept at it. I even had them impressed because I was flexible enough to use the hand grips for pushing to prop my feet against instead of the foot ones.

Pushing was absolutely the best part of the night (before baby was born, of course). I was relaxed and in a good mood. Even though my epidural was gradually wearing away with each push, I found the contractions much easier to handle. I loved the pushing part. I was even able to have a good conversation with the nurse in between pushes. It turns out I know her two kids. She was telling me about her twins, and what tipped me off was when she mentioned that her son was in to tae kwon do and had taught with the club on base. Well, I immediately made the connection to a guy I had gone to school with and his twin sister. After that we really hit it off and had a good conversation going.

Erik got right in to it, too. He was fascinated by watching my belly gradually move lower with each push. I remember him saying “Hey, I can see your ribs now.” And when the head started to move down and he was completely enthralled. He said “It's like watching the Discovery Channel in HD.” ... Yeaaah... At one point, he wasn't even up by my head supporting me. He was sitting on a chair at the end of the bed, just watching the head crown. I did get pissed off at him a couple of times because he wasn't counting for me. I really found the counting helped. The nurse had started counting for me and then Erik was supposed to take over. Well, he kind of just stopped and then I kept having to remind him to count for me.

Finally, it was time to call Dr. Yacoub. He was at the hospital within about 15 minutes and about another 15 minutes later at 4:22 AM on May 12, 2012 – a total of an hour and ten minutes of active pushing, Tristan was born. There was a moment of concern when I realized that he had the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck and there was some trouble getting it off, but it was only a moment. He didn't really take that first loud cry. Rather he fussed. The nurse kept telling me to rub his back and keep him crying to get lots of oxygen in him. Her exact words were “We need to pinken him up.”

First time holding him as he was passed to me.

As soon as he was born, my first words were “You're all cheesy!” because he had vernix – the greyish, cheese-like substance that cover babies while in the womb – all over his back and then I told Erik to get the camera. Poor Erik, there I was telling him to take pictures and the doctor was trying to ask him if he wanted to cut the cord (which he did).

When all was said and done, I only needed one stitch and had no external tearing. Pretty good for having delivered a kid with a big head!

Tristan stayed with me for a good long time before the nurse took him to be assessed and cleaned up, which I was really pleased about. It had been something I had wanted but was too afraid to ask for. I was so glad when she told me he got to stay with me for as long as I liked. I will admit, I didn't keep him too, too long, though, because I was so eager to find out how much he weighed! Haha!

And just in case anyone is wondering, my little man scored a 9 on his Apgar. The only reason he didn't get a ten is because he didn't cry right away.

So, from the time my water broke to the time Tristan was born, it was only about eight hours of labour. For a first delivery, I think that is pretty darn good! Especially considering the horror stories you hear about 36 hour long labours... Yikes. I was lucky!

Bittersweet

It seems that two in the morning is the only time I really have for myself to take the time to write here. I should probably be sleeping but I'm wide awake after Tristan's feeding (7ish to 1, pretty good!).

I'm going to write about something different today (GASP! A post that's not about my new baby!... not really, at least). I want to write about dance.

I've been dancing since I was four years old. Jazz, tap, ballet, hip-hop, lyrical, highland. I've done almost everything that is offered where I am. I wouldn't say I'm good. You won't find me on So You Think You Can Dance. At best, I'm decent. I pass. But, I could be better. I'm the first to admit that my technique needs a lot of work.  Sometimes I'm very aware of this, but in the grand scheme of things, when I break it all down, I just love to dance for fun. There is a lot of extra work that I could put in. I could have a special work out routine based just around my dancing. I could stretch and work my feet for hours every day. But, I'm not trying to be a professional. I never wanted a career in dance. It's a recreational activity. Something I have always done because it's fun and I love it and it's become a huge part of my life. Something that I hope I will get to continue to do for a very long time.

I got a bit of a taste of what it would be like not to have dance in my life when I was pregnant. It was actually quite early on in my pregnancy that I made the decision to stop taking classes. At around 14 weeks I started experiencing round ligament pain, which is essentially just the ligaments and muscles that support the uterus stretching and adjusting. But dance was making it considerably worse and causing it to linger longer than it should have. So, I stopped because I thought it was what was best for me at the time. And part of me, I think, welcomed the break.

I've been dancing for 17 years. I love it and couldn't imagine never dancing again. But I think that a year off dancing was due. I have found in the past couple of years, dancing has become a bit of a chore. Not that I didn't enjoy it! I love dance, as I've said multiple times and will say many more. I was getting tired, though, if that makes sense and my anxiety was starting to go through the roof every time it was time to go to dance. I think I needed the break. I still taught, so I wasn't completely cut off, but wasn't taking classes myself. That took a huge load off of me. I missed it, for sure, but for the most part I was pretty relieved to relax a little.

The hardest part about not dancing this year, was last night. Opening night of the end of year recital. I went to help out and because I had a few of my girls that were performing who I wanted to be there for. I went because I wanted to be a part of it. I don't think I will ever be ready to take a complete break from dance. I was back stage, doing odd jobs, anything I was needed for, and, of course, being their to help get my girls ready. And it was bittersweet to be amidst all the excitement and chaos of backstage on opening night.

I had to watch the groups that I had started the year out with - jazz and lyrical, and the Opening and Finale, which I would have been a part of - get ready, make themselves up, stretch, and then go on stage and perform. It made me so sad to have to stand on the sidelines and watch them when I was feeling like  I should be a part of it. I wanted so badly to be out there with them. I was nearly in tears and full of regret.

I wouldn't give up being pregnant and having Tristan for the world. I have no regrets about getting pregnant or being a mother. I do wish, though, that there was some way that I could have kept dancing longer. I wish that I could have been a part of it, even if it was just a very small part. Something simple in the Opening and Finale maybe would have made me feel more involved. I think I still would have been sad watching my "peers" go on without me, but it might have made it a little easier. I never realized it would be so hard to watch from the sidelines.

I have another three weeks before I should be cleared to start exercising (other than walks and light things like that). I will be dancing again as soon as I can. I had a good break, but it's time to go back. I am ready and I think, hopefully, that I will appreciate dance a bit more now.

I just hope that I can get back in ready shape by the beginning of August! Dance camp might be a little rough for me this year.

...

And just because I can't have a post without adding something about my little boy: I would just like to say that in just an hour and twenty five minutes he will be three weeks old!!! He's growing up so quickly...