Remembering Bennet: An Invitation

Eleven months.

Today marks eleven full months my baby boy was born sleeping.

It is a bizarre concept, to be born dead. 

I should be planning a first birthday party. Instead, I'm planning a memorial. 

While Bennet was dying and we were in Hobart undergoing a multitude of tests, scans and lots and lots and LOTS of waiting, we spent a lot of time at the ocean. Mainly looking out at fishing boats and the vastness of the ocean. Not knowing what was going to happen, except that our much-wanted second son was probably going to die very soon. Trying in any way to bring some sort of calm to the new chaos and awfulness that had slammed into our lives. 

One of my journal pages.
With a note to Bennet in the boat.

The ocean still reminds us of our Ben. 

The steady waves. The deep blue. The freshness. The openness. All the time we spent looking into it, praying for his life and the decisions we might have to make.

And so we decided that, for Bennet's first birthday, we would release paper boats. 

Something we can make with our own hands. Because there is healing in doing. 

Something we can write little notes on to him, or prayers to God. Because there is healing in being heard. 

(The added benefit of it being that they have little to no impact on the environment as they will break down fairly quickly in the water)

And, since a great deal of our support, and Bennet's family, lives far overseas, we decided that we would create a page where anyone who wants to remember Bennet with us can, by making and releasing their own paper boats and sharing their photos with us on his birthday. 

And because I know I am not alone in loosing a baby (statistics are 1 in 4 will loose a baby through miscarriage. Statistics on still birth are harder to find because not every state can agree on a butt-load of things I'll not go in to here), and there is so much silence around pregnancy loss, I wanted to give other's an opportunity to remember their own babies as well. 

So I created a Facebook page for Bennet's birthday, for anyone who would like to remember Bennet with us on what should be his first birthday, or their own baby gone too soon. 

We will also be raising money for Bears of Hope. It is a non-profit organisation that supports families who have lost a baby at any age or gestation. One member in particular has been of so much support to both Phillip and me and is one of the reasons we're still so... sane. And really healing. I don't have words for what this organisation means to us, or to describe the help and hope that it has brought us this past year. So we are raising money so Bears of Hope can continue to help care for families in the amazing way they do. If you wish to donate, the link here leads to Bennet's page. 

So this is my invitation, to anyone who reads it, to remember our baby boy with us, on his birthday, October 21st.  

Birthday

"What do you want for your birthday?" my husband has been asking me for the last few weeks.

I will turn 30 on Monday.

Which is supposed to be a big thing for some reason, turning 30. And I've got nothing planned. I don't know what I want really.

There are always THINGS I could use, things I want.

I had hoped to maybe fly home to the U.S., celebrate with my family and close friends. Nothing big, just being together, talking, hanging out, good drinks, brownies not cake, because I don't really like cake all that much. (Well, I don't like frosting. Cake is fantastic, frosting... not so much. FUDGEY brownies, too, not cakey ones.)

But instead, I will be home in Australia, alone with my husband and one of our sons. Missing the other one. And maybe eating salmon and having a glass of wine.

I don't really want to celebrate this year, being so far away from so many people I love. The last 3 years I haven't been overly eager to celebrate my birthday anyway because it just feels weird celebrating in the winter instead of summer, and without my family and friends. But THIS year, this year is harder.

This year, I will not be having a very happy birthday.

Which might seem like a really pessimistic, maybe even selfish statement to make.

But you see, one of my biggest dreams, one of the things I have always ALWAYS wanted was a house full of little boys. Kind of like Jo, from Little Women. I just wanted to raise lots of little boys.

The moment I found out Bennet was a boy I already knew he was dying, and my mind still played through the joy of what years of having TWO boys might be like! I hated my brain for doing that to me.

So my birthday is now one of "those" days. One of those days that should be filled with more celebration and laughter because we should have another little boy with us. One of those days that should have more hair pulling, more sibling fights and rivalry, more smiles, more giggles, more belly kisses and happy good-mornings filled with two little boy's smiles. And one of my boys is not here. And I miss him more, if possible, on days like this.

Days like this, I don't want anything but to have him back alive. Days like this I would move heaven and earth if I could see him smile, hear him giggle, hell, even just hear him breath. Just once.

Days like this I hold my living son a little tighter, I smile through tears as we play together, I give him extra hugs and belly kisses, extra stories and songs. Days like this I have joyful moments, maybe even happy ones, but they are not happy days. Days like this I appreciate more what I do have, and miss more what I don't.

Two Years Old!

My little boy turned TWO! I no longer have a baby on my hands, and honestly, haven't for quite a while. He is a full-blown high-energy INSANE and wonderful toddler! I have survived nearly 2 full weeks of super-real toddlerhood! And, tantrums aside, this is one of my favorite ages.

Learning lessons from last year (where I went all-out for the family party we had while pregnant and very very sick), I supremely toned it down this year. Mostly because last year, for Simon's 1st birthday, we announced that he was going to be a big brother. So we weren't sure if we could emotionally handle having people over because it is, this year, anyway, one of "those" days, that might trigger extreme sadness (read: more than the every-day sadness) that Ben isn't here. I don't care about showing my sadness in front of most people, but people are EXHAUSTING. Parties more so.

But Phillip and I decided that, since we'd skipped the family Mother's Day celebration (it being another one of "those" days that just... hurt), we'd invite the family over to kind of say "yeah, we can't handle some things, but we still want to be around you when we can because we still care about you all."

Apparently several of my text invites never went through though, so two of four families never knew we even had a party (I apologised profusely and they're all happy), along with some other... upsets... about us missing Mother's Day... it turned out to be a very very small family party.

We had fun, though, celebrating our crazy kiddo. The weekend before (the day before Mother's Day), we took Simon to Ag Fest, as part of his birthday treat, to look at all the tractors, trucks, and other farm equipment that makes his little boy heart so happy.

Excavators are his FAVORITE

Something I learned from one of my cousins, who throws quite beautiful themed parties from time to time, is that it is best to simplify things. Pick the top few things you really really want to do, and do those. Otherwise, there are so many cool ideas out there to try, it gets VERY overwhelming and you end up only half doing any of the things and have a party that looks half as well put-together.

Thus, my focus for this little party was the table. (And what Simon loves, of course). Simon is, like a lot of children his age, absolutely in LOVE with trucks and tractors. So we made a "Farmer's Market" table for his food, and John Deere colors because, well, it was easy and we had leftover yellow stuff to decorate with. Phillip designed a quick a cool-looking sign to bring it all together. I cleaned out his dump truck VERY thoroughly, and we served sausages in it, and put a small tray in his wooden tractor and had "farm fresh" hard boiled eggs in it, and had plenty of fresh veggies and potato salad on the side. With the John Deere colored cake with it's little tractor on top, I think it all came together nicely. And the two-year-old looked about as impressed as a two-year-old can be with food.

I would probably do just about anything to get that smile to stay on his face.

He got a LOT of books from Grandma, Popop, and Mama
and Daddy.
And insisted on reading each one before going on to
the next gift

Our big gift to him this year was a ride-on tractor my sister convinced us to buy him because he tries to ride everything from soccer balls, to his toy trucks, to the cats (the last one is problematic). And of course he got books. He LOVES books. WE love books. Like my dad said, it's never to early to start your own library. He likes his tractor quite a lot, and didn't want to wait for it to come out of the box and get assembled before he rode it. 

So many ways I can see that my little man has grown so much in one year. He walks, he talks, he launches himself off of every possible surface that is more than one inch above the ground (the higher the better). He has a head full of curly blond hair! And, he cuts up his own food. Quite a big difference from his decapitation of the dragon cake last year. 

A Visit from Aunt Jojo

My sister just (well, a week ago) left us from a glorious ten day visit.

I didn't realize how lonely I get until I had her with me for a whole ten days.

It's not just the loneliness that comes with being a stay-at-home mom. It's just living here, isolated, away from family, away from friends I've had since... forever. With a time difference that makes talking to people sometimes difficult to line up, and everyone (myself included) having fairly busy lives, so contact is limited even more.

So it's lonely here. But I don't notice HOW lonely until I have someone with me. Especially a WOMAN someone. Especially my SISTER.

It was a great visit. And I miss her terribly.

Mmmm. Wallaby.

We did a lot of the typical stuff with her that we do with all our visitors who stay long enough to do things with. Local wildlife at Wings Wildlife Park, ice cream, multitudes of honey and bees at Melita Honey Farm aka The Honey Place, fudge and coffee at Fudge n' Good Coffee, fish n chips, the beach (not together this time... because of naps and rain and mostly naps), being inside an I-spy picture at Reliquaire, and sampling local or national foods and drinks at random places very close to us. Including a wallaby my brother-in-law shot for us that I brined for a few days and roasted (best tasting wallaby I have EVER made).

Joanna had a benefit none of our other guests have had, though. I have my Australian drivers licence (because my permanent resident visa was approved, Yay! It's a long long story, that one), and finally feel (sort of) comfortable driving around myself. On the wrong side of very narrow roads.

Playing with Aunt Jojo in his "hole".
It is not a slide, it is a hole.

Of course, since she's family, Joanna spent a TON of time with her nephew. And Simon soaked it up. He adores his "Aaa Joooo" (Aunt Jo). His thought process probably went something like this: "Someone to play with me, make noises, color, is completely at my beck and call? And is closer to my height than Mama and Daddy? I LOVE YOU!" He loves her so much, in fact, that when she left, he kept asking where she was, and has, for 5 days now, thrown MASSIVE tantrums at dinner time (his time to process why his new favorite person is no longer with him). How do I know it's over Joanna leaving? I don't 100%. But after about 15 minutes of screaming, crying, and flailing he scarfs down his food quite happily (including broccoli and kale), so it's not a food issue.

Wings Wildlife: Where you can pat and feed
kangaroos.
It. Is. AWESOME.

Joanna (and all of us) got to pat the baby Devil!

Who needs to pat a baby Tasmanian Devil?
Simon has LEAVES.
Because those are rare...

Simon being cheeky with the wonderful woman who was
giving talks and letting us pat the animals.

We all got to pat Doug,
the most adorable baby wombat EVER.

I thought a bird this large would be SCARY.
Nope, like me, he LOVES the emu!
He tried to share his water with it.

We miss you Joanna! We were so glad to have you visit us!

Hike to Westmorland Falls

This past weekend was a very busy one for us. It was labor day weekend in Tassie, which meant three day weekend! Three days Phillip had off work to spend with Simon and me.

But since an old friend/my sister-in-law's now-fiancée-but-over-the-weekend-was-her-boyfriend was visiting, there were extended family outings planned. Which turned in to just the two of them, us three, and my mother-in-law, for a hike to Westmorland Falls. Then an "only our little family" outing to   Steam Fest, but that's fodder for another post.

Playing with a new texture: moss

Hiking with a toddler is... interesting. This was a fairly easy hike. Not flat, but not a whole lot of steep inclines that can be typical of hiking paths around here. But it was not stroller or pram friendly at all. Thankfully, Simon seems to have even more energy than your average 1.5 year old, and wanted, and was able to, walk most of the 2+ hour hike. The only parts he didn't walk were the parts we deemed to steep and slippery for him, or when we walked very close to water or over bridges. And he fought us the whole time to get down and walk himself.

A little over an hour of walking and we reached the main falls. It was beautiful. While us adults find such things calming and want to relax for a bit by them enjoying the beauty, our little toddler wanted to keep waking and exploring (no tired feet or little legs on this one, let's keep moving!). Phillip was kind enough to take him tramping through some mud and bushes so I could take photos.

Throwing leaves off the bridge on the way to the falls

The walk back was slightly more relaxed. Simon walked nearly the whole way back, complaining, again, at any assistance given so he didn't tumble head over heels down steep embankments. I ended up with an excruciatingly sore knee (no idea why) and a bad blister because I stepped in water while taking photos.

It was a lovely walk though, and we'd love to do it again!

The end result of over two hours of walking

Simon was pooped at the end of the walk, but somehow not utterly exhausted. He napped for a solid 40 minutes in the car, woke up, and ran some more.

I don't wonder why I'm so tired at the end of every day, any more. This child needs this level of activity every day to keep him happy and sane!

A Mere Meter Away

I'm paranoid about snakes in Australia.

My first year living here, I had several encounters with them. (You can refresh your memory about them here, here, and here.)

So I look out for them when I take Simon out. And we go outside every day, weather permitting. Being that its summer, we're outside quite a bit taking walks under the gum trees, sometimes down to the (dried up) stream.

But I look. Closely. And really, snakes don't like people. They don't WANT to be around people. They're probably there, watching us walk, I'm sure, all the time. But they want to stay out of the way, and that is good for both parties.

Except yesterday.

Yesterday, even though I was watching for them, immediately after set Simon down to walk on his own, I saw it.

A meter away from me. Camouflaged perfectly in the gum bark strewn across the grass.

A meter-long, jet black tiger snake.

And my child only just out of reach, apparently having just walked past it!

I called him to me (and have never been more grateful for the training Phillip put in to teaching him to come when he's called while we're outside!), grabbed him by his arms, yanked him up, and started to gently run backwards.

Sounds weird, yes. But I'm trying to get my child and myself away from this snake in as non-threatening yet quick a way as possible.

The snake flattened out it's neck almost cobra-style (yes, they do that), glanced at me, and quickly slithered in the opposite direction into some brambles surrounding a nearby tree.

I ran into the house, sat down, shaking, hugging and kissing Simon, crying.

Oye...

Finding Some Beauty Through The Pain

Just before Simon was born, I asked for, and was given, a spot and date to exhibit my paintings.

I naively thought that newborns slept a lot. I was also unaware of how much pregnancy really exhausts me beyond any other kind of exhaustion I've ever experienced, including sleepless nights with a newborn.

A few months before I was meant to bring in my paintings, I admitted to myself it just wasn't going to happen, told the shop owner, and left the dream for another day, when I had a firmer grasp on this motherhood thing or more help at home, giving me time to paint.

And then I was pregnant again. And really really sick. And exhausted again. All. The. Time. With a toddler on top of it.

And then Ben was born. And I had no newborn keeping me up, or busy with feedings and holdings all day. And I have a fairly independent toddler who naps regularly and sleeps very well at night.

Now, I still don't really have a firm grasp on motherhood (but I've gotten good at faking it, and I think I'm a pretty terrific mom), and have the same amount of help around the house as before. But I have time, energy, and grief to work with now. And I needed... SOMETHING... to work towards. Some little way of moving forward instead of just stagnating.

So I asked again if I could show my paintings.

And they said yes. In March if I was up to it.

So I have been working my butt off the last few weeks painting every night and at Simon's nap time.

It doesn't mean I'm OK. It doesn't mean I'm "over it" and have worked through the grief of losing my son. But it does mean I can still be involved in something I enjoy. And that I can still find beauty through the pain (I may or may not have partially been inspired to take the big step of actually committing to do this by an episode of Dr. Who...*). And having that goal has helped me see past the pain and work with it.

It took a lot of thinking and praying to commit to this, honestly. Not only am I so overwhelmed by feelings sometimes that just getting out of bed and making sure Simon is fed, clean, and not in danger of jumping head-first off things is a massive effort, but this would be/is real work. That I am committed to someone else to have finished.

Then there is all this guilt. Stupid, stupid guilt over having free time. Because I SHOULDN'T. I shouldn't have the time or energy to be painting at night or in the afternoons. So while every painting I finish is a triumph, a little "yay me! I'm doing things!", it is followed quickly by the thought "this is just wrong". And working with that takes effort, too, because at first I couldn't do anything because of it. Now the wrongness is changing to, "well, life is just wrong and not how it should be, without my second son, but I can work with it, and through it, and try to accept the wrongness as just a part of a "normal" life".

*I do NOT compare myself to Van Gough. I am a ridiculous amateur who is half decent with a brush, not a master of putting color and light and emotion on canvas. 

Christmas:2014

Yes I'm posting this a bit late. I have reasons. Which will come in the next post. Also in this one. 

Christmas was an interesting combination of fun, relaxed, and heart-wrenchingly painful.

It was Simon's second Christmas and, at 19 months, he still doesn't GET it, but was old enough to actually enjoy opening gifts and playing with them. 

Reading Miki by Stephen Mackey

For 10 minutes. Then he discovered wrapping paper and boxes and the same stuff he takes out of the kitchen cupboards every day.

And while seeing him SUPER excited to open up his new cars and trucks was quite fun, when he put those off to the side because he opened up the books we'd gotten him while we were in Hobart, and sat on his daddy's lap for 15 minutes asking to be read to, my heart swelled with pride and melted a little bit. Because my child loves books! And I don't know that there is anything he can do at this age that would make me prouder.

It was so nice to have a quiet Christmas morning, just the three of us. To enjoy Simon's happiness and at the same time remember that we should have had little Ben with us, too, to share toys with, and kisses, and have pictures of his first Christmas. And we needed that quiet time together, the three of us, to remember, to cry, to laugh, and to prepare for the big family Christmas day with everyone from my husband's side of the family. 

HAM!
We love ham.

The night before I'd made a really nice Christmas Eve dinner of ham and veggies. And home-made cooked egg nog. Oh. My. YUM. We ate leftover cold ham for breakfast with, what is becoming kind of a tradition for us, fresh, flaky biscuits and eggs. We try to keep it small because Christmas lunch with my husband's family tends to be HUGE. And then they eat the leftovers cold for dinner. It's quite delicious.

No gingerbread house or TARDIS this year. Just plain cookies.

I tried adding to it, at least for immediate family members and some choice friends, anyway, by baking gifts this year. A combination of gingerbread, almond roca, and some chocolate chip cookie dough truffles (I can't choose a favorite. They were all fantastic to, um, taste-test...). I let Simon "help" me this year. Since gingerbread dough has no egg in it, I thought he could play with some of the dough while I made the cookies. Turns out, Simon LOVES gingerbread (he now ASKS for it yelling "Dindinbeh!") and immediately stuffed the bits of dough in his mouth and yelled for more. So, not wanting a toddler hyped up on sugar, I put a stop to his "helping" and gave him rice puffs instead. Later, he learned the art of stealing cookies while I am distracted frosting them. Was he helpful? No. Was it annoying? No. I decided when I started that I was going to enjoy the time with him no matter what. We spent time together doing things. Well worth loosing some gingerbread and time baking to make the memories I now have of him!

Bites of heaven.
I mean eggless chocolate chip cookie dough truffles.

This year was honestly probably the most relaxed and nice Christmas we've been to. 

Except that by the end, I had had more than enough socializing and pretending that I was ok. Because I wasn't. The one and only time I mentioned Ben's name and being in the hospital was during a legitimate story I was asked about (why Simon was running around singing, "Die Die Die!". It's from the song Dumb Ways to Die, which I had on my tablet the first time we were in the hospital waiting for scan results and ran out of ways to entertain Simon. So we let him watch it and he is kind of obsessed with it now). The people listening actually turned away from me. I mean legitimately turned their backs and stopped looking at me. To say it was hurtful would be downplaying what that felt like. It was one of those moments where I was tempted to yell "I DON'T HAVE A DISEASE!". I get that I am the face of pain to them right now, and they don't know what to do, but really, it was probably one of the worst things they could have done. Well, that, and ignore me. Which they did too. It was super fun, let me tell you...

You can use tractors and trucks to make cookies.
Right?

But Simon had fun. And that made most of it worth it. And by the end of the night, at home with Simon in bed, sitting with Phillip, a glass of wine, and watching Elf (after shedding copious amounts of tears, because you can't cry while watching Elf. It's too funny), I could say it was a nice Christmas with my little family. 

Silent No More

A fair warning to anyone who reads this blog: I will talk about my dead son.

Apparently, the fact that I HAVE a dead son and mourn his loss makes people uncomfortable.

The fact that I am slowly gaining the strength and courage to actually talk about him, and the trauma of loosing him, makes people more uncomfortable.

And so I warn you, I will not be silent about it. It is a fact and a pain that permeates every facet of our lives now. And I will not ignore it. 

And if that bothers you, stop reading. Stop following. 

I tell you this not to spare your feelings, not to make you less comfortable. Because I don't care about your feelings right now.

I care about mine. 

I care about my husband's.

And we have, in a short time, already been very very hurt by people who feel uncomfortable around our grief that, even if we tried to hide it, pours from us. 

And we no longer have time for that. We no longer have time for people who want us to stay silent because it might upset them more and because THEY feel uncomfortable.

We lost a child. If YOU feel uncomfortable, think about how we feel. WE now get to deal with this loss, with our feelings,  in what way we choose. YOU get to choose a new way.

And if you are among those that have rallied around us in prayer, thoughts, and kind words...

Thank you. You have given comfort in ways that you can not imagine. 

An Unexpected Goodbye

Today Phillip and I buried our second born, a son, Bennet.

He was born on October 21, stillborn. 4lbs 7ozs. With beautiful dark hair.

I haven't even reached my due date yet, November 28th.

I was only 33 weeks and a few days when he stopped moving normally and we went into the hospital one night, thinking, hoping, it was nothing.

But for reasons yet and maybe always unknown, our baby boy had had a massive brain hemorrhage, multiple and continuing we would find out later after being flown to Hobart for the emergency c-section that never happened because there was nothing that could be done for our little boy. Our Bennet.

Something about an ongoing development that caused it, something not seen on the 20 week scan. Something we could do nothing about. Something that would have taken his life sooner rather than later regardless of what we or the doctors did.

And I am completely and utterly heartbroken. And numb. And want to and need to write more, but I can't. Not just yet. Because I still can hardly say and believe the words "I have lost a son". Because my womb, my arms, are so very empty, and a grave that is so so tiny is full.

Special Saturday

Last weekend was the first Saturday we had without any obligations whatsoever in... neither Phillip nor I can remember when the last Saturday was. Several months at least. But Friday night, both of us say down, tired, cranky, realizing we hadn't had time as a family, just the three of us, in ages. Doing something fun, getting out of the house. Spending time TOGETHER.

And we were suffering for it. Simon was cranky, tired of being in the house, and missing spending time with his daddy, I was cranky, overworked, overwhelmed, and suffering from some major cabin fever, and Philip was overworked, listless, tired, and somewhat aloof because of it.

So we erased from our minds all the many many chores that needed doing, all the little extra cleaning and organizing projects that have piled up due to outside-the-house obligations and general taking care of a toddler business, made an agreement to ignore all texts and invites, and make plans for the day for just the three of us.

It was wonderful.

We did our normal special Saturday morning breakfast, which is really just something different from what we usually would eat throughout the week, and took it fairly easy and relaxed for the morning. It was, amazingly enough, a warmish and sunny day for winter, so we packed a simple lunch of peanut butter sandwiches and fruit, and left for Turner's beach for the afternoon.

Thankfully, the tide was out so there was a massive stretch of well-packed, not too wet sand for Simon to run around on like a crazy person. He loved it. He loved it even more when strangers walked by with their dogs, and he noticed that their were sea gulls. And that there were rocks he could throw. And that the world was so BIG. We didn't do much more than walk up and down the beach talking and watching Simon take everything in and enjoy himself, which was enjoyment enough for Phillip and me.

Chill dude wearing his Aunt Jojo's old sunglasses

Our one decent family photo in AGES

The fall looks worse than it was.
(Which is why I crack up every time I look at it)
He got right back up smiling and running around.

Look Mommy! I found a rock!

Found out he could throw rocks over things.

He read the whole way home.
This is his standard car activity.

On the drive home, after two hours of playing and eating, Philip and I talked about how... FUN the afternoon had been. How nice it was too just be our family, to relax together, and how important we both feel it is that we continue to do things like this together. Simon has such a natural love of the outdoors, and we want so much to encourage that. We want our children to have fun memories (or at least feelings of) little family outings. Nothing big, nothing expensive, just... us.

A Bit Lacking

It's not that I don't have words. I have plenty of words. Its not that I don't have time either, honestly, because I can make time. I just don't have the energy to write much of anything lately.

I don't even remember how far behind I am in my emailing.

We're expecting baby number two. Sometime November-December. I know I know, I'm VERY late announcing it here. But first of all, I like to do the 'wait 3 months before you tell' thing, and secondly, the first 4 months of this pregnancy were rough. Not as rough as some people have it, most definitely, but still, rough. I'm still having trouble reminding myself to eat (anything but cookies and ice-cream... Which we don't have around the house anyway. Oh, and potato chips).

So between the morning sickness that never ended, pregnancy induced exhaustion, regular looking after a toddler exhaustion, and taking care of basic household needs like laundry and food, I'm physically spent by the time I wake up in the morning.

And my homesickness increases exponentially when I'm pregnant apparently, and Simon has decided to act like a little minion from hell half the day the last few weeks, so add to that emotionally spent.

So by the end of the day (or during nap time, if that even happened) all I want to do is sit and veg. No writing, no emailing, no painting or knitting. Just veg. Or Pinterest. Which is kind of the same thing.

So forgive me, if you still read this. I have words, I have LOTS of words.

Just not the energy.

First Birthday's and Dragons

Wow, I now have ONE-year-old.

Crazy.

Time went by pretty fast (though, at the time, seemed to draaaaag). I can honestly say that, now, I really truly enjoy being a mother. I have next to no idea what I'm doing, if any idea at all, really, but I really enjoy it now at LEAST 99.9% of the time (I'd still really enjoy sleeping in too). The first 5 months or so, I couldn't say that. It was hard, learning that taking care of this thankless, selfish, crying little adorable person was my job now. That what I WANTED to do (and sometimes needed to do) didn't matter so much as making sure this little persons needs were met, that he was loved and well cared for first before myself or housework got taken care of. Learning that I was a VERY selfish person who wanted what I wanted was hard, giving that up is harder (and a daily if not hourly task). Now though? I really do enjoy it. Simon is one fun kid. And there is no way to explain how much I absolutely love and adore him. How much I have from the very beginning, even with all the frustrations and learnings.

Seriously, though. This kid is hilarious. I love him. And Phillip and I wanted to throw him a super cool party for his first birthday. Problem is, we know all of like, four people that aren't family )ok, it's slightly more than that, but you get the picture). And neither of us are big PARTY people, nor have we been feeling extremely well lately (Phillip with a cold, me with other things), and also, Simon is only one. I mean, it's a big deal, but really? Not huge one. But still, I love a good birthday party, I love kid birthday parties, and Pintrest makes it WAAAAY to easy to find far too many fun ideas to do for kid birthday parties.

THIS is what you could buy. They've come
out with nicer ones with the second movie coming out soon, though.

So we decided on a "How To Train Your Dragon" theme, because we both love the movie, and Simon is too young to choose what he wants. Also, we wanted to get him a Toothless plush toy for Christmas, but couldn't find nice ones online (they were fairly hideous), and I happened to find a super cute and easy tutorial on how to make your own that actually looked like the movie character, instead of something that wanted to eat your soul. And I really wanted to make it. So really, we selfishly chose a theme WE wanted, but were pretty sure Simon would look back at photos and think "my parents weren't so bad, this is kinda neat".

THIS is the home-made Toothless.
So much cuter. And the tutorial was fairly easy to follow too! 

Toothless took a few nights of sewing, once Simon was in bed, and I ended up using a small K-Mart fleece blanket for the material, because after checking fabric and craft stores for WEEKS, we couldn't find black fleece anywhere that would suite for this project. If was either ridiculously cheap, and would pill and come apart after one good play, or overly fuzzy (and remarkably expensive). I ended up using super cheap K-Mart pillows for stuffing, too (K-Mart is the Australian Walmart equivalent, only with worse quality in a lot of things). Fabric and craft stores around here are just way overpriced and under stocked. I miss Hobby Lobby. The ONLY part I had trouble understanding in the Toothless  tutorial was sewing the tail fin. I left a whole side open because I didn't look at the diagram properly, and realized you only sew the TIP of it into the tail, not the side. Made for a more impressively long dragon once it was done, and it only took me five minutes to cut out and sew a new fin (seam ripping black stitches on black fleece was more work than I wanted to do, and I had enough scraps to do another fin easy).

Pintrest led to more ideas on food, which I narrowed down to a dragon cake and some Viking ship sandwiches. Partly because I love to play with cake decorating (though it was much harder with my lack of proper materials here) and it was an excuse to do Big Sandwich, which had the added benefit of... sort of... including my family in things, since it's something my Aunt/Uncle/cousins made a lot when I would go over. It was at least a reminder that we're thinking of them, and that they're still a part of our lives, even if they couldn't be here for the event <tear>. Then I made some paper mache "dragon eggs" as favours. They had little candy bars inside, and were made mostly to entertain the kids we invited. Unfortunately, the cold/flu that has been making its rounds amongst.. everyone... made it so that the only kids that came were Phillip's two younger cousins. Actually, the only people that could make it to the party were Phillip's family.

Despite the lack of children, it was a really good time. And everything turned out really well. And tasty. And Simon seemed to have a really good time. Though, honestly, he has a good time anywhere unless he is sick, hungry, or tired. Sadly, Simon and I came down with the nasty cold Phillip had, for a while, the day after the party, and are still working on recovering.

Food!
Night Fury cake and Viking ship sandwiches.
Family brought mostly deserts to share, so we were
a bit hyped up on sugar afterwards. 

Simon ate the dragon's head with much gusto.

Getting his very own dragon!
I think I love the fact that it's as big as him more than he does.

Stylish Little Bum

We do cloth diapers here in our household.

Sorry, cloth NAPPIES.

I try to be, what Phillip and I call, bilingual, speaking Australian and American, because sometimes people have no clue what I'm talking about, or it just takes too long to catch on to what words or phrases mean. Anyway...

We do cloth diapers.

I LOVE them. I mean love love love them. They are brilliant. And beautiful. And fantastic. I can't rave enough about them.

Mommy is more excited about the arrival
of a new stash of diapers than Simon

Most people assume, when you say you cloth diaper, that you do it for the environment (also that you want to use those old towel-diaper-nappies that are really just that: a small towel you fold and pin onto baby's bottom). Psh. I do it because it saves money. Most of our research showed that, for one baby, for one year, it costs between $500-800 to use disposables. One year, excluding wipes. We bought modern cloth diapers that will last us at least until Little Wubba is 3 for that much (baring replacing elastic, which is easy enough to do). So we're saving approximately that much until he's three, which means we can put it towards all the food he now eats and uses to fill those pretty diapers. Even with washing the diapers every two days, the price is still lower overall than buying disposables.

I mean, you can get decent ones even cheaper than that, but we learned from experience that it's worth it to splurge a bit and get really nice ones. Our first batch was dirt cheap, and some started leaking through the PUL (waterproof fabric) after 4 months.

Which meant I got to order new ones! We ended up splurging on the Cadillac of modern cloth diapers, some bumGenius's. And some Lotus Bumz and Sweat Peas we got on sale through various websites.

So, I love these cloth diapers. Why? They save money, but mostly because they are ab-so-LUTELY adorable. Even the plain colored ones are super cute. They're so cute and sturdy that, this summer, he's just been scooting around in his diaper, while still looking like I took the time to dress him. (Insta-outfit!) And, since we got ones that snap, they don't come off NEARLY as easy as disposable diapers do. He can pick at those snaps out of curiosity all he wants, they will not come undone unless I want them to.

The kid? Cute. The diaper? Matches the cuteness.

Speaking of the snaps, poop. My mommy friends (and parents) have experienced what we like to call "poop-splosions". It's when a baby poops and it somehow avoids the diaper. And goes EVERYWHERE ELSE. Up the back, down the legs, around their arms, EVERYWHERE. Modern cloth diapers? Nope. Has not happened. The only time I (and my other cloth-diapering mommy friend) have had that happen was we used disposables. On the plane trip. In his bassinet. GROSS. Cloth leaks, true, when it's full. So yeah, poo leaks. A LEAK. Tiny little bits of leaks very occasionally. But those snaps are like little padlocks for the poo, and keep it completely in the diaper (unless the diaper was already very full of wee when poop happens).

Also, we have to take our own trash to the dump. So the less stuff we throw in the trash, the fewer trips Phillip has to make with a car loaded with smelly trash to the dump.

The bad with cloth?

This is not bad. This is adorable.
This is a minky diaper we got as a gift. It is adorable and fantastic.
And also has different absorbing inserts for boys and girls!

They're sometimes more likely to leak if you don't get to them in time, or if you've been washing them poorly. You get a disposable diaper and, to quote my friend, you can put a water balloon in those things and they will soak it all up. Cloth needs to be changed more often. And nighttime? You need either a special night diaper, more liners to stuff in them for more absorbency, or other things that can help that cost money.

Also, you have to clean them. It's gross. Especially once they start solids. Poop, even baby poop, is still poop. You get used to it, but it's still poop. You can't just chuck that stuff in the washing machine. I just try to remind myself it could be worse, and it's still saving money. And the adorableness and reusableness of the diapers makes it worth it.

But it's still yucky.

Cloth swim diapers? Also adorable.

The thing I did end up switching to mostly because I noticed a difference in Simon's skin was disposable to reusable wipes. Only, our reusable wipes are just cheap baby wash cloths and not the kind you can buy for a lot of money. I figured we were washing diapers already anyway, why not wipes? I tried it (mixed up my own wipe solution of baby bath wash, sweet almond or olive oil, lavender and tea tree oil, and some chamomile tea in water) and really did notice a difference in Simon's "nappy area" not looking as irritated as when we use disposable wipes.

The Big Flight

The flight from Tasmania to Chicago is something between 20 and 23 hours, depending on wind speed and all that. The long flight ranges from 13.5 to 16 hours. Add layovers in and you have upwards of 30 hours of travel time.

It's awful when you have to do it on your own, as an adult. Imagine taking a baby on it.

Honestly, on your own, after the first 5 hours or so on the long flight, your body just gives in to the discomfort, relaxes a bit, and it's not so bad until you get to the last 4 hours, when you want to climb out of your skin. You chill out, watch movies, read, maybe even manage some sleep. There is no relaxing and tuning out to a movie when you have a baby with you. Thankfully the plane had a bassinet we could use that pulled out of the wall, so Simon was able to lay down to sleep a little, and we could get a bit of a break from holding him. Still, the trip was hard. And that's a bit of an understatement.

It was made somewhat nicer by Simon being remarkably well behaved and very interested in all the new people. And being complimented by fellow passengers on how cute and well behaved Simon was. Compliments on your child help make lots of situations better.

I've been asked if, after all that, the flight, the sleepless nights because of lack of routine for Simon
, the tired aching body from carrying a child all the time, the drop dead fatigue, would I recommend traveling with a baby, or would I do it again. My answer?

Yes.

It was worth every bit of discomfort and pain to see my family and friends again. And I would do it again in a heartbeat.