Overheard, 12:50pm

Turner, singing to Sloane in the front hallway:

"You're gonna give your father / Chronic back pain / Because you demand to be / Danced around the house / Don't put me down! / You say ..."

For those of you who have heard Turner sing, you'll understand the miracle involved in Sloane's fondness for these ditties.. but go figure, give Turner five minutes and she's out cold.

Categories: Dad-ness | Sloane

Comments [1]

Baby Smell Gooood

INT: Ash and Turner, wandering around the house post-Sloane's-afternoon-bath, picking up the livingroom

Ash: (faintly) ...The baby smell is a nice compensation, eh?

Turner: (looking up from rocking Sloane) ...For what?

A: For... (looking around, sort of at a confused loss) all the mess...

T: ...And the sleep deprivation and the disorganization and all the laundry and the unpredictable noise and disruption and the episiotomy discomfort...?

A: Yeah. All that.

T: Aside from the love.

A: Yeah, aside from the love. The smell is a nice bonus.  

Categories: Dad-ness | Mom-ness | Sloane

Comments [0]

Sloane's First Bath

Roll up yer sleeves! Today Sloane's umbilical cord stump fell off and we wasted no time before sloshing her into her first bath (team effort).

Heeeerrrre we go!

Granny Val does the hair washing off the top, to demonstrate how it's done

Wipe, wipe, wipe

Then, into the Tummy Tub (a Dutch invention meant to simulate the amniotic experience, purchased at the consignment store for 1/4 of the retail price: cheers to consignment!). Here we see Ash in full post-labour convalescence attire, complete with velour bathrobe from The Collection.

At first, the bath was fun. Hurray! Back in the womb!

But by the end, Sloane'd had enough. We couldn't hear much over the screaming, but I was sure there was something in there about how she liked the hooded towel.

Categories: Mom-ness | Sloane

Comments [18]

Granny Val

"This worked for me": When giving birth, have your mom come to stay for a few weeks.

Categories: Sloane

Comments [0]

Turner Swaddles

Turner shows our "Baby and Beyond" class a thing or two about swaddling a baby (turns out there were a few better ways... we've since adopted another method, demonstrated afterward).

Categories: Dad-ness | Sloane

Comments [0]

A Word About Episiotomies

Even one week later: Ow.

Categories: Mom-ness

Comments [0]

Sloane At Week One

Sloane's editorial comment on her first week out in the wide world: I spent 20 hours tunnelling out of the womb for this?

(Tune in on Saturdays for Sloane's Pictoral Week In Review)

Categories: Mom-ness | Sloane

Comments [11]

The Bringer Of Light

I have a well-founded fear of electricity. I'm one of those people - if there's an electrical shock to be had in any environment, I'm the one who'll be zapped. In was once thrown across a bathroom in the Philippines by an electrical shock; in Asia water heaters sometimes come in the form of a box attached to the water pipes leading to the showerhead. Water passes through the box and over a heated coil. I had gotten into the shower and was fully wet, in bare feet, when I reached up to adjust the showerhead pivot... and the next thing I remember was coming to on the floor beside the toilet, screaming. (I guess the heater wasn't grounded. The people at the hotel desk said they'd never had a problem with that shower... shuurrrre.) Another time I managed to get a terrible shock from our toaster in Shimla, a trusty appliance that our servant used daily with no difficulty for years and years. As far as I remember on that one I just put in some bread and pushed the tray down using the plastic handle, and the next thing I knew I was on the other side of the kitchen with my hand on fire (not literally). I get shocks getting in and out of the car (a 2003 Honda Civic with no known electrical problems), selecting milk from the grocery store chiller, and from the neighbour's cats. I'm a human lightning rod, and I accept my limits accordingly.

In any case, my healthy fear of (and attendant respect for) electricity means that any and all home renovation involving lights, light switches, electrical sockets, or wiring of any description gets allocated to the professionals. And yes, that nearly means that when we change light switch covers I've got one shaky finger on the speed dial to the local electrician, just waiting for something to go wrong. Since I learned long ago that me and electricity aren't friends, I basically steer clear of all things electrical other than the simple stuff like turning on lights so I don't trip in the dark. But, my fear of being electrocuted now extends to Turner, who, despite having never displayed a propensity for being shocked, isn't allowed to touch anything electrical in our house with an eye to renovation or improvement. (Enh, fear is irrational, n'est-ce pas?) We'll sit in the dark and wait for the repairman, thanks.

Now, our basement has this old counter with a sink that was once part of a crappy suite kitchen. When we blitzkreiged the basement in the pre-Sloane days of January and February 2005, we decided that this counter would be perfect as a laundry/gardening area. It would be a place for us to lay out those "lay flat to dry" clothes (pain in the bum, them), and somewhere I could re-pot plants and start seedlings without getting potting soil and rooting fertilizer all over the kitchen (I know what you're thinking and stop it right now, we are not running a grow op. I am an accomplished indoor gardener, a hobby I inherited fair and square from Green Thumb Val.). The counter was exactly right for these purposes. ...Except. Except that it didn't have a light above it.

Now, we had a spare fluorescent light fixture kicking around the basement, and a few months ago our trusty neighbour Cheryle pointed out that we could install it above the sink. Said that it was easy to install a fluorescent light fixture. That we could do it ourselves without a problem. "Uhhh... yeah," sez I, picturing Turner and I in dual demise, twitching on the floor of the basement. A job for a real electrician, right? Well, no. We'd run out of money for frivolities like "illumination". So we put it off - no siren emergency on this project, there were plenty of other things to do around the house, getting ready for the baby's arrival.

...But every time I went down the basement I was haunted: the light, the light, the light above the sink, the light above the sink. It was the only part of the basement that hadn't been organized to within an inch of its life. The laundry was still laying flat to dry all over the house upstairs, and there were still sprinkly bits of soil on the kitchen floor. Oh, jeez... something needed to be done, but damned if we were going to put in that light ourselves, no sir.

And then: Sloane was born, and Mike came from Nakusp. Mike, previously a baker, previously an aerobics instructor, currently a family support counsellor for the Arrow and Slocan Lakes Community Services, is my mom's partner and our stepdad. According to all reports, Mike didn't have a fricken clue about any kind of home renovation, machinery repair, landscaping upkeep or general basic rural survival prior to his move to Nakusp a mere nine years ago. But living on 40 acres of wilderness will do wonders for your resourcefulness, it seems. Because when you live on 40 acres of wilderness in a wood-heated home, and have your own water source, and have to plow your own 200m driveway, and need to evict 600 endangered bats from your attic, and are roped into judging the Miss Arrow Lakes Pageant on a yearly basis, ...well, you find yourself either rising to the challenge, or getting the hell out. Nine years later Mike's still there, which tells you something.

And tells us something, too, right? Yep - Mike, man of the hour, was the man for the job. Did Mike have any experience putting in fluorescent light fixtures (or light fixtures of any kind)? He did not. Did he decide he would try to put in the fluorescent light fixture anyway? Yes he did. Did he manage to initially install it and then find there was no way to turn it on? Yes indeed. Did he go right ahead and figure out how to fix that problem? Also, yes.

Tah-dah!

Just goes to show that with a bit of determination, the willingness to fiddle around with electricity (wearing rubber-soled work boots), and the humility to acquiesce to the greater wisdom of those at Home Depot (did you know that they'll walk you through stuff over the telephone?), basements everywhere can be better-lit places. Me, I'm still scared shitless of electricity - but cheers to Mike, bringer of light!

Categories: Family | House

Comments [1]

New Mom Soundtrack

Couple of songs've been rammed-stuck in my head since last Saturday...

I Think That I Would Die by Hole:

I want my baby / Where is the baby / I want my baby / Who took the baby

Not that I think Courteney Love is any kind of mother to model myself after, but there you go. You can't pick the songs that get stuck. My favourite among stories of this phenomenon is the one that found Turner singing Whitney Houston's "I'm Every Woman" in the shower.

Mass Romantic by The New Pornographers:

Everyone wants to say "I love you" / To someone on the radio, radio

There is no relation to parenthood whatsoever on this one. I don't even know most of the lyrics, and by the time I was fully conscious of being haunted by the intro and chorus (Monday or so) I had to ask Turner who the hell did the song (complete with that duh-duh-dah!-dah-dah style unintelligible humming and singing thing in an attempt to help him identify it).

And, ever since we named her, Hairdresser On Fire, by Morrissey:

And you're always busy / Really busy / Busy busy / Oh, hairdresser on fire / All around Sloane Square

As regarding the whole naming-her-Sloane business, this just in from John J:

I think you've chosen a beautiful name but I have to say I was a bit shocked when I first saw it! I feel very awkward but I do feel honour-bound to mention that Sloane is a word with some rather negative connotations in the UK: comes from the 80s phenomenon of "Sloane Rangers", a well to do, preppy set whose spiritual home in London was Sloane Square. ...But it is a really beautiful name so what the hell!

Seems to me that it's a bit like the whole bizarre anti-"Nigel" thing going on in the UK. A perfectly good name in one place may have disasterous geeky unintentional overtones somewhere else. Or, in the case of "Sloane", a whole Lady-Di-prior-to-the-engagement/ladies-who-lunch sort of UK implication about which in Canada we remain (mostly) blissfully ignorant. So, my reply:

I should tell you that in the end we agreed on Sloane but that it was Turner's choice (I chose the potential boy's name - Ivan, so fair is fair); I liked the name but my only real anti-"Sloane" argument came from exactly what you said about the Sloane Rangers, which I knew about from you from long ago. But I explained it to Turner, who quite sanely pointed out that "we're not British, we don't plan on being British, so who gives a shit whether they're Sloane Rangers. It still doesn't change the fact that we like the name," a nice bit of paraphrasing from the film.

Categories: Mom-ness | Sloane

Comments [1]

Photo Project: Child The First

Soon to come, Sloane's Birth Story from the labouring-mother's-point-of-view (that's me! The mother, I mean).

But for now, a few highlights from the zillions of photos we've taken over the last three days (...four days? I think I'm delerious.):

Proud Gramps, aka Dr. Bruce

A thumbsucker!!

Getting ready to leave hospital, Sunday afternoon

Cousin Tan-Tan holds the newest member of the extended Bristowe Cousinry, during the Sunday night Welcome Home Sushi Party

Day Three (Monday), 4:30am: early morning singalong with Granny Val, featuring Old Macdonald Had A Farm

Turner holding Sloane while the public health nurse does the PKU heel blood test

We suspect that Granny Val and Papa Mike wish the world had adult-sized swingomatics

Just what we wanted: a squalling new addition!

Categories: Family | Sloane

Comments [4]

Ask For Her By Name

(Turner here, posting disguised as Ash while Ash tries to coax our dear daughter into slurping down a full meal.)

We've got a name. Or, rather, our daughter has a name, which we selected:

Sloane Lantau Bristowe Turner

Okay, yes, we know it sounds a bit like Calgary's leading law firm ("Here at Sloane, Lantau, Bristowe & Turner, we understand the unique legal issues facing the modern oil & gas industry"). But we like it and we don't care. Plus she'll go by Sloane Turner (or Sloane L. B. Turner or Sloane L. Bristowe Turner) most of the time, which all sound considerably less like she'll have that brief ready for you by next week.

The first name - Sloane - was suggested by accidental-reader-of-this-blog Rob Williamson of Ohio in a post you can read for yourself here. He got it from Ferris Bueller's Day Off, which just happens to be one of my favourite movies (and Ash quite likes it too). That wasn't what sold us on it, though; what sold us on it was that it was the first girl's name that we both had the same initial I-like-that-a-lot reaction to.

The first middle name - Lantau - is a placename that frequent Asian travellers may recognize as the island on which Hong Kong's international airport is located. We'd had it picked out for months. We passed through Hong Kong airport a few times on our Pacific Rim book tour, and it repeatedly proved itself to be an auspicious place for us and then-just-a-fetus Sloane. The first time, on a layover en route to Auckland, Sloane gave her first good kick at the baggage carousel. A few weeks later, passing back through on our way from Kuala Lumpur to Vancouver, there was a rinpoche (high-ranking Tibetan monk, roughly equivalent to a bishop) at the next gate, with a retinue of other Tibetan monks attending. Ash and I, having spent quite a bit of time around Tibetans in our time in India, knew he'd be happy to give mother and baby a blessing, which he happily did.

Second middle name - Bristowe - needs very little explanation, except to note that the last-name debate was itself long and protracted and only settled a few weeks ago. Ash was in favour of the girls taking one last name and the boys taking another. So Sloane'd be a Bristowe, and if we had a boy a couple years down the road, he'd be a Turner. Me, I preferred the hyphenated "Turner-Bristowe," in that order because the rhythm's better than "Bristowe-Turner." And at any rate I wanted Sloane and all her future siblings to have the same last name, so teachers and coaches and such would know they were dealing with kids who were on the same team, so to speak. A few weeks ago, Ash decided that although she still disliked hyphenating, she'd sign on to the "team name" concept, and the team could be Turner, with all of 'em taking Bristowe as a middle name.

Also, Sloane's got a bit of a nickname at only 24 hours old: Duckie. Though this could also be understood as a reference to a John Hughes movie (Duckie was Molly Ringwald's lovably oddball platonic male friend in Pretty in Pink), it grew out of this ridiculously cute infant's stocking cap with duckies on it that we found at the local consignment store.

So there you have it: world, meet Sloane Lantau "Duckie" Bristowe Turner.

Categories: Sloane

Comments [22]

More Videos (Plus, in QuickTime)

(Posted by Brother John)

I've noticed that some of you can't view the movies because you don't have Microsoft Windows Media Player installed. My apologies. I have converted all of the movies to QuickTime format, plus I've added two new movies. Enjoy.

Movie #1: Prior to leaving for the hospital (first time) (Windows Media, 1.9 MB, Quicktime, 3 MB)
Movie #2: Ashley experiencing a contraction; Turner and Ashley's plan of notifying friends via e-mails and such, ruined (Windows Media, 1.6 MB, Quicktime, 2.5 MB)
Movie #3: The morning after; Visiting Ashley & Turner this morning after nine hours of labour (Windows Media, 8.2 MB, Quicktime, 15.5 MB)
Movie #4: The weather outside; for the baby's reference, later in life (Windows Media, 796 KB, Quicktime, 940 KB)
Movie #5: Chatting with Ashley about the labour (Windows Media, 5.2 MB, Quicktime, 9.6 MB)
Movie #6: A message for the baby (Windows Media, 2.2 MB, Quicktime, 3.5 MB)
Movie #7: The heart monitor (Windows Media, 1.7 MB, Quicktime, 2.9 MB)
Movie #8: Hello, Sloane! (Windows Media, 4.1 MB, Quicktime, 7.4 MB)
Movie #9: Parents' reaction (Windows Media, 2 MB, Quicktime, 3.2 MB)
Movie #10: More highlights of Sloane (Windows Media, 8.5 MB, Quicktime, 14.5 MB)
Movie #11: Even more highlights of Sloane (Windows Media, 5.4 MB, Quicktime, 8.6 MB)
Movie #12: The family visit (Windows Media, 3.8 MB, Quicktime, 8.4 MB)
Movie #13: More of the family visit (Windows Media, 771 KB, Quicktime, 1.4 MB)

Categories: Family | Pregnancy

Comments [0]

Photos!

(Posted by Brother John)

I feel so much better. After sleeping like a rock last night, I awoke to the fact that we have a new addition to the family. So freakin' cool!

I just spent the past 30 minutes uploading photos. They are available for viewing here. (I've added two sub-albums; "The Delivery" and "The Delivery Room Digs".)

Mom, Fiona, and I will be heading back to the hospital later this morning. I'll be armed with my digital camera for more photos.

Categories: Family | Pregnancy

Comments [12]

A New Member of the Clan

(Posted by Brother John)

Say "hello" to Turner and Ashley's daughter:

Categories: Family | Married Life | Pregnancy

Comments [3]

It's Baby Time!

(All posts by Brother John)

Ashley and Turner are off to the Rockyview Hospital. Ashley's in labour. But she's in great spirits.

UPDATE (March 19th, 2005 - 1:04 AM)

We're back from the Rockyview Hospital. Ashley has told me that she's currently dilated about 2-3 cms. The doctor has informed us that Ashley will have to return in about 2-3 hours. However, it's anyone's guess as to how long it will take until Ashley is ready to give birth. In the meantime, I've started a photo journal for tonight here.

Movie #1: Prior to leaving for the hospital (first time) (1.9 MB)
Movie #2: Ashley experiencing a contraction; Turner and Ashley's plan of notifying friends via e-mails and such, ruined. (1.6 MB)

UPDATE (March 19th, 2005 - 2:50 AM)

I just received a phone call from Mom stating we're headed back to the hospital. Ashley is experiencing significant labour pains now. Here we go!

UPDATE (March 19th, 2005 - 9:15 AM)

My apologies for the delay. I just woke up.

Ashley's water broke earlier this morning at around 3:30 AM. Shortly afterward, she vomitted. According to the on-site nursing staff, all of this was perfectly normal and indicated a healthy labour. The only thing that was a cause for concern was the fact that they found "poop in the contents of the Ashley's water break". There's a medical term for this and I can't remember it right now. My apologies. Basically, it meant that the doctors and nurses would have to watch the baby closely before and after its delivery.

At about 4:15 AM, they transferred Ashley to the delivery ward were she would spend the next five hours going through - what I would describe as - mildly intense labour. Personally speaking, I had never seen Ashley in this much deep pain before, except for when she was undergoing radiation treatment for cancer back in the mid 1990's. Fortunately, Turner was doing a stellar job of rubbing Ashley's back for each contraction she experienced. Appartently, this helped Ashley to bare the pain.

While in the delivery room, they attached a baby monitor to Ashley. The heart rate was below normal; approximately 130 hearbeats per minute. However, the doctor said that it wasn't anything to worry about it at this point.

I left the hospital at 5:45 AM, leaving Ashley and Turner in good shape. Ashley was about to recieve an epidural. I recieved a phone call at 7:30 AM that Ashley would be delivering in about an hour. To use military terminology for a second, "we have a 'green' light." Everything looks good as this point.

I will be leaving for the hospital shortly. I will try to post an update ASAP.

UPDATE (March 19th, 2005 - 5:46 PM)

It's a girl! Hooray!

Mom and I just got home from the hospital. Both of us are absolutely exhausted.

Not to worry, I have photos and more movies, which I will be posted momentarily. Hang tight.

UPDATE (March 19th, 2005 - 6:30 PM)

Movies first. (Warning: Some of these videos contain course language and material.)

Movie #3: The Morning After; Visiting Ashley & Turner this morning after 9 hours of labour (8.5 MB)
Movie #4: The Weather Outside; for the baby's reference, later in life (796 KB)
Movie #5: Chatting with Ashley about the labour (5.2 MB)
Movie #6: A message for the baby (2.2 MB)
Movie #7: The heart monitor (1.7 MB)
Movie #8: The baby! The baby! (4.1 MB)
Movie #9: Parents' reaction (2 MB)
Movie #10: More baby highlights (8.51 MB)
Movie #11: Even more baby highlights (5.41 MB)

UPDATE (March 19th, 2005 - 6:36 PM)

Here's the blow-by-blow action of today's events:

9:55 AM: I arrive at the hospital to find out that Ashley is fully dilated but has not started pushing. I'm currently sitting in the waiting room, hoping to hear from the hospital staff soon. I'm sure Ashley is doing great.
10:15 AM: Turner comes out to meet me. He looks tired but much less stressed. I follow him into the delivery room.
10:16 AM: Ashley looks great, Mom's in good spirits, and Turner is tired but looks to be very happy. Ashley is fully dilated and will be ready to start pushing soon. According to Ashley, the epidural is a God-send. She's much more comfortable now.
10:41 AM: The nurse just left. She's informed Ashley that she'll start pushing at 11 AM or so.
10:47 AM: Nurse: "13 minutes rest..." (Ashley laughs and promptly falls asleep.)
10:54 AM: Waiting, waiting...
11:02 AM: Ashley wakes. Nurse arrives. It's time to get ready to push. Nurse adjusts the bed. It looks like Ashley will use a squatting bar.
11:30 AM: Ashley is pushing. She's in great spirits. "[This] seems so much different than the first part, which is to just survive it (the labour)."
11:58 AM: Ashley is still pushing. She's making excellent progress. The baby is currently exhibiting heart rate decelerations (called "d-cells") when Ashley pushes; nothing too much to worry about.
12:00 PM: Turner is an excellent coach. For every push, Turner counts eight beats.
12:02 PM: Ashley: "I'm starting to feel a little shaky." Mom: "Do you need some sugar?" Ashley: "Yeah, that would be great." Mom leaves the Mom to grab some soda.
12:03 PM: A member of the hospital staff enters the room. He informs us that, in the past 10 minutes, two girls have been delivered in other rooms. (Cool!)
12:04 PM: Dad enters the room. "Sorry I'm late. Emerg[ency] is all over the place." (Dad is a radiologist who's working on-site today.) Dad tells Ashley, "[relatives and friends] are calling from all over. They're cheering you on."
12:07 PM: The baby's heart rate is around 140-155 beats per minute.
12:13 PM: Ashley's a little chilly. Mom runs to grab blankets. (Ashley is doing so well.)
12:16 PM: Ashley pushes some more.
12:18 PM: Nurse: "The baby's head is still a fair way's in. But you're a great pusher. [...] You're doing very well."
12:20 PM: Ashley hits the epidural button. (She's experiencing some pain, but not a great deal.)
12:21 PM: Another push.
12:22 PM: Nurse: "You'll be here another couple of hours after the baby is born."
12:23 PM: Another push.
12:24 PM: Another push.
12:26 PM: Another push.
12:27 PM: Apple juice request from Ashley.
12:27 PM: Ashley: "I can't wait to have sushi."
12:28 PM: Another push. Ashley: "Come on little Coney Island." (I don't know what this means.)
12:29 PM: Ashley: "I feel so good. That [apple juice] helps so much." (Mom laughs.)
12:30 PM: Baby's heartbeat is about 135 beats per minute.
12:31 PM: Another push. (Turner's got this coaching thing nailed.)
12:32 PM: Ashley: "This is like going to a spa for your perineum."
12:33 PM: Ashley looks outside. "It's like we're at some hospital in rural Connecticut." It's currently snowing in Calgary. The view from the window looks out on the Glenmore rest
12:33 PM: Another push.
12:34 PM: Baby's heart rate is approximately 135 beats per minute.
12:36 PM: Dad enters the room. Apparently, Nanny is a little nervous. (Yep, we're getting calls from all over the country.)
12:37 PM: Another push.
12:37 PM: Turner: "Well, we all know that Nanny would find out somehow." (Ashley laughs.)
12:38 PM: Another push.
12:38 PM: Dad: "I have a thought for you. Pretend it's your Dad yelling at you from the sidelines during one of your soccer games."
12:40 PM: Another push.
12:40 PM: Dad leaves. On the way out, he smiles and says, "Come on, push!" (Ashley laughs.) Ashley: "Yes, sir."
12:43 PM: Another push. According to the nurse, the baby's head is about a finger's length from the opening. She can see the head.
12:44 PM: Nurse: "You're doing great, Ashley."
12:44 PM: John: "I'm personally hoping that this baby is male... in a long list of females." (I have two sisters and 15 cousins, all female. I'm the last male "Bristowe" to carry on the family name.)
12:46 PM: Another push. Nurse: "It won't be long..."
12:48 PM: Baby's heart rate is approximately 137 beats per minute.
12:48 PM: Another push.
12:49 PM: Nurse: "Yep. You're doing well, Ashley."
12:51 PM: Another push.
12:54 PM: Another push.
12:58 PM: More nurses enter the room. Nurse: "Looks like Ashley's doing well."
12:59 PM: Another push.
1:00 PM: Nurse: "Ashley's a very good pusher." Ashley: "It's all the peeing that I do."
1:00 PM: Ashley's temperature is currently 37.2°C.
1:03 PM: Another push. Nurse: "Come on, Teresa." (Ashley exhales.) Ashley: "Ashley." Nurse: "Oh, I'm sorry. I was thinking of my friend, Teresa." (Ashley smiles.)
1:05 PM: Another push. Turner: "Good job, Ash."
1:05 PM: Ashley: "Why can't they keep these rooms at a humane temperature?"
1:06 PM: Another push.
1:08 PM: Another push.
1:09 PM: Another push.
1:10 PM: Dad arrives. "Is this child ever going to go to school? Or, are we going to leave it in kindergarten here?"
1:13 PM: Another push.
1:14 PM: Dad leaves.
1:15 PM: Nurse: "You've been pushing for about two hours and 15 minutes."
1:16 PM: Another push.
1:17 PM: The baby's bed is made by the nurses. Nurse: "A nice, warm bed to jump into."
1:18 PM: Doctor enters the room. Doctor: "We're going to see where you're at. If it's low enough, I can vacuum. There's a lot of ‘cappa'." (I'm not sure what "cappa" is.)
1:20 PM: Doctor suggests that Ashley should relax and rest since there hasn't been much progress thus far. Doctor leaves to get the obstetrician. The baby might be delivered using forceps.
1:23 PM: Another push.
1:25 PM: Ashley is resting now. She appears tired.
1:26 PM: The obstetrician, Dr. Allen, enters the room.
1:27 PM: Obstetrician: "The baby's in a good position. He's a little squished in there. I'm just going to feel to see how much he comes down during your next contraction, OK?"
1:28 PM: Another push.
1:28 PM: It's a bit of a tight squeeze. We have three options: 1) Continue pushing, 2) Vacuum or forceps, 3) Caesarean section.
1:32 PM: The doctor is explaining the options available for Ashley.
1:34 PM: It looks like Ashley will undergo a trial using forceps and if unsuccessful, a Caesarean section.
2:57 PM: Mom and I are sitting in the waiting room. Ashley (and Turner) has been in the operating room for approximately 20 minutes. I called a few friends and family to provide them with an update. We have asked Turner to come out and provide us with an update once the procedure is complete.
3:06 PM: Dr. Allan just walked past. He said, "Everything went fine." (Hooray!) He said that Turner would be out momentarily to tell us how it went.
3:08 PM: Mom: "This is torture. Why won't they tell us what happened?"
3:16 PM: No news yet.
3:30 PM: It's a girl! Wahoo!

Official time of birth: 2:37 PM
Official weight: 8 lbs. 7 oz.

Categories: Family | Married Life | Pregnancy

Comments [26]

And Purely For My Amusement...

Thanks to Brother John and Fiona for the newest addition to our kid paraphenalia collection... modelled here, a breastfeeding pillow!

Categories: Family | Pregnancy

Comments [11]

The Super-Deluxe Don't-Give-Birth-Without-It Glider Chair

A few months ago Mom said she was interested in giving me a rocking chair to make my whole late pregnancy/early motherhood experience a bit more humane. In fact, she made it clear that you basically couldn't give birth if you weren't coming home to a rocking chair, and essentially everyone I spoke to afterward seemed to echo this sentiment. Mom wanted me to get out there and figure out the perfect rocker for me, order it up, and send her the bill.

Right-o! sez I, and headed out into the furniture store wilds of Calgary's various and numerous concrete consumer jungles. It quickly became clear that in fecund circles these days the traditional rocker had gone the way of Dr. Spock, and really, any sane pregnant lady was buying a glider (like, c'mon). For the uninitiated, the difference is simply this: rocker = back and forth, tilting up and down; and glider = back and forth, no tilting, just gliding front and back. Alrighty, good enough, a glider it would be for me.

Turner checks out the goods in our 'round-town tour of Calgary's furniture shops, January 2005

However, it took weeks and weeks and weeks to remember to order the damn thing off the internet - you know, me being so busy with the sitting around all big-tummied, and the hours of daytime television watching, and the going to prenatal fitness classes. Sort of occupied, over here. But then about three weeks ago I suddenly realized that if I didn't get off my ass, I was going to end up coming home from the hospital to a NO GLIDER reality here at Chez Bristowe Turner. And like I say, such a thing was simply not on. As a new mother you have to have a rocker (!) - I mean, glider. So in a mild panic, I got the job done.

And today, hurray! The big yellow truck pulled up in front of the house and the little man inside delivered a gigantic box to our front door.

Assembling the prized glider, with our patron, looking on.

Not the most flattering photo of all time (we'll blame the angle), but it's a hell of a chair!

Categories: Pregnancy

Comments [12]

A Word About Font Size

For the sake of Mom, who needs glasses to see anything smaller than her own nose in the mirror, we've changed the font size for the blog. It hasn't produced the most aesthetically pleasing effect, but at least the senior members of our reading public can't complain further. The end justifies the means.

Categories: Family

Comments [11]

Comments From The Gallery

Of the pre-congratulatory emails we've received in the last little while, here're a few of my favourite bits...

On Turner's role:

"Best of luck! Turner be strong and just so you know, yes I will laugh my ass off at you if I hear you passed out in the delivery room, and yes we will all be silently judging you." - A., Calgary-based actor and farm equipment parts specialist

On recommended names:

"My name recommendation for this girl is 'Liberty'" - B., TO-based Magic 8 Ball afficionado and government big shot

"If the child is born tomorrow then you'll have to think of some Irish names. Like Patrick. or Clancy. or Siobhan. or Potatonia." - S., Montreal-based humourist and fan of concrete

"I do have a few girl names I like, but I'm still hoping for another kid, so I'll keep them to myself until we've officially closed shop. Sorry, find your own!" - N., NW Australia-based francophone and master of the blast radius

"If it's a girl you should name this kid Cinderella. And if it's a boy, you can call it Cinderfella!" - Val, while listening to me read out the emails

On Val:

"Absolutely fabulous that Valerie is there and things are well in hand. I can see her cleaning now. I remember her explaining how, when she moved into her house in Nakusp, she had to re-clean all the gunk out of places like the fridge handle. It was at that point that I realized she was a woman to be admired. I can't clean like that." - A., Vic-based writer and high school friend

Val, caught in a rare moment of relaxation

On pain relief:

"I went for the epidural and I highly recommend it. Amnesia kicks in pretty quick once the baby is out, so you shouldn't be traumatized too much. I just set my mind to the fact that things would suck pretty bad for a day or so and then it would be over." - A., Texas-based debutante and longtime pal

"I said that I wouldn't give you advice, but my wife is adamant re: pain; don't be a hero, just take the drugs, you don't love them more because it hurt more!" - N., former Quebec nationalist

On bringing on labour:

"As far as bringing it on early, my family has a few tales. Apparently red wine is good, that one supported by my grandmother's experience, the flagship for responsibility, whose firstborn arrived a month early after a night of drinking the stuff. Apparently sex is good too, under the premise that what got it there then gets it out. Other than my granny's experiment for booze, there's little supporting evidence for any of this, but it's amusing to pass around." - N., old university friend

"OK here is the formula for labor. Plan a trip to the petting zoo, tell husband you will be right down after you pick up some things off the floor. Bend over, water breaks, put on an adult diaper and change pants. Come downstairs with suspicious bulge in pants, and husband says what happened? Then: No, we are not going to the petting zoo, no you are not having a shower, no no no, and on and on." - M., California-based great auntie and all-around fount of knowledge

At 9:20pm: "On inducing pregnancy, and I pray to God I'm not the only one who recommends this, but here it is: have sex."
At 10:05pm: "Did I write 'induce pregnancy'? I meant 'labour'. I really must lie down." - D., Halifax-based poet and kite-flier

Categories: Pregnancy

Comments [0]

Due Date!

Well folks, here we are, we made it to March 15th, the official due date for our child. Things here at Chez Turner-Bristowe are in waiting mode, as could be expected. I guess you could say that we're "expectant" in more ways than one. Har har. Eeehhhhhh....

My mom (Val) arrived by bus yesterday morning safe and sound, sewing machine in tow. Her arrival heralded the last thing I felt needed to be in place before I could comfortably go into labour (as though my preferences have anything to do with "when"), so it is a great relief to have her here. Though there's not much left to do in terms of actual preparation directly related to the baby, she's already made herself busy doing Mom-ish things like bleaching the bathtub and cleaning under the refrigerator. I didn't want her to come and clean the whole time, but people, there are some nice sideeffects to having your mom around, and only a fool would try to tie my mom to a chair when she's got a head of steam up for a good cleaning rampage. I anticipate that she'll have all the porcelain worn off the bottom of the sink by next week, and that we'll have together renovated the back hallway and planted the whole garden by the end of the month if this baby decides that it's going to stay put for another two weeks.

Physically I'm feeling okay most of the time, though I get very cranky in the evenings, when it's clear that this pregnancy is going to go on forever. In those moments I'm certain I'll never again get to a standing position without a big stream of grunts, I'll never again get farther than 10m from a bottle of Tums, and that I'll never again see my vagina without the aid of a mirror. If it weren't for the many, many, many rubs Turner gives me I really would not be any kind of pleasant company, day or night; and for those many many many rubs, I salute the man I call my husband. (You should see -- he has the best forearm muscle tone I've ever seen on someone not training for a bodybuilding competition.) Overall, I'm huge and my tummy looks almost fake or photoshopped, and doesn't even look like it belongs to me when I catch my own reflection. I'm really at the waddling stage, lurching back and forth as I walk, particularly when I get tired.

Also, I have this weird pimply rash on my upper arms. I've been fortunate that I haven't developed many stretch marks, but the ones I do have at my hips are a weird silver-pink and certainly indicate a great deal of growth, to put it delicately. The big toe on my right foot is hurting for no reason in particular, I think just to get some attention. And my nipples - don't even get me started on them. They're huge. Scary and huge. Suffice it to say, glamourous this stage of pregnancy ain't.

My memory is totally shot (a phenomenon apparently referred to as "placenta brain") so I tell Turner things over and over without realizing it, and like I've mentioned before, I actually forget where I am some of the time. But while I'm more or less space-heady and hippo-bodied, my spirits are generally good. That said, I am certainly at the stage of "Okay, let's get this over with, already."

Now, consider how truly amazing it is that nature gets you to the point where you want to go into labour (an event well-documented as painful, awful, excruciating, etcetera), and in fact actually eagerly anticipate the first real contractions. I'm not unlike many other nine-months-pregnant women in that I am attempting to bring it on using any and all the old wives' tales at my disposal. Among them:

• raspberry leaf tea (strengthens the uterus)
• walking (lots and lots of walking)
• reflexology/acupressure (on the insides of the heel, at the baby toe, at the base of your thumb/forefinger, above your ankle)
• castor oil (diahrreah city)
• jumping up and down (generally not recommended)
• and, as a number of people have suggested, sex.

If you have any other suggestions, please forward them along, post-haste. The sooner we get this show on the road, the better!

For your information, the "plan" for the labour goes thusly: once regular contractions are established, we'll decamp out to Dad's in Douglasdale for a while, since he has two gigantic hot water tanks (compared to our single puny 3L unit) and I plan to be in the shower basically non-stop until it's time to go to the hospital. Once the whole 3-5 min apart point is reached and I can't walk or talk through the contractions, we'll probably send out a quick email to folks who want notice (let us know), and then zoom! we go in the car to the Rockyview Hospital. Of course, in the official plan of the delivery, everything goes painlessly and smoothly and a few short and pleasant hours later we'll be celebrating the birth of our son or daughter. One overnight in the hospital, and then we'll be back home. Oh, the best-laid plans.... Make no mistake, I'm sure it'll hurt like approximately ten motherfuckers (a phrase courtesy of Carla) and I'll be tearing out my own hair and screaming at Turner all those cliched "you did this to me!" lines... but you always have to hope for the best-case scenario, right? Pain-free and blissful, that's what we're aiming for in the official plan.

I'm often asked if I'm going to have an epidural/accept alternate pain meds. I don't know. I guess I'm hoping to be able to make it through with the deep breathing techniques and some low-back massage by Turner and my mom, but that I'm open to the possibility that I may well need some kind of kickass pain relief in the form of medication. We'll see how it goes.

If you wish to call us before it gets all revved up around here (could be anytime, now), go for it. If we don't answer, DON'T PANIC. There's lots of errands being run, swimming at Lindsay Park being done, and walks around the neighbourhood being taken. My grandmother out in Nakusp keeps telling us that she doesn't want to know when I go into labour because she'll just worry, but she calls twice a day to see if anything's happening. If we're not home, she inevitably leaves a worried high-pitched message on the answering machine. I just know I'll be in rip-snortin' labour and she'll call and the whole Catch-22 will come down: should we answer? I'll leave it up to you to think what you like if you get our machine.

If you're interested in predicting the sex/date/weight of this child, you're welcome to submit your guess over email or here, in the comments. We'll post the winner on the website and maybe even name the kid after you, if you have a cool name. Also, if anyone has any non-personal girl name suggestions, we're at an impasse here and not making much headway, so the door is WIDE open for your comments.

Bring it on, we say!

Categories: Pregnancy

Comments [13]

Setting Up The Crib

Initially, I felt a bit weird about the idea of setting up the crib before the baby is born. I'm not superstitious, but it seemed like maybe we should wait and see how everything goes with the delivery and so on before we actually finished off the baby's room. We're still going to wait until April or so to have the baby shower, but in the end it seemed like putting the crib together was the next logical step in our pre-baby house prep.

So without further ado, we bring you the photo essay of the Inaugural Setting-Up Of The John And Margo Turner Memorial Crib (not to imply that John and Margo have passed on; rather, that John and Margo gave us the crib). Thank you, John and Margo!

Lotsa help - I can hold things steady... and that's about it, at this stage

It's coming... together...

Last but not least, the zoo sheets, purchased on Monday at Winner's at Deerfoot Mall (see Ch.2 of Turner's THN-GVB Day, below)

The final product: a cage for our child to sleep in! (See how the zoo linens fit nicely into the whole baby furniture motif?)

The white blanket on the head of the crib is my original baba from when I was a child, the beloved blanket which engendered in me my love of, and fascination with, texture -- particularly that of satin (the baba's edges are lined with it). Mom stored the baba away all these years and presented it back to me last summer, all washed and pressed and ready to go for our baby. Awwww.

Categories: Married Life | Pregnancy

Comments [11]

Whereupon Ash and Turner Engage In Some Serious Thinking On The Subject Of Stuffed Animals

INT: Sears, Chinook Centre. Ashley and Turner are shopping for this weekend's baby shower for an old university acquaintance.

Ash: [Walking by a display of stuffed animals, reaching out, touching them] They really do make stuffed animals softer, nowadays, eh? Different than when we were kids, eh?
Turner: Yeah.
Ash: Sort of shinier, too. The fur is shinier. Sort of slippery.
Turner: Yeah.
Ash: [Fingering the soft fur on a little stuffed duck by the cash register] Like, you can see how these things would feel so tempting to someone looking to give us a gift for the baby. No wonder we have so many stuffed animals, suddenly.
Turner: Yeah. [Looking longingly over at the down escalator and freedom]
Ash: You had a big stuffed animal collection, right?
Turner: [Quickly] Yeah. I slept with about twenty of them when I was a kid. [Looking around for a sales clerk so they can pay for the items and get the hell out of there]
Ash: [Entranced by the texture, staring] I remember stuffed animals being less soft than these. These are so soft. They're like the ones Margaret sent us, the dolphin? And the killer whale? They are so soft. I go in the baby's room and touch them.
Turner: [Now really ready to go] Yeah-yeah-yeah. The miracle of modern life. They've made great strides forward in stuffed animal production. ... Can we get out of here, now?

Categories: Married Life | Pregnancy

Comments [4]

The Fit Ball: Chapter Three of Turner's THN-GVB Day

The newest thing in labour preparation is using one of those fitness balls in the delivery room. Turns out it helps you squat, lean, and generally bounce your way to a more comfortable labour, and so even the hospitals have a bunch on hand... though not quite enough for everyone - of course! People are encouraged to bring their own, just in case.

Now, you can buy a fit ball from the local expensive fitness equipment place for about $45. But our labour prep instructor recommended that we just go down to WalMart and pick up one of their $9 fit balls, so we did as we were told. The $45 ones come already blown-up. The $9 ones don't. And on Monday we learned that the $36 difference might have been worth it, chronicled here in Chapter Three of Turner's Terrible Horrible No-Good Very Bad Day.

Turner sometimes gets it into his head that he's going to accomplish a certain set of errands on a certain day, and as someone who works from home and wants to plan his outings carefully, he can be pretty stubborn and disappointed if his efforts are, in any way, thwarted. Despite the rest of the THN-GVB Day's bullshit, Turner was still determined to get the fit ball blown up before heading home. Thus we bring you the photo essay of blowing up the fit ball.

(It should be said however, before we start, that this day had started out glorious. +18C and sunny, one hell of a Calgary fake-spring chinook-induced March day. Just those feathery nimbus clouds wisping across the horizon. Beautiful. I'd sent out a morning email to folks in Ontario that did a bit of bragging about the weather: oh, hubris. When you live in Calgary, you know that it doesn't matter how the weather starts out on any given day, because as soon as you go ahead and trust that things are good, it can and will turn around and bite you in the ass. But we all eventually go ahead and believe, again, anyway. ...Gotcha!)

To refresh your memory, as the photos start, we are fresh off the day from hell that included a number of nice parts, but overall ultimately sucked (mainly and especially for Turner). We've just left Alberta Registries, where our clerk was telling us the story of her son being stabbed to death, so we really figure there's nowhere to go but up, from there. This is the last errand of the day...

Try #1, Co-op Gas Station, 17th Ave. SE. Notice the sunshiny wonderfulness in the background; little did we know what was in store. As he was putting the hose back on the machine, some East Calgary white trash asshole came past with his snarling off-leash rottweiler and scared the teeth off Turner. Not a good omen.

Suddenly, down from the north (!) - overtaken by the weird black reverse-chinook cloud formation of doom.

Try #2, Centex Gas Station in Inglewood. Notice the all-hell-breaking-loose as evidenced by the slush on the back window and pronounced lack of aforementioned sunshiny wonderfulness. This photo was taken no more than ten minutes after Try #1 at the Co-op, above.

We were wedged up against the building at a weird angle because some idiot Calgary Board of Education van driver had parked in the air hose laneway despite the NO PARKING signs. Still unsuccessful in blowing up the fit ball; this is around the time Turner had the