Monday, July 1, 2013

an ending to a new beginning

On June 24th, 2013, on an early rainy muggy morning, Finnegan Pierre Florizone entered this world.  Strong, healthy and weighing a whopping nine pounds.  Labouring with Finn was one of the most challenging yet amazing experiences of my life, and I would do it all over in a heart beat.  I had asked so many women as I waiting for Finn, what labour was like, and I had so many different answers.  There is no definition or right way of explaining how it feels to go to the deepest place to allow another soul into this world.  I have never felt so grounded, so rooted to the earth, so connected to my true being.   It's primal and messy and scary and wonderful, and yes painful. But it was worth it.   And now here I am, on one of the hottest days of the year, sitting at the computer, writing what will be my last blog after a very long journey. I have dreamed of writing this blog for almost three years.  I have had parts of it memorized. An ending, but also a beginning of something new and magical. Our loss of Luka has changed us in so many ways, and sent us on a powerful path of healing and hope.  And now that Finnegan has entered our lives,  I can honestly say it was all worth it.  The pain, the ache, the desire, the laughter and the tears.  Thank you to all who have read this blog, encouraged me to continue writing and sent us love and support.   And now a new journey begins.  The journey of our little Finnegan. I will always remember the moment he entered this world, with his powerful lungs and wailing cry.  We welcome you little boy.  We love you.  We will tell you all about your beautiful sister.  Thank you for choosing us as parents. 
And so, I say goodbye to this blog, to the thoughts and words that healed my soul.  I love you Luka. Let the wind and the trees carry your spirit and give you peace and light.  Come and visit often.
                                                                 My heart is full.

Thursday, June 6, 2013


Waiting.  The hardest part of the this whole journey and this whole process. A week and a half until the actual due date of this baby boy, and now patience and trust have become my daily focus. I am spending my days reading, walking, visiting friends, and enjoying the beautiful weather. At night, I feel the baby move around inside me and pray and hope all goes smoothly. Every morning I wake up and realize that I am one day closer to meeting this little boy, who we love and can't wait to hold.  Baby is moving all the time, head is down, and I'm feeling ready to bring this baby into this world. It's hard not to compare the waiting for this baby, with my waiting for Luka to be born.  Our lives have completely changed and opened up since the birth and death of our beautiful daughter.  I have grown stronger, more aware, and opened my heart to the limitless possibilities of life.   In the past few weeks, I have been seeing an amazing counselor to help me through all the emotions that have been surfacing as I get closer to giving birth.  I was reluctant at first to see a counselor, because I was afraid of having to remember all the trauma of Luka's birth.  But, I wanted to truly honour this baby's entrance into this world and not get stuck in the emotions of the past, when I am in labour.  At my last counseling session, Michael joined me, and we talked about ways to honour Luka's memory as her brother is born.  While talking,  I shared the most profound moment I experienced when Luka took her last breath.  As I held her and her soul left her tiny body,  I felt part of it enter mine.  It was like she needed to be with me still, the only place she knew was safe.  And I realized as I shared this with the counselor, and Michael, that Luka will be with us as this new baby is born.  Luka is part of me, and always will be. By honouring my body and the power I have within me to give birth, I am honouring Luka and all she has given us.  Luka's death was a different kind of birth.  A birth that has given me a life time of deep love, patience, and strength I never knew I had.   I can give birth, and I will.  It won't be the same.  It will be challenging.  It will be hard.  And I want it.  So, every moment I get restless, or impatient, I allow myself to breathe deeply, feel the wind in the trees, and visualize the moment when we hold this baby in our arms, and then after all this time and waiting, get to take him home. 

Sunday, April 7, 2013


Rain. The robins are singing, the leaves on the trees are showing their buds, and the smell of spring is in the air.  Anticipation.  Hope.  Excitement.  Feelings that are ever present in my daily life, as I wait for the birth of our baby boy in June.  Of course there are all the other emotions. Worry, fear, the what if's.  And the memories.  Every day a new one comes rushing back, when I least expect it.  I've been pretty relaxed this pregnancy, more than I was with Luka's, but as my belly grows and I start to think about birth, tears easily flow.  Birth.  Something I planned and dreamed of with Luka, and now as I think about birthing this baby, I have to keep reminding myself that it will not be the same.  I'm planning a natural birth at the hospital, and I really hope to have a VBAC.  But, another part of me just wants the baby out, and quickly to avoid any crazy complications or problems.  At the beginning of this pregnancy, I didn't want to get too attached to the growing life inside me and I tried with all my might to stay neutral.  We weren't going to buy anything for baby until just before, or after.  But as I feel the strong kicks and movements of this growing boy, I have fallen completely in love.  And, with all my heart and soul, I pray he comes into this world healthy and strong.  As much as I don't like to compare, this pregnancy has felt so different from Luka's.  I'm much bigger, this baby is super active, and I don't have the constant anxiety I did with Luka.  Yesterday, we went and bought a stroller, which was a huge step.  Returning the car seat and stroller after Luka died, was very difficult.  I really hope we get to use our new one this time.  I only have seven weeks left of teaching and then I begin my maternity leave. I know it's going to come quickly, and I need to embrace the now, and be thankful spring has arrived,  the days are getting longer, and my belly is getting bigger. Today, I'm going to clean out the pantry, make turkey soup, and go for a walk in the rain.  April showers brings May flowers.  I'm going to enjoy as much as I can the last few months of being round.  I have to believe that in just over two months the sun will be shining, and we will be bringing home Luka's little brother, our newborn bundle of joy.

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

another milestone

It's a foggy, rainy night, and even though I am tired of the gloominess,  I rejoice in the fact that January is over, soon the buds will be coming out on the trees, and my belly is growing everyday. The other day Michael's dad told him that life has a way of turning around.  It's been a long, difficult, beautiful, and enlightening journey, full of all kinds of emotion. But the best moment yesterday was when the perinatologist confirmed that our baby, as far as he can tell, is doing well, and appears healthy and strong.  No markers of Trisomy 18, or Down's.  I know nothing is a guarantee, but it was like someone lifted a weight from our heart's.  Michael and I both cried as we watched our baby cross it's legs, put it's hands up to it's face, and show us his bum with a full view.  Yes, it's a boy.  Something we wanted to know, for many reasons, but I don't think it could have been hidden.  He was very happy to reveal to us who he was.  And although we have twenty weeks before we hold him in our arms, it was wonderful to have a little glimpse into the mysteriousness and magical world of our growing baby.  Driving home from the appointment,  I thought of my little Luka, and all that she has taught us.  I miss her, but I know she had a part in giving us a son, and her a brother.  And so we just continue to live day by day.  Embracing the now, the beauty of feeling kicking feet and tickling hands, and hoping for the outcome we have so longed for.