Tag Archives: growing up

Little Girl No More

We are sending you to the hospital to see if your baby is still alive.

That was how our story began.

My baby girl began fighting for her life when my pregnancy hit the 13 week mark. For 28 weeks, I lost amniotic fluid, suffered through pain and cramping and listened to horror stories of what I could possibly expect at her birth. I watched her grow through the screen of an ultrasound monitor at 13 different appointments. I listened to her hiccups and snoring through the fetal monitors that I was constantly being hooked up to. I waited and prayed and trusted that she would make it, in spite of all the things that were being spoken over her.

We made it to her due date and when I went into labour, if it could go wrong, it did. It was quickly discovered that I had placenta Previa and a placental abruption. She wouldn’t drop and I was losing blood at an alarming rate. More praying, more trusting and boom, we had a baby.

She was perfect, and huge and beautiful and did I mention perfect. She was not at all what the doctors predicted she would be. She fought to stay alive in utero, she fought to survive her birth, she fought me on everything from that point forward.


My little Micah Joy didn’t always live up to her name, and Joy wasn’t always something she was putting out there. She was headstrong and obstinate and did nothing that she didn’t want to do. She was bossy and determined and fearless. Thankfully, she was also sweet and kind and very helpful. She had the biggest brown eyes and one of the best smiles around. She truly was my little gift and miracle.

She didn’t always appreciate being a girl. Not because she wanted to be a boy but because she didn’t like girly stuff. She refused to wear any girly clothes, whether it be in style or colour. She had to have her hair cut super short, and she lived in track pants and Velcro runners. (Oh how I hated those outfits, but she was bound & determined to wear nothing else). She thought Barney was the most amazing show on TV, closely followed by Rescue Heroes and Wheel of Fortune. She ate dill pickles like candy and refused to eat ANY fruit, until she 12 years old.

At 2.5 years old, my Mom made her dress, she put it on and pouted for the whole 42 minutes that it was on her body. It so traumatized her that it took 15 years to convince her to put one on again. Thankfully she graduated or we might’ve had to wait until her wedding to see her in a dress.

At 5 years old, she discovered sports and there was no stopping her. Her first love quickly became softball, followed by ringette and basketball. If she wasn’t at school, she was on a field or in an arena somewhere. She was one of those kids that was just naturally blessed with athletic ability and it was so cool watching her try something new and excel.

As she grew older, we quickly came to appreciate her strong willed and determined personality. Through the years, she got stronger and stood up for herself and the people around her. She continued to do only what she wanted to do, and wasn’t pushed around by anyone. She held steadfast to her beliefs and morals and as a rule, she usually took the high road out of most situations.

She insists on making silly faces in almost all of her pictures. She does some of the weirdest things and laughs at other things that aren’t even remotely funny. She is adored by children everywhere she goes and her smile can still light up any room. She is goofy and loud and so much fun. She is her father and I rolled into one pretty cool being.

She has now graduated from high school, and is looking forward to all that lies ahead of her. I know that she will make wise decisions because she always has. She is way more reasonable and thoughtful than most kids her age. She is smart and witty, and has the same horrible sense of humor as her father. She lives in a baseball cap and a hoody, but that cannot hide how stunningly beautiful she is, which she of course, got from her mother.

She is everything and more that I could’ve ever hoped for in a daughter. She’s no longer my little baby but she is one of my closest friends. That little opinionated child has turned into an amazing person.

I love you Micah Joy. Thank-you for being such a great kid. I am so very, very proud of you. Now please stop piercing things and forget about a tattoo. xoxoxo





I’m 40? What the heck?

 How is that even possible? There is no way that I’m that old, not at all. I don’t feel that old, but then I didn’t feel anything when I turned 30 either. But  seriously, 40? I’ve been married for almost 19 years and have a 16 year old daughter so it is possible, but I still don’t believe it.

What does one do when they turn 40? Am I supposed to cut my hair, use anti-aging cream and buy sensible shoes? (Oh wait, I’ve already done that).  Maybe I’m supposed to “reflect” and look back at all I’ve done and make plans for retirement. I don’t think I’m very good at reflecting and I refuse to move to Florida when I get old, so instead, I give you this.

On June 7th,  I was born, along with Prince, Tom Jones, Anna Kournikova and Muammar Gadhafi.  The musical Grease opened on Broadway and contraception was legalized in the United States. Ghandi committed his first act of disobedience and Ronald Reagan became the Governor of California. Graceland opened to the public  and George Bush introduced the Department of Homeland Security to the world.

1972 was a leap year. It was also the year that  Marlon Brando won an Oscar for his role in The Godfather and Liza Minelli won hers for her performance in Cabaret. The TV show Bewitched aired its last episode, and women were finally allowed to run in the Boston Marathon. Atari released their arcade version of Pong and Apollo 17 made the last manned moon expedition ever.  And to top it all off, 16 survivors from a plane crash survive and are rescued after practicing cannibalism, which we later got to witness in the movie “Alive”.

I have learned that if I could jump into a DeLorean and head back in time that I would be rich. I would also be mad for plaid and would have hair like one of Charlies Angels. (Which pretty much sums up my current look as I look “exactly”  like Farrah Fawcett).


So after sharing all of that, I guess I do have some reflecting to do. 1972 was a pretty awesome year. Not only was I born, but some pretty super cool things happened that year. Turning 40 really isn’t a big whoopity-do at all. I have  lived a very blessed and fabulous life and look forward to many more years and the adventures that life brings us.   Now if I could only convince my body that it isn’t 40, I’d be laughing.