A Doctor for a Daddy: The Politics of Healthcare 2.0

Hi Friends,

In light of recent political happenings here in Ontario, I thought I'd pen another politically inspired post (so again, if reading about political matters isn't your cup of tea, please consider yourself warned).

As some of you may remember, I wrote my first politically charged post back in February after cuts were imposed on Ontario physicians following failed negotiations between doctors and the Ontario Government. Unfortunately, the two sides remain unwilling to return to the bargaining table and now another round of cuts has been announced for October 1st.

What makes this announcement particularly upsetting is that it has been coupled with a spending cap (and potential claw backs). This means that the government has decided on a particular amount of money they are willing to spend on health care and if doctors bill above that amount, they will not be paid for those services. Now, what's challenging about this, is that the government has decided not to disclose the amount they have decided on for the cap, so doctors have no way of knowing when billings have exceeded this predetermined amount. This is where claw backs come into play. If doctors (unknowingly) bill above the predetermined amount, the government will make up the difference by withholding physician pay from future billings beginning early next year. So it is possible that for a few months next year, some doctors will receive $0 in pay for services rendered. What sucks about this is that doctors don't control how much they bill. Physician fees are predetermined by a Fee Schedule (agreed upon by both doctors and the government), and the number of services billed depends on how much health care is required by the people of Ontario. So if people are sicker or require more health care than the government has planned for, doctors will be penalized for that.

That sucks.

That being said, I think we can all agree that the average citizen won't be throwing a pity party any time soon for the doctors of Ontario. The cuts imposed are unlikely to result in financial ruin for doctors and it's safe to say that the majority of doctors will still maintain a pretty comfortable lifestyle. So what's the big deal?

The big deal is that while quality of care won't suffer (because doctors have taken an oath to provide the best care to their patients), access to health care WILL be impacted. The Government is treating an entire profession like crap and the effects of the disrespectful, unilateral decision-making will, without a doubt, trickle down to patients (i.e. mass exodus of physicians to other provinces/countries).

It's a big ole' cup of "adult" when you finally realize that decisions made by governments really do impact you and your community. As a teen I was blissfully ignorant to politics. My 18th birthday rolled around and I enjoyed the opportunity to exercise my right to vote, did I have a clue what any particular party or candidate represented? Hell no. I'm pretty sure my vote went to whoever had the most interesting looking name. As I chugged into young adulthood, there were a couple more chances to do my civic duty. While the elections seemingly held a little more relevance (since I was a university student at the time), my apathy and general disinterest resulted in my lack of voting at all. I didn't vote?! An educated, passionate person, decided not to vote. People around the world are literally dying to get the opportunity to vote and I, like a jerk, decided that whatever menial activity I had going on that day, was more important than having my voice heard.

The upcoming federal election is the first time in my life that I've felt adequately informed heading to the polls. I use the term "adequately", because politics are huge. I couldn't possibly expect to be intimately versed on all of the intricate details of each party's platform, but I've worked hard to understand broadly how each party's priorities align with mine.

So where am I going with all of this?

The recent dispute between doctors and the province have provided a context for me to competently critique our elected officials. As a result, I've found myself critiquing other aspects and levels of government. What do I want out of my government? What type of community, province, country do I want to live in? It's our responsibility to keep our politicians honest and to ensure our voice is heard (by electing representative individuals at all levels).

Heading into the federal election, I encourage all of you mums and dads, and childless people and grandparents and teens and anyone else living in this great country, to educate yourself. Educate yourself on more than just those issues receiving media coverage. Think of the issues that matter to you and find out how they're represented by those people seeking your vote. Please don't rely on those BS attack ads. Do your research, send a quick email, make a quick phone call and ask. Ask your MPs, ask community leaders, ask your neighbours, ask me! Allow yourself to be flexible in your thinking, take in as many perspectives as possible and challenge not only others, but your own beliefs. Make sure you understand the impact of your own thinking on how you vote.

Then, after the results are tallied and the political dust settles, keep political happenings on your radar. Those people we vote in can and will have big impacts on daily life. Take note. Be critical of elected officials. It's our job as voting taxpayers to hold them accountable for the decisions they make. We owe it to ourselves, our families and our communities.

With respect to the current dispute between doctors and the government, D and I feel that we owe it to our community to remain in the province and do our part to help repair a broken system. For D that means continuing to care for the people of Ontario, even if that means taking a few hits from the provincial government and for me, that means educating everyone I can on the shitty way doctors are being treated and advocating for change!

Until next time,

-A

Dr. Love explaining to G the finer details of practicing medicine under
the Robertson Administration.

I Just Forgot.

Hi Friends,

"I forgot".

I must utter this little phrase 50 times a week. However, for every 50 times I hear those 2 little words slip ever so sweetly across my caffeine-scented lips, I might really mean it two or three times.

While parenthood may make your previously razor-sharp friends/family seem utterly clueless and completely scatter-brained, I would hazard a guess that that is simply not the case. Why? You may ask. Parents do not have the luxury of being forgetful.

It only takes one outing, with one change of clothes,  2 crappy blowouts, and an unfortunately low supply of baby wipes. to never, ever leave the house without a back-up everything on your person (and a stockpile in the car). I've found parenting to be full of extremes. You either remember, or find yourself 50km from home on the shitty side of an otherwise sunny Sunday.

As a mum, it's my job to remember. In fact, my memory is relied on so heavily by my favourite humans, that I would like to propose a slight modification to the term used to describe its function... remembering to remumbering. To illustrate:

Where did K leave his orange hotwheel ("no not the red one mummy") three days ago?
In the green Tupperware container, inside your backpack, shoved inside the large yellow mixing bowl under the sink.

Remumbered.

D goes to change the baby while we're out for dinner, "oh shoot, I forgot to bring in the diaper bag".
Present diaper bag he said he'd grab.

Remumbered.

What was the random something that D said he needed me to "pick up sometime if I'm thinking about it..."
A piece of foam to practice his suturing on.

Remumbered (also, why would I ever be "thinking" about that).

Birthdays, Anniversaries, Social events (although they tend to be few and far between these days), D's call schedule...

Re-effing mumbered.

I'm pretty sure life as we know it would fall to ruins if I wasn't so damn good at remumbering. 

Which brings me back to my "forgetfulness". Allow me to illustrate what a simple "I forgot" can encompass. Take the act of buying laundry detergent, that magically formulated, dirt and poop blasting concoction created for the sole purpose of creating hours and hours of laundering fun for its purchaser. There are many reasons why I may "forget" to pick up laundry detergent:

1) I don't want to carry it up from the car: As if juggling $200 worth of groceries, a passed out 30lb, 2 year old and a screaming, wobbly-necked 2 month old (who has decided she can't be in the car seat for another moment) isn't challenging enough, let's add 10 more lbs (What's that? Take two trips? Haha. No freaking way, ain't nobody got time for that.)

2) The baby had a meltdown before getting to the inner aisles of the grocery store: It took every ounce of strength and stamina (along with a very deliberate deafness) to randomly pluck the non-perishables I did from the shelves. There's only so much awkward contortion of the soother around K's head into G's mouth while pushing the 200lb cart full of delicately selected produce (now beaten to a pulp) a girl can take. There's no way in hell I'm adding another aisle to this escapade.

3) They didn't have the usual brand I buy: There's no way I was going to risk an epic meltdown (see #2) in order to find an acceptable alternative.

4) I actually did buy it, but forgot it under the cart while loading the groceries into the car: No explanation required. There's no way I'm admitting to this one.

5) I didn't want to do laundry that day (or the next): Not only do I have 3 loads waiting to be washed, but there is one clean in a basket, and one currently occupying the dryer that I don't feel like evicting (doesn't everyone scuttle naked to the dryer to retrieve a clean pair of underwear each morning?). Buying laundry detergent is like one big, make-work project that some days I just don't feel like participating in.

6) I really did forget: Ok, ok. Sometimes I do just forget.

Surviving mummyhood, or better yet thriving in mummyhood (at least at this stage of the game) is all about energy conservation. Tell me, what's the better use of energy? Explaining why I didn't pick up laundry detergent, fielding a bunch of follow-up questions, potentially entering into a whole discussion about the laundry and finally coming to the resolution of putting it back on the shopping list to pick up next time? Or simply stating, that "I forgot" the effing detergent, and will put it back on the list for next week? The second option frees up that time to change and feed the baby, locate a missing shoe and pack the bag for a fun evening stroll by the water, so, in my humble opinion, it's the better one.

While this technique has been extremely effective, I noticed D becoming increasingly concerned with the frequency of my apparent memory lapses. While part of me wanted to let him in on my charade, part of me hesitated for fear of losing out on the quality time it afforded me. Thankfully, a family grocery shop last weekend took care of any guilt/mixed feelings I had toward my "forgetfulness".

The 4 of us started out the shop, G and I ducked out about 1/2 way through for an unscheduled but preemptive nursing session. I don't know what happened in the 15 minutes I sat sipping my coffee and nursing my little lady into a milk coma of bliss, but the frazzled look on poor D's face as he came barrelling from the checkout indicated that it wasn't pretty. I followed the pair of them out to the car, where I,  ever so gently, reminded D that we had to fit the stroller into the trunk he just finished hastily filling with grocery bags.

"Ugh, this is so hard and I'm not even by myself" he said (kind of) to me, but mostly to himself.

Music to my ears, I thought to myself, only an "I don't know how you do it" could've made it sweeter.

When I asked him if he remembered the laundry detergent, he opened his mouth as if to explain himself, then stopped. "Oh shoot, I forgot", he stated. And in his brief moment of hesitation I knew he realized, I'm not forgetful at all.

Until next time my friends!

-A

Sometimes it's better to "forget" a few things
than to miss a moment with these two!

Six Weeks

Hello Friends,

Six weeks. I wish I could say the time has flown right by, but with a colicky a baby (can you even call it colic if it's every.waking. minute?) you reeeally get to savour every.single.one. of those "precious" moments. So six weeks sounds about right.

That being said, air high-fives all around for making it to six weeks! The week where I (hopefully) get cleared by the OB to "work out" (wink, wink), and where we can try giving little Ms. Screamy-Pants a bottle (so D and others can get in on some baby-feeding action). Date night here we come!

So in honour of hitting the six week mark as a mum to two, I thought I'd share 6 things I've learned since bringing home our littlest one:

1. It is possible to feel more tired than the most tired you have ever been. 

I'm pretty sure infants undergo training for terrorist-style sleep-deprivation skills in-utero. I'm also pretty sure that two-year olds have an innate ability to communicate (and therefore conspire) with those infants practicing this cruel form of torture. Case and point, while G handles nighttime wakings, K has decided to forgo his afternoon naps... indefinitely. 

2. Crying that once either pulled at your heartstrings, or made your ears bleed will no longer phase you. 

In fact, it sometimes even seems musical. Add in the tiny two year old sing-song voice of "Go sleep, babee! (WAA WAAAAA) Go sleep. Go sleep babee! (WAA WAAAAA) Go sleep", and move over Uptown Funk, we have a new ride-along jam in the car en route to the grocery store. 

3. You will do so much laundry. 

It doesn't help, that Screamy McScreamy Pants also has an incredible knack for pooping out of almost every diaper we've tried. We've been averaging about four wardrobe changes a day for her and about two for me (I manage to get out of the line of fire about 50% of the time- but even K's been a casualty of her poop-antics). 

4. People will pick the most inopportune times to tell you to "Cherish these moments, they go by so fast..."

Why thank you old man in the grocery store. I will stop and cherish this beautiful moment where one kid is screaming so hard she's turning purple and the other is ripping a page out of the latest edition of US Weekly while simultaneously opening a bottle of baby shampoo and biting a chunk out of the red pepper I was planning to use for dinner. I won't forget to take special note of the the panicked looking 15 year old that's bagging my groceries as he throws the watermelon on top of my eggs. Oh? Your youngest just turned 25? Awesome. Precious. Effing. Moments.

5. Your days become a constant battle between Toddler mum and Infant mum. 

No buddy, I don't want to play blocks for the 70th time today. Your sister has just fallen into a deep enough sleep on my chest that she's letting me sit on the couch (and even put my feet up). "Play blocks Mumeee, play blocks...peeese" (sad face). Ok, ok. Bring your blocks over to the couch and I can watch you play (Infant Mum for the win). 

On the flip side, K gets pushed down by some big kids (4yr olds) at the park, no hesitation leaving G in her stroller by the park bench as I charge to his rescue and mama-bear the crap out of those little shitheads (Toddler Mum prevails). 

6. It becomes harder and harder to remember life before baby number two. 

Even though being a mum to two still feels so fresh (and sometimes scary), I've been having a hard time remembering what being a mum to one was like (with any memories of my pre-mum self being fuzzy and fleeting at best). It feels like baby girl has always been around and it's so strange to think that less than a year ago she was just a couple of cells floating around separately in my and D's bodies. Wild! It's also a strange feeling to think that K will not likely remember a time when G wasn't around. It makes me happy that they will (hopefully) be super close, but a little sad that all of the fun times we shared as a family of three will only be remembered through pictures and stories we tell him. Sigh. However, if these first 6 weeks are any indication of what life as a family of 4 will be, the adventures that await us will more than make up for the blurring of 2 years worth of memories. 

So there you have it. I have been a mum to two for almost six weeks now and while I still feel completely overwhelmed 99% of the time, 1% of the time I feel like I'm nailin' it. 

Until next time my friends,

-A

#winning #mummyhood

"Newborning" with a Toddler Part One: Breastfeeding

Hi Friends,

As most of you probably know baby girl has arrived, and lucky for me, in a timely fashion (however, she did treat me to a marathon labour). My two short weeks as a mummy to two has provided me with ideas for a thousand different posts that I can't wait to write. However, you will have to be patient with my inevitable tardiness in doing so, as "newborning" with a toddler has proved to be suuuuper challenging!

That being said, the overarching theme of the past two weeks and the inspiration for today's post is "Breastfeeding a Newborn while holding a Toddler's Audience".

Breastfeeding can be a challenge at the best of times, and while my previous experience provided me with the reassurance that it does, in fact, get better, that has basically been the extent of any carry-over breastfeeding "expertise". I have learned very quickly that new baby equals new ball game. It's a real shame that not even your nipples remember the drill (and subsequently freak the heck out with each latch). On top of the toe-curling, hair-raising, boob-burning pain of latching and subsequent milk let-down, you now have a curious two year old watching and wondering why mummy is seemingly ignoring your request for an "oat bar" while simultaneously squeezing her eyes closed tight and counting to ten under her breath. On the plus side, K has been getting a lot of practice with his counting, and I'm provided with the occasional follow up of "ready or not, here I come!".

Another aspect of breastfeeding a newborn that has been vastly different with number two has been engorgement (aka the replacement of your breast tissue with cannon balls; the heavy, pirate ship, lead kind). With K, I got to ride out post-partum engorgement in the privacy of our tiny condo, armed with icepacks and a cadilac breast pump. This time round', post-partum days three to six were spent adventuring around the city enjoying the beautiful sunshine and D's vacation. I must say, one does not know the painful desperation of engorgement until they find themselves locked in a bathroom stall, two year old in tow, leaning over a public toliet, attempting to hand express enough milk to get you through the the second half of a leisurely arboretum walk (and while K may very well end up needing therapy when he's older, it worked, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat).

All in all, K has been super tolerant of his baby sister and quite supportive of my breastfeeding (and pumping) endeavours. In fact, D and I got quite the chuckle the other night watching K jump up and down in front of me while I pumped, yelling directly at my awkwardly suctioned nipple "GO! GO! GO! milk! GO! GO! GO! milk! GO!". I've never felt so accomplished. Go me!

The first two weeks have been a whirlwind, but I'm attempting to make mental notes of all the fun "mummy of two" moments I'd like to share with you. Unfortunately, Baby G has not sync'd her newborn nap routine with her big brother's so my blogging time is dependent on how captivating the Bubbleguppies can be. Lucky for you all, today's epidsode is a good one!

Until next time my friends,

-A

"Best Brother Ever"

Me and my little people.

It's almost "go" time...

Hi Friends,

So tomorrow I will be 36 weeks pregnant. That means one more week until I'm considered "full term" and only four more weeks until my due date. By this time with K, I had my bags packed and waiting by the door, the car seat installed, I was pre-registered at the hospital and had the fastest route possible planned for go time. I was prepared. I was ready to go!

This time around, not so much.

It's not that I don't want to be prepared, and it's not that I'm not thinking about it constantly. I'm just having a hard time with the action piece. D thinks it's because subconsciously I'm not ready to have this baby, so it's my way of putting it off. I'd like to think it's the opposite, the more unprepared I am, the more likely I am to be caught off guard. You know, living on the edge and all that jazz.

In reality, I think I'm stalling because I don't have a solid plan in place this time.

With K I knew how it was all going to go down. I was going to wake up D in the middle of the night with obvious contractions, we would bide our time while we took in the last few minutes as a family of two. D would escort me down to our car (him hauling the bags, me clutching my lower back as I Lamaze-style breathed and waddled to the passenger side of the car). We would arrive at the hospital, where I would waddle inside, take up shop in a delivery room, and work at breathing, and sweating, and chomping on ice cubes, until the Dr. swooped in to tell me it was time to push. A couple minutes of pushing and Voila! K would be here, screaming and crying and cooing in my arms while D beamed over me and I asked him for a big mac or something...

Ha! Ok so anyone who knows K's birth story, knows that that beautiful little soliloquy was not at all how it went down. In fact, it couldn't be further from the truth. But that doesn't change the fact that leading up to his birth day, I felt like I had a handle on this whole labour and delivery thing.

This time, everything is so up in the air. I just can't get to a point where I feel prepared, or ready or even  the slightest bit on top of things. This overwhelming feeling of unpreparedness continues to grow as I get further along in this pregnancy and more and more "ifs" pile on. At first it was as simple as VBAC vs C-section (you can read about that here), then we added on GD (you can read about that here), now today we've added a potentially breech baby to the list of complicating factors. Gah. While I'm not counting myself out for a VBAC just yet, I've come to terms with the fact that a C-section is looking more and more likely.

While neither option will drastically change what goes into those "go time" bags, it's the lack of knowing that's hindering my ability to get my shit together (although today I DID throw my pre-registration form in the mail). I'm hoping the slew of appointments I have next week will help me nail down some sort of game plan so I can get this bag-packing show on the road. But until then, I guess I'll just sit here on the couch, staring at my empty bags, blogging away while watching mindless TV and hoping that baby girl doesn't spring an early arrival on us (although that would make for a good post, and would eliminate the need to worry about all the little details... haha).

Until next time my friends,

-A

36 weeks tomorrow!

A little snapshot from Mother's Day

Enjoying my surprise shower last weekend!

Flipping and Flopping

Hi Friends,

Now that the big day is quickly drawing near (42 days until my due date, but only 20 until I'm full term), I can't help but feel that twinge of panic building in the pit of my stomach. While I've flip-flopped between excitement and terror throughout the entire pregnancy, I'm finding the last couple days have been more flipping (out) and less flopping (back in my easy chair). With the big question on my mind being, what have we done?!

This morning as I wrote D's schedule on the calendar for his upcoming paeds rotation two things really struck a chord; 1) I'll be full term in three weeks and 2) I will deliver this baby before he's done this next rotation.

Eeek.

I will, in part, blame my sudden panic on my GD, although I'm well aware that all mums experience this to some extent as the days dwindle. I'm choosing to blame my GD because since getting my sugars in check, I have been feeling fabulous! Almost tooo good. In fact, I think I could handle keeping little lady on the inside for a few more months, I mean... what's the rush?

I think humans have evolved in a way to make pregnant ladies struggle with so much discomfort at the end of pregnancy to lessen their fear of the inevitable. By 39 weeks, most people are so flippin' large and gassy and achy and uncomfortable, that they would do just about anything to get the baby out. It's hard to appreciate the daunting-ness of motherhood when all you can think about is how you are unable to breath, and how your ankles have disappeared all together (along with your toes and vagina).

With K, this incredible discomfort started around 31 weeks and was with me until the end (39w1d). While it looked like this would be the case with baby number 2, I must say that since starting my GD diet, I have had more energy and a spring in my step that hasn't been there since before getting pregnant. I was telling D last night, that if it wasn't for the large, bulbous protrusion on my front, I don't think I would feel pregnant at all. Whereas, three weeks ago I would have paid millions for someone to hurry along the last two months. It's the strangest thing.

Now, some people reading this are probably thinking, that sounds amazing, tell me again why feeling great is such a bad thing?   

It's a bad (maybe bad isn't the right word, let's say nerve wracking) thing because, there is the potential that, in just over three weeks I could be responsible for keeping not one, but two tiny humans alive.  And the pain, exhaustion and frustration that will inevitably come along with that fact seems exponentially worse than the way I'm feeling at this moment (as I relax with my coffee on the couch during K's nap time).

It also doesn't help that the last few days K has been uber snugly, but at the same time super volatile,  wanting to be rocked before nap time and bedtime but not wanting D to come near him. It's like he knows what's coming and is trying to soak up every last moment with me before this new addition arrives. Kind of like how a dog knows when a storm is coming and gets all clingy and unsettled (and inevitably ends up hiding under the bed).

Did I really just compare my toddler to a puppy? I suppose I did... that's ok right?! I mean, they're both cute and adorable and, if left to their own devices, can completely dismantle your house in under 5 minutes. What was my point again?

Oh right, K is adding to my nervousness, because it's like he senses a storm, and I predict that that's exactly how the first few weeks with little lady will be. One giant hurricane of stitches and bleeding and laxatives and crying and cracked nipples and nighttime feedings and diaper changes and toddler tantrums and sleepless nights and sleepless days and oh man. I need to stop.

Deep breath (well three shallow breaths, as one "deep" one isn't really possible at the moment).

Writing this all out, I feel a flop coming on. This is exciting. Wait for it...

It's possible that in just over 3 weeks we could welcome the most perfect, beautiful little addition to our family. While the nights (and days) may will be long, they will be full of laughter; and happy tears; and introductions to family and friends; and big brother firsts; and warm, sunny walks; and an ability for my lungs to fully expand when I breath; and guilt-free consumption of ice-cream...

I'm so excited! Baby R will be here so soon, and I can't wait for you all to meet her!

And there you have it, a brief glance into the hormonally charged mind of someone who's 34 weeks pregnant. Scary huh?

Until next time my friends,

-A

Still agile enough to snap a candid shot of my nephew
(while K makes a break for it... dammit). 

Gestational Diabetes

Hi Friends,

Gestational Diabetes... a little known illness that I've (unfortuantely) had the pleasure of becoming all too familiar with. Here's the Cole's notes on Gestational Diabetes for anyone who may be just as much in the dark as I was:

Gestational diabetes mellitus (GD) is a type of diabetes that occurs during pregnancy. It happens when your body cannot produce enough insulin to handle the effects of a growing baby and changing hormone levels. Insulin helps your body to control the level of glucose (sugar) in your blood. If your body cannot produce enough insulin, your blood glucose (sugar) levels will rise.

Between 3-20% of women will develop GD, depending on their risk factors:

Being:

• 35 years of age or older 
• From a high risk-group (Aboriginal, Hispanic, South Asian, Asian and African
• Obese (BMI of 30 or higher) 
• Previously giving birth to a baby over 4kg (9lbs)

Using:

• Corticosteroid medication

Having: 

•  Prediabetes
•  Gestational Diabetes in a previous pregnancy 
• A parent, brother or sister with type 2 diabetes
• Polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS) or acanthosis nigricans (darkened patches of skin) 

GD is typically able to be managed by choosing a healthy diet (think Canada's Food Guide), being physically active (at least 30 minutes each day), and by achieving a healthy pregnancy weight gain (between 25-35lbs). Insulin may be needed in extreme cases.  

GD typically disappears immediately after childbirth, however it can linger for a few months in some cases.  

See more at: http://www.diabetes.ca/diabetes-and-you/living-with-gestational-diabetes#sthash.d925aE3N.dpuf

So, having zero risk factors, I suppose I'm one of the lucky 3% that develop GD just based on sheer luck. After almost 2 weeks of living with GD, I must say that it has to be one of the most frustrating diagnoses that a doctor can bestow upon a pregnancy-craving-ridden lady. Not only do I have to check my sugars four times a day (and I'm sportin' the bruised and battered finger tips to prove it), but in order to keep said sugars in check, I've had to eliminate almost every pregnancy-craving food from my diet.

So farewell, milkshakes, fruit smoothies, chocolate, large amounts of pasta, gummy bears, whole pieces of fruit, Peanut Buster Parfaits, Iced Caps, donuts...

Sigh.

No, but seriously, it's amazing what an entire naval orange can do to your blood sugar. Damn you, naval oranges!

Since being diagnosed I have had to become a much more conscious grocery shopper and meal planner. It's amazing how little changes can make such a huge difference, and while it has been eye-opening to discover how rampant sugar is in our food (and apparently in my blood), I would have to say my biggest (and most impactful) change has been portion control. While it was sad to bid farewell to a lot of pregnancy go-tos (bananas especially), I've been feeling much better and much more energized since getting my blood sugars in check. Not surprisingly, my new diet and lifestyle has also been helping to keep my weight in check. D and K have also been reaping benefits, as they are getting much more well-balanced meals and snacks (while also having the pleasure of indulging in guilt-free cheat snacks). So all in all, I suppose this unfortunate diagnosis is a blessing in disguise (although my fingers would beg to differ).

So, in honour of my recently adopted GD diet, I would like to share with you a recipe for a delicious (and totally diabetic friendy) Sweet Potato and Avocado Frittata.

Sweet Potato and Avocado Frittata

 (Serves 4)

2 tsp olive oil
1 medium sweet potato, chopped
1 onion, chopped
1 cup of mushrooms, chopped
1 cup of red pepper, chopped
1 clove of garlic, minced
2 cups of spinach
Salt and Pepper to taste
5 eggs and 1/2 cup of milk
1/4 cup feta cheese, crumbled (optional)
1 avocado  

Preheat oven to 385 degrees. Cook sweet potato in microwave for 5 minutes (poke a few times with a fork first). Sautee mushrooms, onions, red pepper and garlic with olive oil in frying pan. Peel and chop sweet potato into 1 inch cubes and toss into frying pan for 1 min. Place sauteed veggies (and sweet potato) in 10 inch baking dish. Beat eggs in bowl with milk, salt and pepper then pour into baking dish over top of veggies. Bake in oven at 385 for 30 minutes (or until top of Frittata is golden brown). Top with feta and fresh sliced avocado and serve. 

So there you have it. Sweet and simple and when paired with a spinach, cucumber and tomato salad and a water, a completely diabetic friendly meal!

Until next time my friends!

- A

GD just got real...

33 Weeks and Counting

Less time to think. Less time to worry.

Hello Friends,

Yesterday our little family decided to take advantage of the amazing spring weather and embark on a beautiful hike through the Royal Botanical Gardens (RBG). However, the number of times I collapsed onto a convieniently located park bench made me painstakingly aware of the fact that we will be welcoming a new baby into our home in just a few short weeks (technically 8, but full term in 5).

I must say, it's amazing how easily a pregnant body can crap out on you, even when you're feeling great and full of energy! A slight increase in walking pace, a gentle incline or just 5 little stairs was enough to leave me gasping for air. Thankfully though, I had some very understanding hiking companions, who were more than happy to explore nearby sticks and ladybugs and animal tracks and pinecones, while I regained my ability to mobilize and drifted off into thoughtful contemplation...

Eight weeks. Only eight more weeks until we meet this new little bundle of joy. K has seemed so excited to help prep our room for the new baby. He was thrilled to help daddy "build" the crib Saturday, and lucky for him, mummy second-guessed daddy on the construction. So with just two turns of the allen key left, mummy insisted daddy start again from the beginning (his initial build was correct by the way, oops). He was such a big boy, when after crib-construction 2.0, he proudly announced "Bed. New baby. All done!". 

But I can't help but wonder, would he be as excited, if he knew how all-encompassing this new baby is going to be? If he fully grasped the amount of sharing he will have to do with his little sister. His mummy, His daddy, His grandparents, they will all be Hers for the taking. Will he be upset with us? Will he be upset with me? Will bringing this new baby home cause irreperable damage to the air tight relationship we've spent 2 full years building? 

I cried a little the other night when he asked for daddy to join him in the bath, "No mummy. Daddy sit.". I can't help but wonder if he senses what's going on and is just prepping, both him and I, for the seperation we will inevitably face. I know he's not going anywhere, and I will still be his full-time mum, but it's going to be different so incredibly different, and that's what scares me most (although delivering the baby (regardless of the method) and the first few post-partum weeks, are a very close second). How will it be possible to love this new baby as much as I love the one I already have? 

A forceful jab from the inside brings me back. Oh, hey baby. As my heart races with excitement, I can't help but smile as I wonder if that perfectly timed kick was a gentle reminder that I have an infinite amount of love to share.

From across the path I hear a familiar little voice, "Up Mum, Up. Up!", well, I guess I had semi-understanding hiking companions...

As my due date draws nearer, I'm filled with so many different emotions. As a soon-to-be second time mum, I can honestly say that I flip flop between excitement and shear panic about 9 thousand times a day (as I'm sure every mum-to-be does). What frightens me though, is that I would probably flip flop another million times a day if I had more time to stop and think about what being this pregnant with baby number two really means. It's such an exciting time, but I'm so thankful that K keeps me busy, busy, busy. Less time to think means less time to worry, which means more time to soak up the last few weeks as a mummy to one.

Until next time my friends,

-A

Toddler pace is a good pace. Clearly D didn't get the memo.

Not so sure about how fast the Lady Bug can skitter.

Waving to Daddy, in our boy-band matchy outfits.

The "nursery", aka the better part of our room (take 2).

An Intercourse Moratorium is Coming (and other reasons to love Pregnant Sex)

Hi Friends,

I will apologize in advance to my parents and in laws and anyone else that may prefer to believe in my eternal childhood innocence. That being said, if you don't want that image tainted, please stop reading now (and if choosing to continue, consider yourself warned).

Today I'd like to talk about sex, and more specifically, pregnant sex.

An article popped up on my newsfeed this morning that was titled "Why Sex While Pregnant Sucks", the article talked about things like increased sense of smell, feeling fat and frumpy, uncomfortable positions, swollen lady bits, leaky breasts etc. The end of the article was a call to action for all pregnant ladies to band together to crush the myth of "carefree, hormone raging, passionate, pregnancy love-making". The article was shared by a fellow mum and had around 400 likes. Comments included things like "Finally, someone who isn't afraid to tell the truth"; "Like times 1000, I feel like a beached whale"; "I can't imagine my husband finds my baby tub and saucepan nipples sexy"; "Yes! I only have sex with the lights off"; and "Pregnancy sex is THE WORST. Any pregnant lady who claims to 'look and feel sexy' is either lying or suffering from hormone-induced blindness".

While I can appreciate that this may be the experience for some, I certainly do not feel this article or the ensuing comments are representative of all pregnant ladies. I will admit, there have been times during this pregnancy and my last, where I wasn't feeling my sexiest. However, those moments are not only fleeting but are few and far between the times when I feel like a curvy, sex goddess.

This is totally me!
Venus of Urbino by Tiziano Vecellio

Now, I would be lying if I claimed to be that pregnant lady who wanted sex 24/7 (there are times when I truly am just too freaking tired), but most days I'd enjoy a good "romp in the hay" just as much as my pre-pregnant self. While many may be quick to attribute my feelings about pregnancy sex to "increased libido" or as this morning's article commenter so eloquently put it "hormone-induced blindness", I'd like to dispel this notion by sharing a few more reasons why I have a special place in my heart for pregnant sex...

1. It's a great form of cardio

When you're a team-sport-playing kind of girl, being pregnant eliminates most forms of exercise you previously enjoyed (you'd be hard up to find many people who would be willing to post up a chick in her third tri). Enter, sex. A fun form of cardio, that you can enjoy while it lasts, and then drift off into a post-workout slumber without having to change clothes, tie up shoes or leave the court. Score!

2.  It's a great excuse to shake things up

As confident as you may feel in bed, I would argue that most people settle into a sex routine. I would also bet that most people have a couple of moves they would like to try during sex, but may be too uncomfortable (or comfortable) to try out. Enter pregnant sex. A lot of those standard, hum-drum, and somewhat boring moves, just can't be done (that belly can be quite the wrench). It's the perfect excuse to casually introduce some of those more risque positions "hmm, looks like you're going to have to get behind tonight babe"(aaaaand look who just upped their sexiness to porn star status, at least in D's eyes).

3.  It's a fun couple's activity that can be done at any time of the day (or night)

This one may be more relevant to those pregnant ladies who already have children, and/or have partners who may do a lot of on-call or shift work. But it comes in handy to have a grown-up activity (that doesn't involve binge watching your favourite TV show) that can be done at any time of the day or night. While it would be fun to plan a couple's bowling night, check out our friends latest art exhibit or go for a romantic stroll around the bay, these activities can be challenging to schedule during a nap time, or when D gets home from work at 2 am. Sex is a super couple-y way to connect with your partner and is always ready (even if you just have a couple of minutes before K's up from his nap).

4. An intercourse moratorium is coming

As comfortable as I may be with bodily fluids and swollen parts, I know the time is coming (those first days, weeks, months postpartum), where I will be giving sex the big, fat N-O. The medically prescribed moratorium may technically only be a few weeks, but from experience I'm prepared for other factors to extend this period (article author- you think your breasts are "leaky" now? Just you wait. Not to mention the fact that you may have a newborn attached to them 24/7). That being said, I'm going to soak up as much lovin' as I can, while my bulging stomach and swollen ankles are the only "inconveniences".

Long story short, while there may be a whole lot of hormones coursing through my pregnant body, I'm not "suffering" from hormone-induced anything. If anything I'm enjoying my hormone-induced confidence, honesty and peace of mind. I love my pregnant body, and based on last night's happenings (and every other sexual encounter we've had), D does too! 

Until next time, 

-A 

Sharing my third trimester "curves" with you all!

Weight a minute!

Hi Friends,

- "Sixty eight point three."

- "Sixty point three kilos?"

- "No, sixty eight point three."

- "Oh, I see. Sixty eight point three kilos."

That was my interaction with the prenatal nurse yesterday when she asked me to read my weight off the scale for her.

"Sixty eight point three", I repeated silently to myself. I was going to check that in pounds once I got into the exam room.

Two minutes and 4 clicks of my iPhone later, I had an answer, one hundred and fifty point five. One hundred and fifty point five?!

Now, I'd like to say that those numbers came as "quite a shock" to me, but I'd be lying. The truth is, I have been acutely aware of the ever expanding rear end accompanying my cute (not so little) baby bump.

What did come has a shock was how I felt about it once the Dr read it aloud off the paper. A wave of crappy rushed over me. A sinking feeling of guilt mixed with shame bubbled up as I thought back to the laissez faire attitude I'd taken with my meal and snack selections as of late (Using homo milk to make my KD? A mid-day afternoon snack of jalapeno poppers? Don't mind if I do!). I had also fallen victim (and hard) to the old cliche "eating for two" and my Dr was about to call me on it.

Ugh, not again.

"Now, I recognize that it's a time for rapid growth and development, so we will tend to see higher gains during this time. However, four kilos between appointments is not something we want to be repeating each visit."

Her words, while not overly critical, left me feeling a tad embarrased. An embarrasment that was likely amplified by the fact that D just so happened to have a free day to accompany me and K to the appointment.

With K, I gained a lot. Like 25lbs beyond the recommended weight gain for pregnancy, lot. This time, I told myself, would be different. And, it started out that way. In fact, I was feeling so crappy for the first three months that I didn't really gain much at all. I guess I thought that gave me a free pass to do the whole "eat what I want, when I want" thing. Apparently, this was not the case.

I don't think the weight gain itself is what's bothering me, so much as the crappy feeling that comes along with poor diet and lack of exercise. I haven't been feeling great, and as much as I joke about my big butt, it really is starting to be quite the pain. It's becoming ever so hard to clothe and I seem to bump it off things more often than I do my basketball sized belly.

What I find even more challenging are those people in my life that I feel not only condone poor eating during pregnancy, but encourage it. As a pregnant woman, I'm already fighting an uphill battle with cravings and constant hunger. The last thing I need to hear is, "don't even think about the calories, you're pregnant, it's allowed. And besides you look fabulous".

A) I only need 300 extra calories a day. That's like one Peanut butter cookie from Tims.

B) While I don't think I look horrible, you my friend, are suffering from bump blindness.

Bump Blindness- The inability to notice anything about a pregnant lady (acne, stretch marks, triple chins, Kardashian-esque booty) other than her bulging baby bump.

While I don't expect, nor would I encourage anyone to point out my flaws or ridicule me for indulging in the occasional craving. I would appreciate if they would be more open to facilitating my attempt at a healthy pregnancy weight gain. A facilitation that can be as simple as being ok with me declining that freshly baked muffin or a second helping of dinner, or as complex as commiserating with me over the fact that my butt's already outgrown 3 pairs of maternity pants (true story).

That being said, I'd like to thank the handful of people in my life who are already all over this. You may not know all the pregnancy rules and guidelines, but you've seen my pre-pregancy butt enough to understand when I say I need to "slow these rolls".

So here I am, on my way to 27 weeks (yay third trimester), up twenty one pounds from my starting weight. I still have a buffer of 14lbs to stay within the recommended weight gain, with just under 14 weeks to go. While staying within the recommendations is a doable goal, I'm not going to be too upset one way or the other. Rather, my goal will be to keep myself feeling as good as possible for the next 13 or so weeks so that I can enter into Mummyhood (take 2) feeling refreshed and recharged. In order to do that, I will need to start eating better and moving more. With the warm weather knocking on our door, and fresh produce arriving at our local famer's market, I have a feeling mother nature might just have my back this time.

Until next time friends,

-A

"Wait, what?! Oh right, I'm pregnant."

Hello Friends,

I must admit, it feels like D and I have not done much by way of preparing for Little Lady's arrival in just over 3 months. Thinking back to when I was expecting K, we were in prep mode from the moment that little blue plus sign popped up. The first order of business, was to kibosh D's plans to upgrade our cable to a premium package (this just so happened to be what he was doing while I [unbeknownst to him] was in the bathroom peeing on a stick). From there, we spent the next 9 months making sure our tiny condo, and all of it's inhabitants, were prepped and ready for Little Man's arrival.

This time around, while we're closing in on the 6th month mark, the only thing in this (slightly larger) condo that indicates a baby's on the way, is my (slightly larger) abdominal region.

Now, I should clarify that "out of sight", does not necessarily mean ill-prepared, as we plan on reusing most of K's baby gear for Little Lady. So, in reality, we probably do have just as much ready to go as we did at this time with K.

However, what seems to be missing is the daily, nay hourly, celebration of our impending arrival. The crib and change table waiting eagerly in plain sight, the proudly displayed basket full of baby-related paraphanalia I scored at the Babytime Show (attended around month 4 or so), the handful of baby books splayed across the coffee table and the "baby" folder saved to my desktop filled with product reviews, appointment times, dream gear, labour and delivery plans, perianal massage guides and anything and everything related to baby naming). Man did I rock pregnancy the first time around!

It's not that we're not excited about Baby Number 2. In fact, I think I may be more feeling more of the excitement this time around, because some of those new mum fears are non-existent (How will I know when to change baby's diaper?  How do you cut a baby's finger nails? What if I can't figure out how to hold baby?).

It's just that I'm torn.

How do you balance new baby excitement with celebrating the amazingness that is your toddler?

I'm well aware that once baby arrives, my attention will have to be split. And for the first few months, I'm anticipating that that split won't be 50/50 between the new baby and K. So I think subconciously, I'm trying to focus a majority of my energy on celebrating K and his achievements in hopes that the little guy may bank some of this attention for days when he's feeling a little dethroned by baby (one can dream right?). Unfortunately, this approach has left little time (or energy) to spend on focusing on Little Lady.

I was warned by other second (plus) time mums, that there will be days where you walk by a mirror only to be shocked by your baby bump (Wait, what?! Oh right, I'm pregnant.), but until it happens to you it seems almost unfathomable. I mean really, how can you forget that you're having a baby? But, as unbelieveable as it may seem, they were right! Just the other day I had one of these crazy moments. It was truly amazing (and frightning) considering the amount of effort I've been needing to get up off the floor, out of the bathtub or out of bed at night. I, like many mums before me, suffer from occasional bouts of Baby Belly Disconnect (BBD). 

Enter, baby kicks! While I don't have time to sit around and eagerly anticipate each one (as I did with K), they are nature's way of reminding me that I have a living, energetic, amazing little person growing inside of me. Each little high kick and/or judo chop to the abdomen forces me to take a moment (however brief it may be) to appreciate our growing family. They also help to alleviate some of the BBD I've been feeling.

Another way I've been attempting to connect with Little Lady, is by preparing K for big brotherhood. We have acquired a number of big brother books, we talk about K's future big brother responsibilities and have attempted to involve K in the naming process (sorry buddy, but we're going to continue to veto "Orange", "Heart", "Ted" and "Puppy"). I think we may be making progress as K knows that there is a baby growing in my belly, that she has a heart beat that goes "bum bum, bum bum" (this is his highlight of attending my prenatal appointments), and that she will (hopefully) drink milk from mummy's boobies (right now though he will be the first to tell you the "milk, all gone").

So I suppose we have been preparing for Little Lady, it's just that baby prep looks a lot different with Baby Number Two than it did with K. This time instead of preparing a home for a baby, we're preparing a family for a new member!

Now, I should probably get off here and start sorting the 2 years worth of baby clothing needing to be organized before June. Strike that, K's up from his nap. Maybe tomorrow...


Until next time friends,

-A

And the Firsts Keep on Coming..

Hi Friends,

So the thing about mummyhood is that it doesn't matter how long you've been doing it, there will always be more "firsts" to be had.

Around K's first birthday, I stopped formally keeping track of firsts. However, K's second year has been filled with hundreds (if not thousands) of firsts, be they happy, sad, disgusting, hilarious, disturbing or anything in between. Most days these "firsts" would be considered just plain boring, but every now and then these little milestones are a little more memorable. While, I've long stopped recording these types of things in K's baby book, we've had a few "firsts" recently that I feel may bring a smile, or cringe, or "amen sister", to all my fellow mums out there. So here are a few gems to possibly brighten your day...

K's first time peeing on the potty.

K's first time pooping on the potty. 

K's first time attempting to put on my bra. 

K's first time bowling.

K's first time laughing at his own toot.

K's first time laughing at someone else's toot. 

K's first naptime diaper explosion.

K's first time doing yoga.

K's first time kissing my belly and saying "Hi baby".

K's first time using the potty as an attempt to prolong bedtime. 

and my absolute favourite (and the inspiration for this short little post)...

K's first time projectile vomiting all over himself, his blocks and his carpeted bedroom (Happy Monday to me!)

What kinds of firsts have you guys enjoyed recently?! Feel free to share in the comments!

Happy Monday everyone!

Until next time my friends,

-A

K's first time doing Yoga with his puppies

K's first time bowling

GO, GO, GO!

Strike!

My Little Yogi

Hi Friends,

As most mums can attest to, finding fun, indoor activities to do with a headstrong and sometimes just downright defiant, almost two-year old can definitely be a challenge.

My search for these elusive outings began the moment the thermometer dipped below zero, as that was the day we elected to forgo our daily trips to the playground. Unfortunately for this tired, newly pregnant mum, any place that would cater (non-judgmentally) to my rambunctious toddler seemed to come with a set of criteria that we could never quite meet. K had to be potty trained, or I had to be able to baby wear, K had to be only crawling (no walking), K had to be able to independently participate, the contradicting lists seemed to go on and on. It seemed K was too grown up for somethings, but not old enough for others. We were stuck in toddler no-mans-land in the middle of a Canadian winter. We just couldn't win.

Lucky for us, we were saved by the holidays, which saw D's schedule ease and our social calendar fill up with tons of fun, indoor events. While Christmas (and all the presents that accompanied it) was able to get us comfortably through the January freeze, by February the luster and allure of all those (now battery-drained) toys had inevitably wore off.

So there we were, getting all bundled in our snow gear, ready to trek to the library for story time (for the 3rd day in a row), when K said "no books, no, no, no". I looked down at my little bundled burrito and thought to myself, "He's right. If I have to listen to that librarian sing "The Wheels on the Bus" out of tune, and with a slightly obscure twist on the melody, one more time, I may just break into a fit of my own "no, no, no, nos!". So instead of turning left to head to the library, I cranked the stroller right and took off for Tim's (that epic toddler-snowsuit showdown that I had just won was not going to be wasted).

When we returned home, and K was happily unbundled, I sunk into the couch to enjoy my first Roll-Up the Rim of the season. As I sat there, blissfully sipping away on my fully caffeinated, regular coffee with milk (for anyone who may want to enable my indulgence), I looked down to see K pushing himself up into the "downward-facing dog" and repeating "yog, yog" while giggling. I couldn't help but laugh (which only encouraged him more) as it was quite apparent that he had been paying closer attention to my sad attempts at prenatal yoga, then I thought.

Then I had another thought, yoga! (Ok, same thought but different context). I wondered if there were any toddler yoga classes we could sign up for? I busted out my computer to search (as my pregnancy brain has been in full-force and I knew it was only a matter of time before this idea was gone) and low and behold I stumbled across Yoga Nest. What was more, was that this week was Yoga Nest's birthday and to celebrate they were offering all of their classes for free.

After perusing their website I discovered, that Yoga Nest offers classes for new mums, old mums, toddlers, families and mums-to-be. They cater to all ages and abilities, and Wednesday mornings they offer a Toddler Yoga Gym with absolutely no exclusion criteria! Yay! With a couple clicks of the keyboard we were all signed up. Free yoga? Don't mind if we do!

So that brings us to today, Wednesday! We bundled up and trekked 15 minutes on the crappily-plowed, snow covered sidewalks to Jackson and Locke where we found the most welcoming (non-library, non-grandparent's house) environment we have experienced since moving to Hamilton. While I don't consider myself to be particularly "yoga-y", I must say, I will definitely throw my support behind any organization/movement/lifestyle that so completely supports mums and young families.

Thank you Yoga Nest for a fun morning out of the house. We will be back!

For any mums of toddlers looking for somewhere to go, or something to do, might I suggest looking into toddler yoga (and more specifically Yoga Nest for any local mums). It has all the stuff our rambunctious, cuddly, defiant, insecure, overly-confident little ones love, while promoting heart healthy activity and developing motor skills and coordination. Plus it gives us mums a chance to have some guilt-free, distracted, constantly-interrupted, adult conversations while getting some stretching and breathing in ourselves!

Until next time friends!

-A

Taking a yoga break from barn chores

Yog! Yog!

A Doctor for a Daddy: The Politics of Healthcare

Hi Friends,

I just want to start off by saying that this post may get a little political (read: completely political), so if that makes you squeamish, please feel free to stop reading here (I will not be offended, I promise).

As most of you know I am married to a Resident Doctor, and more specifically a Family Medicine Resident Doctor. For those of you who may not know, a resident doctor is someone who has completed their medical school training (and thus holds the title of Doctor), and is in the process of completing 2-6+ years of specialized training in their area of choice (in D's case, that would be Family Medicine).

At practice the other night, one of the girls I coach asked me, "how many years does it take to be a doctor?". I answered, "well, in D's case, 4 years of undergrad, 4 years of medical school and 2 years of residency, so I guess 10 beyond high school". Her reply? "Holy shit, I'm crossing that off my list of things I want to be when I finish high school".

Her response, while slightly amusing, made me stop and think. It really does take a special kind of person to decide in their teens that they are willing to commit the next 10 years (at minimum) of their life training for a career.

However, I will say, having been with D every step of the way, that you never really have that 10 year milestone in mind. It's more like working toward the completion of different phases.
Phase 1: Completing an Undergrad degree
Phase 2: Applying and interviewing for medical school
Phase 3: Being accepted and completing all 4 years of medical school
Phase 4: Applying and interviewing for residency, and
Phase 5: Being accepted and completing residency.

Then when all is said and done, you look back and say, "Holy shit, where did 10 years go?".

Now that we are working on Phase 5 and the end is in sight, we are gearing up for D's career in medicine. Contrary to popular belief, there will be no time for, "I'm a doctor, now I can go relax and bask in my doctor-ness". Rather, if the last 10 years have taught us anything it's that doctors train hard for 10+ years, so that they are able to work even harder for the next 50 or so!

I'm not going to lie, as the wife of a doctor, this makes me a little nervous.

All that being said, following the most recent breakdown of talks between doctors and the province, the Ontario Government has decided to impose a new "deal", ridden with health care cuts, on Ontario's doctors. I will admit, I am not the most well-versed in Politics, nor do I profess to be an expert on balancing budgets or even critiquing government for that matter. However, I do hold a perspective on this particular matter that I would like to share with you all.

I find it difficult to respect a government that not only abandons contract negotiations, but also slanders an entire profession by attempting to paint them all as money-hungry and greed-driven men and woman. The province would have you believe that doctors prioritize their desire to line their (white coat) pockets over both the financial and physical well-being of Ontario taxpayers. While I recognize that there are greedy and money hungry doctors in Ontario, I also think it's safe to assume that you can find greedy and money hungry, politicians, insurance brokers, farmers, bankers, franchise operators, taxi-cab drivers, teachers, dentists, retail executives, small business owners... and any other profession you can imagine. But like those other professions, the majority of doctors are hard-working, humble, genuinely caring individuals who want nothing more than financial, physical, mental and social well-being for the people of Ontario (Ds "dream car" is a Subaru Outback for crying out loud).

The cuts imposed on Ontario's doctors, while not earth shattering or career ending, send out a couple of strong messages. The first being that quality health care is not a priority for the government, which should scare us all, and the second being that the financial and overall well-being of Ontario's new doctors is not a priority, which is particularly scary for me (and my small family).

The "deal" encompasses a shift away from patient-centred (salary-based) Family Health Teams (FHT: by reducing the number of positions available in FHTs by 50%) and towards Fee-For-Service (FFS: think walk-in clinic) model, coupled with a 2.65% reduction in all fees for medical services and the abolition of the New Graduate Income Stabilization Program (which assisted new family docs by removing some of the financial risk associated with setting up a new practice).

So in a nutshell, the government is forcing new family doctors into walk-in style practices (where they will be billing a reduced rate for their services) by eliminating FHT positions and increasing the financial risk of starting up (or purchasing) a rostered practice. While this won't necessarily have a huge impact on those doctors with established practices (other than the 2.65% decreased income from billings) these cuts are monumental for those just starting out. The reason being, $200,000+ of debt that accompanies most new docs into their new career.

Now some people will just say, "too bad, so sad, the new doctors will just have to work harder". To that I will say, "that's a very real possibility, assuming you can provide a 30-hr day".

As a resident, rarely a day goes by that D doesn't stay late at clinic. Whether he's following up with Mr. A's lab work, ensuring Mrs. B gets called with the results from Little Man's chest x-ray in a timely fashion, double-checking that Mr. C's narcotic prescription gets renewed before he has to come face to face with the reality of his chronic pain, the list of ways most residents go above and beyond goes on and on. He could easily wash his hands for the day, turn off the office light and go home when the clock strikes 5:30, but he doesn't. He doesn't, at the expense of ultrasound appointments, birthdays, family dinners, promised trips to the pool, bath times, bedtimes and everything else in between. What is more, is that these unpaid hours are put in just so that they can reach an baseline standard of care. They are not getting special recognition from their patients, in fact, nine times out of ten Mrs. B is upset that it's already 6:30 by the time she gets the call.

We would be naive to believe that these long hours will end with residency, in fact, if anything the hours will get longer. As a wife of a doctor, I've come to accept that my husband will have a special amount of passion and dedication for people I will never know. However, I will not accept his not being compensated for the work he does. If I know D, he will continue to work tirelessly to ensure his patients receive nothing but the best of health care, and he while he would likely do it for free, there's no way in hell I would ever let him. Fortunately for us, Ontario is the only province to have shown such blatant disregard for the financial and overall well-being of new family doctors and their families. Which means that there are 9 other provinces that would be happy to have the dedication and quality health care that comes with these fresh-faced family docs. I'm glad that our small family has the flexibility to make the decision to go elsewhere if and when the time comes.

The most recent deal imposed on Ontario doctors is really just a big ole' slap in the face to new doctors (and their families). We (myself, D, his resident colleagues and their families) have dedicated the better part of our 20's making social, financial and emotional sacrifices to ensure the people of Ontario are greeted with doctors who can provide them with exceptional care, it's unfortunate that the Government is choosing not to acknowledge or value that.

Until next time friends,

-A

"Ooooh mummy's gone political, Snap!"

For anyone interested in specifics, you can check out Dr. Shawn Whatley's website, as he does a great job crunching numbers, and providing stakeholder perspective.

A "Million Dollar Family"

Hi Friends,

Today I'd like to share some exciting news. Last Friday we found out that with the addition of Baby #2, we will become, what several people have referred to as, a "Million Dollar Family".

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the term Million Dollar Family (as I was until Saturday), it is when a married couple have two children, a boy followed by a girl.

Historically, this term pertained to wealthy families, and was akin to winning the offspring lottery. It meant having a firstborn son, to inherit the estate and carry on the family name, and a daughter to marry a powerful ally and expand your family's power and influence. A Million Dollar Family didn't have a need for multiple sons, as they had enough money to pay servants to do any manual labour. And a household of daughters would mean there would be no one to carry on the family name. Additionally, more than two children, meant more mouths to feed, bodies to clothe etc. so those third, fourth, fifth children, cost the family more than they were worth and were therefore avoided.

So there you have it, your Wednesday afternoon history lesson.

Now, while we will meet the "genitalia criteria" for a Million Dollar Family with the addition of Baby Girl R, that is where the similarities between our little family and this "ideal" family BS ends. Here are a few reasons why...

1. We are not a powerful oil tycoon family, the heirs of a shipping dynasty or the descendants of Royalty. In fact, we have no "estate", "power" or "family jewels" to pass on to our children. That being said, any small fortune we may accrue throughout our lives will be split equally among all of our children, and anyone else we feel is deserving of a piece of the pie.

2. We will not be arranging, nor will have any part in selecting who Baby Girl R partners with in the future. So any hope of spreading our power and dominance "throughout the land" will have to be done on our own accord, not by an ideal union of offspring.

3. There is a possibilty that K (if he decides to marry) takes his partner's last name. In 2015, having a child with a penis does not equal having someone to carry on the family name. Likewise, Baby Girl R may decide not to marry, or not to take her future partner's last name. A daughter can easily pass her family name on to her children.

4. I'm a strong believer in "many hands make light work" and since we don't have any servants on staff, who are we to turn our nose up at a couple extra sons and daughters?! Are we really expected to stop at two children simply because someone 150 years ago thought this was ideal? One hundred and fifty years ago, these same people still believed in Maternal Impression, the Four Humors and that slavery was a-ok. While we may be "two and through", the jury is still out on that one and when the time comes, we will be deciding based on our own criteria.

So moral of the story, "perfect" families come in all shapes and sizes, and in 2015, I'd like to believe that people don't actually still strive for, or idealize, the archaic notion of a Million Dollar Family. We are happy to be expanding our brood and are thrilled that we will get to watch K take on a new role of Big Brother. As for Baby Girl R, we can't wait to meet her!

Until next time friends,

-A  

"Knocking" on Mummy's belly to see if the baby's home.