The Anniversary of Yes

Tests were always stressful for me. They're not fun. They take so much out of you and you don't know how they'll go. In school I would cram for exams and worry about how I would do. During the test I would sweat so much I wound up with a blue hand from writing on sheets of foolscap. (I was a straight A student but still always worried and doubted myself. I'd tell my friend "OMG I totally FAILED that exam!" Then I'd get a 90%.) After learning to drive, my road test was just about the most nerve-wracking thing I'd ever done. I was so scared. Most of my family had failed their road test the first time (or first few times.) I was so afraid of failing. Luckily I passed on my first try. The one thing I kind of messed up was parallel parking (I was too far from the curb.) I told the guy "Don't worry. I'll NEVER do it again!" and I haven't! The only way I parallel park is if all the spaces are empty and I can just drive along into one of them! Of course the worst tests of all were blood tests. They were always terrifying to me because I had a phobia of needles and fainted every time.

Then, last year, on November 18th 2011 I took the most frightening test I had ever taken. One which changed the rest of my life. I took a pregnancy test. I had never been late before. My periods were always on time (every 3 weeks and 3 days. Lucky me. Not even 4 weeks between my horrendous monthly visitors.) I had never missed a period. Not in 30 years of menstruation. Not with any of my boyfriends. Even ones that lasted several years. It was bizarre to me. It made no sense. I finally resigned myself to the fact that I was probably going through early menopause. But I got a pregnancy test just in case (it was my sister's idea.) I peed on the little plastic stick. I was expecting "No" the way that you expect the sun to rise in the morning, or rain to be wet. I was not expecting "Yes" any more than I was expecting pigs to fly, or Hell to freeze over. Me having a baby was not within the realm of possibility. You don't get pregnant at 42 with a guy you've only been dating a month. It just doesn't happen. I was with someone for almost a decade and didn't get pregnant so it just didn't make any sense. But there it was. After I finished shaking and crying I thought "Oh my God. I'm going to be a Mom." And beneath the shock and the fear there was something else, a kind of joy. Love. I was going to have a baby. I took a picture of the test as a souvenir because it was digital and I figured the little yes would fade eventually. I always took photos of all of my adventures and this was the beginning of my biggest one so far.

When I broke the news to Mike (Michelle's deadbeat dad who took off when I was four months pregnant) he was sitting at his computer, drinking his third cup of coffee, leaning back in his broken black leather chair (he leaned back so far in it that the spring was shot) in his office, in what is now Michelle's nursery.
"I'm pregnant."
Silence.
"You could take a morning after pill." he suggested.
Inside I was screaming "God, you're an idiot!"
Instead I just rolled my eyes and said "Well first of all it's NOT the morning after. It could have been any time since my last period in October. And second, a morning after pill is like an abortion pill. I wouldn't do that anyway. I'm against abortion."
He didn't know what to say. I could see the wheels spinning in his spiky blond head. He had just turned 32 years old. We had only been dating a month (mind you he moved in after two weeks which was HIS idea.) I decided to put him out of his misery. I didn't want him to feel trapped. I gave him an out, if he chose to take it.
"Ok look, I'll fully understand if you want to leave but I'm keeping this baby. This isn't something I ever planned or expected but it must be God's will for me. It's Fate. I know you didn't sign up for this, nor did I. I mean we've only known each other a MONTH. If you want to leave you know where the door is. I'll understand. I don't expect anything from you."
I fully expected him to start packing his things and scurry out the door. But he didn't. A while later, after he'd had a chance to process the idea, he told me that he was sticking around. "I knew when we met that you were special and that this was meant to be," he said. "I've never had a family before... We'll make a cute little family. And I'll teach him everything I know."
"That's pretty scary!" I said, "or her. I hope it's a girl."

I called my sister and my Mom. They were so excited and happy for me. I thought my mother would have gone ballistic. "Are you crazy?! You get pregnant to a guy you just started dating?!" but instead she was thrilled. Apparently she had WANTED me to have a baby. She thought that I would regret it if I didn't. She'd even been praying "Please God don't let Ann Marie regret not having children." "So it's your fault!" I said to her, "You prayed for it!" It was just too bizarre. I still couldn't believe it was happening. I was the last person on Earth that I ever would have pictured having a baby. I didn't feel mature enough, responsible enough, patient enough. I didn't think I could ever be a Mom. I could barely take care of myself. But I started to change after the test. My feelings, priorities, everything changed. My maternal instincts (which before that day I didn't even realize I had) started to take over. I was becoming a Mom.

I had been posting an original song on Youtube every day of 2011. Many songs I'd already written and many brand new that I penned about the latest experiences in my life. The songs almost became like diary entries, sharing what I was feeling on any given day. So on November 18th I couldn't resist writing about my news. I wanted to tell the world, without really telling them. I'd heard it was bad luck to announce your pregnancy in the first trimester because you don't know how it's going to go. The thought of losing my baby was too painful to even fathom (though I hadn't expected her, I loved her and felt protective of her almost instantly after finding out I was pregnant) but it was a possibility. I'd known so many people who suffered the heartbreak of a miscarriage in the first few months.

I wound up writing, recording and posting "Never counted on yes" -- a song about my pregnancy test. I kept it vague enough that no one in the world would know the real meaning, except Mike and I, my sister and my Mom. It just sounded like a song about life, about love, about embracing change. "I confess I never would have guessed that life could become such a beautiful mess. And I'm stressed but I'm blessed. Never counted on yes, yes, yes."

 

Now here I am a year later. Michelle and I are both sick with the cold. Caring for a sick baby when you're sick as a dog yourself is one of the hardest things I think anyone could go through. Especially for a single Mom, with no one there to help. No one to run to the store to grab things for you. No one to take the baby to give you a break. Somehow I find the strength to carry her when my arms are aching and I'm so weak I can barely move. To force a smile when I want to cry. To play "This little piggy" and "Was a little monkey" to make her smile even though I'm beyond exhausted, drained, depleted, my nose running, my head aching. To comfort her and take care of her even when it feels like I'm running on empty. To put on a brave face even when it feels like I'm falling apart. Because I'm a Mom now. And that's what you do.

My little girl and I have been through a lot already and there's so much more for us to go through. Ups and downs, adventures, discoveries. We're both learning as we go. It seems like a lifetime ago that I sat in the bathroom waiting for a word to appear in that little plastic window. I know that it was meant to be. Mike obviously got scared about the idea of fatherhood a few months later, or figured that we were better off without him (because we are -- financially, emotionally and in every way he was a MESS. More of a hindrance than a help.) Someone told me that a mother is a mother from the instant she's pregnant but a father isn't a father until he sees that baby. He doesn't feel the same bond. He wasn't attached to the baby the way I was. If he was, he never could have left.

She had me at "Yes." As soon as I knew I was pregnant, I started to love her and I changed my whole life for her. I would do anything for her.

I feel so blessed to have my little Michelle. In spite of all the heartbreak I went through earlier this year, all the difficulty of being pregnant, all the pain of labour, all the stress and sleeplessness of having a new baby, I feel like the luckiest person in the world to have my little girl. If I had it all to do over again, I would.

It's a funny thing to be given an unexpected gift that changes life as you knew it. Like winning a lottery with a ticket you didn't know you had, forgotten and scrunched up in the bottom of your purse.

I never counted on yes. But I am so grateful.

A year ago...

An iced capp got me pregnant.

Well sort of...

A year ago, at the start of October, I met someone for an iced cappuccino at Tim Hortons (It's my favourite. People always say "Let's meet for coffee" but I don't drink coffee.) I expected it to be a casual date, just an interesting conversation at a Tim's. A first date with a boy I met online. No big deal. I didn't expect it to set off a chain of events that would change the course of my entire life.

Of course if I had been even remotely rational or cautious or had even a shred of self-protectiveness, I wouldn't have made a date with Mike. I'd learned his history from emails back and forth online and speaking with him on the phone. I knew he was from the wrong side of the tracks, that he had a tragic childhood which translated into some HUGE issues as an adult. I was looking for a boyfriend. He was, by his own admission, a walking disaster. Certainly not someone you'd try to build a relationship with. But I was intrigued. I admired his honesty. He tried to warn me he was a mess with nothing to offer. But I always had a soft spot for wounded doves (loved an alcoholic for three years for example) so I threw caution to the wind. Anyway, I figured it couldn't hurt to meet at Tim Hortons for an iced capp. Nothing bad can happen at Tim Hortons, right? The fact that he was a 6'2" blond Scorpio like my previous boyfriend whom I'd also met at a Tim Hortons and who broke my heart to smithereens in the summer should have been a red flag if his checkered past and tortured present wasn't. But I was at the stage in my life where I thought what the heck, just go for it. You only live once. After all, it was on my lifetime "To Do" list to go skydiving, so the risk of falling in love and being hurt again didn't seem that life-threatening in comparison. And it's not as though I planned to fall in love with him. I just thought he'd be an interesting person to meet.

I'd met several unique characters on coffee dates -- a sweet Muslim who still lived with his parents, a smarmy Romanian truck driver, an aging rockstar/elevator man, a (too) young chiselled italian stallion on his birthday, an exhibitionistic werewolf under a full moon -- to name just a few! Most dates didn't lead anywhere. Sometimes they were scary. Sometimes there was no chemistry. Sometimes there was an attraction but they were only after one thing and I needed more than that. I was looking for love. As first dates go, a coffee date is easy and safe (in theory at least). If worse came to worst you'd just finish your iced capp, say goodbye and go on with your life. If good came to best you'd meet the love of your life and live happily ever after. What could it hurt to try? Famous last words.

I almost didn't make it to the date. I was extremely nervous. I nearly backed out. Then at the last minute I got a cramp in my toe (I get these bizarre, extremely painful spasms in my foot where one toe will jump out of place and lock for several minutes. It hurts like a mo-fo and there's really no cure. You just have to ride it out. It's fine if you're home and can writhe on the floor, screaming in pain until it stops. It's much more difficult when you're, say, on a first date at Tim Hortons, hopping around and holding your foot like a spazz.) I almost just stayed in the car but I thought, screw it, I'm here. I'll go in and just tell him why my face is contorted in pain and I'm hopping around with my shoe off. He was a good sport about it.

The date went surprisingly well. He was funny and witty. Candid, sarcastic, fascinating. We hit it off so well that he even talked me into going back to his place to meet his previously unnamed kitten (which I subsequently named Charlie.) Who could resist a kitten? Yes I blundered into his trap. "I live just around the corner. Want to see my kitten and help me name him?" I was like a little girl being lured into a van (except that he didn't have a vehicle or even a license. I was in the driver's seat but only literally. Figuratively he was always in control. I was mesmerized, hypnotized and I fell for him. Hook. Line. Sinker.) So I went back to his place where he basically "kidnapped" me for three days (his word. A joke but not far from the truth.) Not that I wanted to leave. I was his willing prisoner. I cancelled plans I had the next day to stay with him instead. I was caught in his spell. It was the most intense experience of my life. It was happening WAY too fast. I broke all my rules for him. I surrendered body and soul. There were so many red flags. But I was so drawn to him. The chemistry, physically and spiritually, was off the charts. We were the most unlikely couple. At opposite ends of the spectrum entirely. He was the proverbial bad boy. I was always the good girl. They say opposites attract. He called me angel. He was a devil. It was a match made in Heaven (or Hell.)

There were warning signs from the get-go. I guess I chose to ignore them. Some people would say I was asking for it. I just couldn't resist him. There was something dangerous about him that was electrifying to me, something predatory and sinister about him. Yet at the same time he had an unexpected sweet, tender, thoughtful side. It was like petting a tiger (which I actually did once many years ago but there was a trainer nearby to protect me then) not knowing if he's going to purr or bite your arm clean off. I'd never felt so alive. It was intense, passionate, horrifying, exhilarating. I'd never seen anything like it. I was in love. He told me that he knew when we met we were meant to be together.

Two weeks later he moved in with me. He had suggested it and I initially said no, that it's crazy (because it was!) but eventually gave in, partly because I hated where he was living and partly because I was so enamoured with him I would have done anything for him. So I agreed to let him and his animal entourage (a pitbull and two cats) move in with me and my two cats. An instant family of 7.

A month later, I was pregnant with his child. I couldn't believe it. I was 42. You don't get pregnant that easily at 42! But I did. This baby was meant to be. I had never planned to have children. The closest I came to being a Mom was dating men that had kids (which I had done a couple of times and I did LOVE their kids but I felt more like a friend than a mother to them.) I just never saw myself as a mother. I didn't think I was mature enough, responsible enough. I didn't know it was something I wanted. Until I took that pregnancy test after missing the first period of my life. Almost instantly my maternal instincts kicked in. I was going to have a baby and I loved her. I wanted to protect her. To do all the right things for her. My whole perspective changed. I wasn't living for me anymore. I was living for someone else. I had always been afraid of commitment (probably why I sabotaged relationships and had a tendency to seek out relationships that were doomed from the start) but now I was completely committed to my baby. I realized what real love is.

Mike said he was going to stick around, said that he loved me and was excited about the baby but 4 months into the pregnancy he apparently got cold feet (or something else happened which I'll never know because he disappeared without so much as a word of explanation. Not even a note. Not a call. Not an email. Nothing even to this day) and took off. It was devestating at first until I realized it was a blessing not to have him around. He was more of a burden than a help and Michelle and I are far better off without him.

Maybe it wasn't the iced capp that got me pregnant. Maybe it was the balloon... After celebrating my mother's birthday (two days after his, strangely enough) Mike was joking around, picked up a balloon and shoved it under my sweater like a pregnant belly. I screamed and pulled it out. "Don't put that into the universe!" But it was too late. A week later my period was replaced by an exclamation point. I was pregnant. I had never missed a period in my life. Not even in my 9 year relationship. This guy gets me knocked up inside of a month! And in my 40s when I'm not even supposed to be very fertile anymore! (He was younger though, 31 years old and apparently the most fertile man on earth!) I guess it just had to be. For whatever reason. He was the one to give me my Michelle.

It stings (he was a scorpion after all) but it's bittersweet. Sometimes I think about everything that's happened and I cry. Then I look at Michelle and smile. He was the worst thing that ever happened to me but he led to the best thing. So how can I completely hate him? I don't know how he could do what he did and live with himself. I don't know if he's just forgotten about us or if he's haunted. I don't know if he was just heartless or a coward or whether he was trying to do the right thing because he was a mess and wasn't fit to be a father. I guess I'll never know. Of course I hated him at first. But at some point you have to let the anger go, for your own sake. Forgive means to loosen, to untie. Holding on to resentment and rage keeps you a prisoner. Forgiving someone who has wronged you, sets you free. I hate what he did but I don't hate him. How can I not be at least somewhat grateful to him for this unexpected gift, this miracle? Michelle wouldn't exist without him. And I can't imagine life without her now. She is my life. If I had a time machine and could go back I would not undo it. I couldn't because I adore Michelle more than anyone or anything I've ever known on this earth. I know that she was meant to be.

One day Michelle may ask me about her dad. I'm not sure what I'll say. I suppose I'll just have to tell her the truth. That I don't know. I don't know why he left the way he did. Maybe I can hazard a guess. He was a broken boy and I couldn't fix him. He never had a family, never had a home, never had a love he could believe in. Maybe he didn't think he deserved it so he threw it away when he finally found it. He didn't know how to be happy. He stepped out of the way so that we could be. He didn't want to drag us down. That's what I'd like to believe.

Life is such a crazy, cruel, beautiful, magical wild ride you just have to love it, survive it, see where it takes you. I couldn't have imagined it would lead me here but I know this was my destiny all along. I don't know why it had to be him of all people. Something in his DNA that I needed to combine with mine to make this extraordinary little human that I adore.

Throughout your life there are so many choices and decisions. Some are monumental. Others seem deceptively small. Going for coffee, or an iced cappuccino, with someone seems like a pretty insignificant life decision in the scheme of things. But one small act can change everything.

I believe in Fate. I believe people come into your life for a reason. Some are meant to stay, others are meant to go. Some are just there long enough to give you what you need -- a lesson, a gift, whatever it may be. I was looking for love and I have found it, in a way I least expected. Not with Prince Charming, but with a Princess. My angel. My little girl.

Light at the end of the Tunnel...

I'll have to make this short and sweet. I can't type for long because now I have CARPAL TUNNEL SYNDROME to add to my list of discomforts!!!

I awoke yesterday morning with numbness and tingling in my left hand, particularly my middle finger (and no it wasn't from giving too many people the finger!) I had pins and needles. I tried to shake it off. My fingers did look a bit swollen. Nothing compared to my feet. Then I noticed that even my face was a little puffy and my lips were a bit swollen. Great. So I'm actually blowing up. My feet are the worst. They have become so big they're almost black and blue.

I mentioned to the doctor that (on top of everything else I'm going through) my left hand felt weird, numb, swollen. She tapped on my left wrist to see if it hurt and I yelped in pain. She wasn't expecting such a strong reaction. She told me I have carpal tunnel and that's it's common late in pregnancy. Great. Each fresh hell that I've experienced lately is apparently "common." I guess that's somewhat comforting. So she gave me a prescription for a wrist brace (isn't it enchanting? So lovely with my fuchsia dress.) I thought at first that I might have brought this affliction on with my overzealous nesting/cleaning frenzy (organizing and clearing out my cold cellar and garage, making a trek to the thrift store with my monster haul, cleaning the house more thoroughly than I ever had etc). Maybe I overdid it. Lifted too much, scrubbed too much. Then I realized that if that were the case I would have injured my right hand more because I'm right-handed and no doubt use it more. Suddenly I remembered that on one of my umpteen trips to the bathroom through the night I had bent my wrist back once while trying to lift my enormous carcass off the bed. It is very difficult getting my big belly up off the bed now. Unfortunately I have to do it at least once an hour to go to the washroom. Each time rolling back and forth helplessly like a beached whale until trying to catapult myself up on my spindly wrists (my wrists are about the only thing that hasn't gained weight. I think they're the same size they were when I was a child.) So it makes sense that I would have strained myself lifting all that weight off the bed. I'm sure that if I tried to bench press 200 lbs I'd hurt my wrist too.

200 lbs actually isn't far off. When I stepped on the scale in the doctor's office I just about fainted. I have now gained close to 70 lbs. I can't believe it. My niece weighs 70 lbs. She's 10. So I could have a baby the size of my niece walking out! Of course a lot of it is water weight and blood judging by my massive legs and feet. And now even my bloated lips. I feel like a freak. I'm huge and ungainly and stumbling around like Frankenstein's monster. You could tell me to stop pouting but I can't help it, that's just how my lips are now! I could console myself that some women, mostly celebrities, pay for collagen injections to make their lips more plump. Somehow that doesn't help. This wrist thing is the last straw. I picked up my brace from the pharmacy and started to cry. Enough is enough. This is too much.

It is so uncomfortable and so difficult moving around. My belly is so big that it hurts to sit, hurts to walk, hurts to lie down, to get up, to be in a car (the seatbelt around the stomach is a killer. Strangles me), to be anywhere, to do anything. Now I have to try to push myself up with only one functioning hand. I am so ready for this to be over. Unfortunately the doctor said there is absolutely no sign of my going into labour anytime soon. I asked about going to the beach, taking a road trip etc. She said go for it. Might as well. My next appointment is on Tuesday (the day AFTER my due date.) She says if I don't have the baby this week then she will induce me the following Monday, if I wish. "Oh, I WISH!" I said. I am done with this! Done. So at least I know if worse comes to worst, I will have my baby by the end of the month. July 30th at the latest. Light at the end of the (carpal) tunnel.

So we went to the beach. It seemed like a nice day. I was surprised how cool it was by the water with the wind. I had some fries and an ice cream (might as well. When you're getting close to 200 lbs, what's the difference?) It was nice putting my big ole feet in the soft warm sand, listening to and watching the waves. The breeze was pretty cool by the lake so I chickened out of actually swimming but I did dip my feet in at least. It's a far cry from last summer when I was living in bikinis and at the beach just about every day. I found a men's swimsuit that was comfy as a bathing suit bottom. Unfortunately even the XL tankini wasn't enough to cover the belly now so I just put a black tank over it. I feel like a tank at this point.

As we were leaving the beach we ran into an old friend. I couldn't believe it. Seems a lifetime since I've seen him. Of course he looks amazing and I look like a giant bag of hell. I said I couldn't believe the coincidence of us being there at the same time. He said there are no coincidences. Sadly his kids didn't even recognize me. Of course the last time they saw me I was 125 lbs in a bikini. I barely recognize myself these days. I am hoping I will get back in shape after the baby. Eventually. Right now I'd be happy just to be able to walk without waddling. To be able to breathe properly. To be able to get up from a seated or reclined position without breaking my wrist. To not have balloon feet and trunk legs, a puffy face and big lips.

I shouldn't be complaining. Some wonderful things have happened recently and I am grateful. I was feeling so full of energy and excitement. There are going to be some rough days, of course. I'm going through a lot. My body is stretched beyond its limits. I'm on very little sleep. It's a lot to handle. Not to mention all the hormones. I have to cut myself some slack. It's hard to feel positive spiritually when you feel so rough physically. In the end it's all worth it. I love this baby. She is an incredible blessing. Even if I miss my due date on Monday (and everything seems to indicate that I will) at least I know the end is in sight and I will meet her the following Monday for sure, if not sooner.

Life is strange. It's not always easy. That's part of the adventure. And when you look back, sometimes it is the struggles that you look on fondly. You realize how much you've been through and it makes you stronger. I will get through this.

My sister suggested that maybe it gets so difficult toward the end (just about every woman late in pregnancy experiences the frustration of "Let's get this over with already!") to make us brave enough to face labour. We want it to be over so badly that we are relieved to go into labour. We embrace the pain because at least it is the end, it is the way out, the way through. We are done with being pregnant. We are ready to meet our babies and begin the exciting new phase of our lives. The frustration trumps the fear. I was so afraid before. I didn't feel ready, wondered if I was strong enough, worried about the pain. Now I'm like, OK let's get this show on the road! I just want to have this baby! I want my belly back. And my legs and feet and wrists and lips. I want to be able to walk again. I want to feel normal again. I don't want to go another week. If I get any bigger I may explode!

Just one more week and I will begin to feel like me again, hopefully. I will get her back -- the girl I used to be. She will be a little different. She'll be a Mommy. But when I get the OK from the doctor (likely a couple of months after delivery) I am working out hardcore. And come next summer, I will wear my bikinis again. Baby and me will hit the beach in style. I have a little pop up tent so baby will be safe in the shade while Mama tans her legs. And I will look back at photos from this summer and think, Wow, was I really that BIG?!

The end is in sight. One woman I spoke to who said that she was bloated and swollen everywhere while she was pregnant also assured me that the swelling went down almost instantly after she had the baby. All that extra blood and water weight just disappeared. Something to hope for! Then again another friend told me that she knew someone who went into the hospital hoping for a miracle after delivery. She brought her skinny jeans to go home in and was shocked that they didn't fit. I won't go quite that far. I'm assuming my extra large comfy drawstring pants and loose dresses will serve me well for a while after I give birth. But I am motivated to get back in shape. I got there once. I can get there again. Just caring for the baby will be a workout in itself. It will feel good to get back into yoga again too. I've missed it.

Hopefully the sore wrist thing won't last either. I'll need my wrists to cradle my baby most of the time! I saw someone at the beach today carrying their baby in one of those Snugli kangaroo pouch things. That can be me next year! I'd rather be carrying her on the outside than the inside. This belly is ready to bust!

Life Unmanned

Everyone has their bad habits, addictions -- whether it's alcohol, drugs, food, work, shopping, etc -- most of us have something that we carry to excess. Something that tends to be bad for us. Mine was men. I was a love junkie. I always needed to have a man in my life. For decades, I went from one boyfriend to another, usually with no break in between. I suppose subconsciously that I felt incomplete without a man. I was afraid to be alone. I thought I needed someone to love me, to tell me I was beautiful, or I wouldn't exist. I craved male attention. And I ended up with all the wrong men.

Ironically however, during the biggest events of my life (purchasing my car, my first home and now having a baby) I always seem to be flying solo. It's a sign that I can do things on my own. I don't need to rely on a man. Most of the men I ended up with were pretty unreliable anyway. It almost seemed like I gravitated toward men that couldn't commit or that I couldn't commit to. Men who would leave me or men that I would have a good excuse to leave. The truth was that I was terrified of commitment. When someone would ask if I was married, I used to joke "No. I've managed to avoid it so far!" Although I was afraid to be alone, the thought of being tied to another person forever (especially the wrong person) was terrifying. I'd sometimes spend years with them mind you, but always had one foot out the door. 

I was torn. Though I was a hopeless romantic who dreamed of finding my one true love I actually ran from love all the time. I would push men away. I would seek out relationships that were doomed from the start. I kept thinking if I found the right one, I wouldn't want to run. I would meet Mr. Right and we would live happily ever after. Sometimes I thought I had come close. Some men can put on a good show and seem perfect in the beginning. Then the truth starts to come out and you realize he isn't what he seemed to be at all. Each relationship would end in disappointment, after a few months or several years. I could never imagine marrying any of them. There was always an excuse, an escape clause. I wouldn't marry unless it was forever. So each relationship was destined to end. Then another would begin, almost immediately. There was never much of a gap between my boyfriends. Sometimes I'd be wanting to leave one and his replacement (usually his opposite, which would be attractive to me at the time) would show up and give me an out. It was hard to let go of one unless there was another to cling to.

So many times my friend got frustrated with me. She saw me go from one dead-end relationship to another. Once while we were having brunch she sat and made a list of all the men I had dated. It was exhausting and depressing. Most of them, she concluded, weren't worth my time. Why was I wasting myself on them? Didn't I deserve better? When was I going to stop? She told me that I needed to end this pattern, to take a break from dating altogether. To take at least a year, alone, to find myself. "A year?!" I stammered in disbelief having never gone more than a month without a boyfriend in the last 20+ years. Yes, she insisted. I needed to give myself time to heal properly for once, to be on my own, time to just be me and discover who I was. It made sense. But it was too scary. I ignored her advice. I always recovered from the demise of one bad relationship by diving into another one. It was easier for me. Human beings will usually take the path of least resistance.

It wasn't that I enjoyed dating. I actually hated it. Embarking on a new relationship was always scary. Putting your heart out there again. Not knowing how it would turn out. But when it was good, the excitement, the newness was intoxicating. After stifling in a bad relationship to start a shiny new one was irresistible. And each time I'd get my hopes up that this could be it. I didn't want to keep dating several men. Just one. The right one. The difficulty was finding him. Some of them seemed to be or even claimed to be my Mr. Right but always turned out not to be. Some of my boyfriends were basically good guys, just wrong for me. Some were bad guys.

My baby's father was the probably the worst ever. Anyone who could abandon his girlfriend and his unborn child, that could promise to be in it forever and tell her that he's excited to be a family together then sneak out in the middle of the night (while I was at work) without a word of warning, explanation or apology when she's four months pregnant, is completely void of character, integrity, responsibility, or any redeeming qualities. You can't get much lower than that. Oh and he left owing me money. Yeah. February was one of the worst months of my life (if you haven't read it yet, see my post "FebRUEary" for the story...)

Of course even if he had stayed, he was more of a hindrance than a help. It's not like he was a partner. He was a dependent. A boy, not a man. Financially he was costing me money (doubled my hydro bill, quadrupled my grocery bill.) I don't know how I would have managed being the only real breadwinner in the house and having to support he & I, a dog (his pitbull) and four cats (2 his, 2 mine though 1 of mine passed away in February because that month wasn't cruel enough already) and a baby on the way.

Somehow I always seemed to end up with men who were unemployed or underemployed. Men that had issues - financial, emotional, you name it. Some men were strong and stable but emotionally unavailable and I wound up feeling alone in the relationship. Other men were sensitive, had emotional depth and I felt a strong bond with them but they were fragile, falling apart (alcoholics, substance abusers.) I had a weakness for broken boys, wounded doves, beautiful but self-loathing self-destructive lost souls. I'd try (and fail) to save them. Then I would be drawn to someone cold and confident, detached, unsympathetic, unfeeling. That felt like strength and normalcy. After the chaos of a broken boy I would crave the stability of a steely man. But I missed the vulnerability, dependency, the depth of the broken boys. Somehow that always felt more like love. For decades I would swing back and forth like a pendulum between two opposite types of men. The truth was that the perfect man would be somewhere in the middle -- someone who could be both strong and sensitive but that didn't seem to exist. It was usually either/or.

At one point, I met a man who seemed to have it all. He had offered me a job with the company he owned. He seemed quite taken with me. At the time, I was torn between two relationships: A friendship and possible reconciliation with a stable though insensitive man I had dated off and on for nearly a decade and a tragic romance with an alcoholic who was destroying himself but who felt like my soulmate. I loved them both in different ways. The "better prospect" man as I'll call him told me that if you're ever torn between two men that neither is right for you. Each is only half of what you need. Of course he was right. I didn't take him up on his offer to go for what was behind door number three. I didn't accept the job offer or the date. Though he was charming, successful and attractive, for some reason I felt no spark for him whatsoever. (Of course not! He probably would have been good for me! I couldn't have that!) He looked great on paper. But the heart wants what it wants and my heart wanted the lost soul who had already dragged me through Hell and back. I ended up staying with the alcoholic. Trying and failing to save him from himself. It was Drama. Tragedy. Romance. Completely irresistible. Everything else in life dulled by comparison. He was my sensitive Pisces dreamer. We were going to sail the world together one day. When it was good, it was the best. When he wasn't drinking, it seemed perfect, beautiful, my fairytale love. I had never felt so loved, wanted and needed in my life as I did with him, before or since. But he couldn't stop drinking and it eventually destroyed him. It got to a point where if I couldn't save him, I had to at least save myself.

Could there be a love so deep, passionate, intense and all-consuming without it falling apart? That's what I wanted. Romeo & Juliet but with a happy ending. Somehow it eluded me.

Overall, men were bad for me. They just seemed to break my heart. They were almost more trouble than they were worth. When your happiness is pinned to someone else, you are left so vulnerable. If you lose them, you lose your world, your dreams, yourself. It's no way to live. Especially for a control freak. I admired my independent friend who was quite happy without a man in her life. If you were happy on your own then no one could take that from you. It would be so liberating. I kept seeing movies about heroines who went on a solitary journey and found themselves. I wanted to be that strong, empowered woman who didn't need a man to make her happy. Somehow I knew, and I'd certainly read about it enough in self-help books (I loved reading self-help books but once I closed the book I wouldn't change a thing. I kept making the same mistakes anyway) that the love I was seeking would never come from someone else. It had to come from within. I needed to love and accept myself, then I wouldn't need a man to define me. It made sense. But after years of low self-esteem (a difficult adolescence left its scars) it was still easier to find a man to love me (even imperfectly) than to try to love myself.

I loved male attention. It made me feel alive. I kept meeting men, falling for the worst ones, getting my heart broken time and again. I knew they were bad for me, but I couldn't seem to resist. And I couldn't just have flings. I'm not the fling type. My heart gets involved. I always had to have a boyfriend. So I'd meet someone, start to date him and he would be my next boyfriend. Usually I'd figure out in the first few months or the first year that it wasn't working, but I'd stay, sometimes for years because I would get attached. They would become a habit. Habits are hard to break. Especially for a Taurus. I loved them, even when I hated them. And the fear of being alone was too great.

I actually admitted to someone, many years ago that it was easier to hide in relationships than to face myself, to find out who I really was. When I got involved with someone, he became my world. I lost myself in him. I stopped doing anything independent or creative. I would adapt to him, chameleon-like. It wasn't their fault. It's not like they asked me to stop being me (well, actually some of them did demand that I become more like them). I just didn't know who I was. I could play so many different roles. Whatever it was that they appreciated about me, I would be that. Whether it was my sense of humour, my talent, my sensual side, my philosophical side. I could be what they wanted. Each one would introduce me to different foods, music, shows, hobbies. I would create a world around him and fall into a comfortable rut. When things would end (as they always would eventually whether he made the exit or I did) it was devestating because it meant my world was falling apart and had to be rebuilt. Luckily (or unluckily) there was usually another man waiting in the wings to help me pick up the pieces so I never really learned to be independent.

Most of my boyfriends I had met in bars. My mother always used to say you'll never meet anyone decent in a bar. My argument was that I'm decent and I'm there. Of course I was probably the only one there who wasn't drinking and shopping for a one night stand. I went to nightclubs to dance and hopefully to meet someone worthwhile. The way I dance (and no one could believe I was sober!) I would usually get attention and have men try to pick me up. Unfortunately most of them were looking for one thing. But sometimes I'd get lucky and meet a half-decent guy.

The sweetest guy I ever dated (and man would he come in handy now!) I had met in a bar. He approached me and took my left hand. Seeing that I had no ring he asked "How is it possible that an incredible woman like you isn't married?" Pretty good opening line, I thought. I laughed and said "I've avoided it so far! Spent 9 years with someone and didn't marry him!" and so it began. He taught me to play guitar and for that I will be forever in his debt. It opened up a whole new world of creativity to me. I had always written poetry. Now that I had the music, the songs started flooding out. To date I've written close to 800 songs (I have over 500 videos on my Youtube channel. Last year, 2011 I actually posted an original song every day if you want to check out the playlist 2011 Song of the Day.) He was kind, thoughtful, sweet, loyal. He waited on me hand and foot. Cooked, cleaned, did everything around the house inside and out, fixed things. He gave the most amazing full body massages and foot massages I ever had in my life. Wouldn't let me lift a finger. Carried my bags, opened doors for me. Put me on a pedestal. Treated me like a princess. Unfortunately he was unemployed. Well, you can't have everything. I loved him but wasn't in love with him. I knew that he wasn't my Mr. Right. I tried to leave him several times and couldn't go through with it. Until one day someone else, a fellow musician that I admired stole me away. Looking back, he was the sweetest man I ever dated. He took such good care of me. He would have been a godsend right now. I miss those massages. I miss having someone do things for me. If only we'd had more in common and if only he'd been able to hold down a job...

Things didn't work out with the musician though it took me years to leave him. He was a Taurus like me. Two stubborn bulls battling for control, we had some heated arguments. We were too alike in some ways, too different in others. He had many amazing qualities and was a great mentor/teacher to me. He helped me to be more positive and taught me to love myself. I will always be grateful for that. Unfortunately it seemed we were spinning our wheels, stuck in a rut. Neither of us committed. We couldn't see a future together, we just didn't know how to let go. Then someone came along and stole me away from him. And no that one didn't work either. Nothing ever worked.

For the few minutes when I was single, I would go out dancing. I couldn't stand being home alone on a Friday or Saturday night so I would hit the bar scene. I liked the attention and I usually wound up meeting someone. But the bar scene can get old. Having creepy strangers randomly try to paw you or grind against your buttocks on the dancefloor loses its charm. Having men assume that because you may dance or dress somewhat provocatively that you're easy (and I would inform them, think again pal, I'm as difficult as it gets!) gets frustrating. Trying to explain for the millionth time that I'm looking for a boyfriend not a one night stand, that I love to dance and I don't even drink alcohol gets exasperating. I needed to try something different. Some people said that you find love when you're not looking for it but I didn't know how to not look for it. Everywhere I went I noticed men. Even flirting while driving. I had men approach me in the mall or at the beach. Everywhere I went I was open to the possibility. If Mr. Right was out there, he could be anywhere. How could you not look?!

People had suggested I try online dating sites. It seemed too contrived to me. I always thought that if you're meant to meet someone that they will just stumble across your path somehow.

At one point I thought I had found Mr. Right. I met him in the most random way. He bought my old car. He showed up at the door and it was love at first sight. He seemed to be sweet, sensitive, attentive, romantic. Everything I was looking for. His work schedule was the same as mine (he had the same weekends off.) It seemed like it was meant to be. But the illusion began to unravel. He lost his job and spiralled into a depression. It turned out that he was an alcoholic. On top of that we were completely incompatible. He was an Aquarius, distant, independent. Apparently the worst match in the zodiac for a passionate Taurus. The more I tried to reach him, the more he withdrew. I finally had to give up. He seemed so perfect in the beginning but he was hiding the truth of what he really was. We tried to remain friends but even that proved a strain. We are so fundamentally different that we could never see eye to eye and would end up frustrating each other. I'm too open and he's too closed. We never could meet in the middle. And he never did stop drinking. One alcoholic in my lifetime was more than enough.

Whether it's bad luck or bad instincts, if there was a tragically flawed man within a 100 mile radius, I would fall for him. One time I was at a wedding and there was an entire table of single men. One of them caught my eye. We danced together. We had a fabulous conversation. He was attractive, funny, charming, sincere and had apparently had as much bad luck with women as I had with men. He said that most of the women he ended up with just took advantage of him. All he wanted was an equal partner, not someone that would live off of him. I told him that I'd had the same problem. We were really hitting it off. All of a sudden, I could see my friend in the distance trying to get my attention. He was miming slicing his throat and shaking his head frantically, obviously trying to warn me that this guy was bad news. So I excused myself to get the low-down. How could my instincts be so wrong? Then I found out the story: While Mr. X was a nice guy, unfortunately he had the worst luck on the planet. He was a hemophiliac who had contracted HIV from a tainted blood scandal many years before. He got a million dollar settlement (not that any amount of money would be enough for destroying your life) and didn't have to work but he was understandably depressed (he could never have a family as he wanted and had to live in the fear of developing AIDS), a gambler, alcoholic and drug user. Oh. Yes, this is the one I pick out of a crowd! He was a very cool person and we did become friends. I obviously could never be anything more given his health issues. Sadly he passed away years ago of an overdose.

Of course most people aren't going to advertise their issues when you first meet them. It's too bad they don't. It's too bad you didn't have to have a mandatory tattoo on your arm, a warning to the world -- "alcoholic," "passive aggressive," "sociopath." Most people try to make a good impression to win you over. Then they drop the bomb after your heart is invested.

A friend, trying to be kind, told me once that it was a beautiful quality of mine that I never lost my childlike innocence, my romantic idealism, that I would see the good in people and hope for the best. The truth was I was probably just blind, gullible, foolish. I kept looking for my Prince. I caught glimpses of him. Each man that I dated had some good in him, some beautiful quality that drew me in but most of them had flaws so serious that I should have run screaming within minutes or days, instead of staying for months or years.

So last year I decided I had nothing to lose and might as well try something different. I finally took the plunge and went to an online dating site. I reasoned that I couldn't do any worse than I had done meeting men in person and maybe on the internet I'd meet a different sort of man. Someone who would never hit the bar scene. Someone shy and genuine, looking for a real connection. Sure! Well, it didn't quite play out that way. There may have been some shy ones but they were probably too shy to write to me. I mostly heard from jerks. I won't say the name of the site. All I can say is that we all know the saying about there being "plenty of fish in the sea" unfortunately online most of them are sharks! And for a vulnerable mermaid, it's probably the worst place to be. I did like the attention. Within minutes of setting up my profile I was getting emails and instant messages. It was actually overwhelming. I nearly had a panic attack and pulled the plug. I met some pretty scary characters who were only after one thing (a self-professed werewolf who nearly attacked me, a Romanian truck driver who kissed my hand, a sexy but very aggressive Russian, a chiselled young Italian stallion whose hug goodbye I'll never forget -- he was very happy to see me!) I met some painfully dull characters that I knew I'd never want to see again. I met some guys that were nice enough but felt no chemistry with. Usually I opted for meeting them at Tim Hortons. It's a safe first date. Even if he's a serial killer he probably can't make a move in public. If you hit it off you can always move on to dinner or something else. If there is no connection whatsoever you can make a quick escape after you drink your small iced cappuccino.

Then last Spring I met the Hungarian. I knew that he had some issues, life complications before I even met him, just from his profile and from talking with him online. I didn't plan to fall in love with him. I just thought it would be fun to meet him. What the hell? You only live once. He was a fascinating character, very attractive. I loved his accent when we spoke on the phone. He was unique. I was too intrigued not to meet him. What could it hurt to go for a coffee with the guy? I told my Mother. Nothing bad can happen at Tim Hortons. Unfortunately it was love at first sight, for both of us. The connection between us -- physically, mentally and emotionally -- was palpable. The way he gazed into my eyes was electrifying. There was an energy between us unlike anything I'd ever experienced. And our first kiss was Heaven. There was no walking away from this. He was beautiful on the outside, a 6'2" slender blond blue-eyed chiselled god of a man. Beautiful on the inside, romantic, artistic, philosophical, spiritual. He was a Scorpio. I had known Scorpios (my mother was one and frankly they scared me!) but had never dated one. He was very intense. Sensual. The relationship was extraordinary. Life was magical. When it was good, it was the best time of my life. We made a road trip to Florida together and I will never forget it. I will always be grateful for that experience. I believed it was forever. But his issues (huge red flags that should have prevented me from dating him at all, but love is of course blind and a little stupid in my case) made it impossible to be together. We could only avoid reality for so long. His life was a shambles. Financially, spiritually, he was lost. He said he was too proud to let me try to save him (it's what I tend to do). He had so much to sort out but had to do it on his own. He flew back to Hungary to be with his parents and find himself. When it fell apart, I was devestated. My beautiful dream was shattered. How could I go back to ordinary life now?

Determined to get back on the horse, like a fool, I went back to the online dating site. Unfortunately there didn't seem to be any extraordinary characters like my Hungarian. There were guys who were nice, but boring. Guys who were sexy, but mean. Men I had nothing in common with. Men who were just frightening. No one seemed to be boyfriend material. 99% were just trying to get into my pants. Though I was admittedly in my sexual peak and climbing the walls, I needed more than that. I needed someone with a heart. And a brain. Someone deep and real and funny. Someone who would challenge me at Scrabble and snuggle with me and laugh about stupid things. A boyfriend. A love. And sure, mind-blowing sex would be nice too. Then I found M...

His photo stopped me in my tracks. Something about his eyes was mesmerizing. Like the Hungarian, he was a 6'2" slim, blond, blue-eyed Scorpio. No way this could go wrong! I must have been crazy. The definition of insanity, I've heard, is to continue doing the same thing expecting different results. M was different from the Hungarian however, and from anyone else I'd ever met. I loved reading his emails. He was clever, sarcastic, edgy, a lot more than just a cute boy. He had a bit of a dark side, but a sweet side too. And he wasn't just after sex. He wanted to beat me at Scrabble. He was looking for a relationship. He almost seemed to good to be true. He didn't seem phased by the age difference (he was 10 years my junior). He said from my photos I looked much younger anyway (most people guessed me 10 years younger than I was). To M's credit, at least he didn't pretend to be perfect. After we had arranged to meet, he wrote me a heartwrenching email about how he probably shouldn't meet me, that it wouldn't be fair to me. That he was so messed up he had no business being in a relationship. He told me about his troubled past -- never knew his father, taken from his crack whore mother at 1 year old, in and out of foster homes, never had a home, constantly moving, no one he could trust, every girlfriend cheated on him, getting in trouble, suffering bouts of depression (the blahs as he called them). On and on. He was a trainwreck. He said that he felt pathetic. His email was so raw, so honest, so heartwrenching that instead of scaring me off, it made me want to meet him all the more! I appreciated his honesty. Most people don't tell you about the skeletons in their closet until after you've dated them a while. Plus, the lure of the wounded dove, the lost, broken boy was too great. I told him he wasn't getting off that easy, that I'd take my chances and have a coffee with him anyway. It was reckless and irresponsible of me to meet with him. But I was living on the edge. I had wanted to go skydiving and never got to. Meeting someone at Tim Hortons seemed pretty harmless in comparison. In a billion years I couldn't have imagined what would happen. That meeting for an iced capp would change the entire course of my life. That I would fall for this guy. That I would have his baby.

I'd never had a relationship move so fast. He joked about kidnapping me on our first date and it wasn't really a joke. He took me home and held me captive for days. I was a willing prisoner. I cancelled my plans the next day because he wouldn't let me leave. And I didn't want to leave. We were inseparable. He sulked when I had to go to work. He asked to move in after us only dating for a couple of weeks. Within a month I was pregnant. It was crazy but it seemed like it was meant to be. We were going to be a family. Something he had never had. And I was committed. I couldn't leave him. He was the father of my child. He told me I was stuck with him forever.

Then he disappeared in February without a word. It made no sense. We had had fights (mostly about money. He didn't have any) but we always made up. The day before he left he hugged and kissed me and said he'd see me later. He didn't want me to go to work. He was sweeter than ever. He gave no indication that anything was wrong. He was supposed to be giving me a check that day. Maybe he didn't have the money. Maybe he was ashamed. I'm sure he had skipped out on rent before. But this was more than rent. This was skipping out on his girlfriend and his own child. I just wish he had been honest. Told me. Warned me. Left me a note at least. Anything. It still baffles me how he could have done that, the way that he did. Packed up everything and left. Disappeared without an explanation. It was like a movie. A country song. A tabloid headline. "Pregnant woman abandoned!" It was the most shocking, most hurtful thing anyone had ever done to me in my life. I couldn't believe it. I still can't, really. He had claimed to love me but he must have hated me to be capable of that. Or maybe he loved me, loved us enough to save us from the monster that he was. He tried to warn me not to date him. I didn't listen. I went ahead and fell anyway, knowing what I was getting myself into. For some reason, out of all the men I'd known and loved, he was meant to father my child. I didn't think I could get pregnant, especially so easily and at my age (I was 42. 43 now.) It was Fate. This baby is a miracle, a blessing and I am grateful for that. Even though it took falling in love with a monster to get her.

And so, since his exit in February, I have been unmanned for the first time, for the longest span (six months now) in my adult life. This is the longest I have gone without a boyfriend. I couldn't date while pregnant (that would be crazy.) Not that I would have wanted to anyway. After what I've been through I'm not even sure how I'd trust someone again. I can't date with a newborn. I'll have my hands full raising a baby on my own. It would be quite a while before I would have the time or the inclination to meet a man again. And my priorities have changed considerably. My child comes first. I couldn't date someone who wasn't worthy of her. (My friend pointed out how sad it was that I didn't feel that protective of myself as I often dated men who weren't worthy of me.) Now I would have to be much more careful, much more selective. A man would not only have to be a good man and a loving partner for me, he would have to be a good father for my daughter. That's a pretty tall order. I don't know if anyone would measure up.

My greatest fear was always being alone, without a partner. Now I have been alone since February and survived. Being pregnant, you would think more than ever you would need a partner for support, physically (to do things for you because everything is harder with the big pregnant belly), emotionally and financially yet I have survived on my own for the past several months. Surprisingly I have rarely felt lonely. The truth is I'm never alone and never will be again. My baby is always there. Feeling her move inside me gives me the most intense feeling of connection that I've ever had with another person. She literally is a part of me. I can't feel lonely because she's always there. I'm also very fortunate to have the support of a loving family and friends to help me through this journey. It doesn't feel like I'm missing anything. In many ways, it's been kind of nice not having a man around -- having my space, privacy, freedom. Living with someone can get on your nerves.

It's strange how much my priorities have changed. I used to love having men look at me and flirt with me, now I feel sort of invisible but it's just as well because these days comfort means more to me than appearance and frankly I can't be bothered making an effort. Men don't look at me the way they used to. Once in a while when I'm driving, a guy in another car will turn his head, smile at me. One day I was wearing a rather revealing top (and there's a lot more to reveal these days. I've gone up several bra sizes.) and the guy in the car next to me was looking over and smiling. I smiled back and thought "Oh buddy, if you only knew what was behind this car door!" I guess he couldn't see the belly.

Usually I don't even notice men anymore. Now I have a radar for pregnant women. And babies. I seem to see so many babies everywhere I go and I'm drawn to them like a magnet. Though, embarassingly, I have to fight back tears, especially when it's a newborn. They are so beautiful it's overwhelming.

Once in a while though I like to look at beautiful men, the way I would admire a work of art. My friend suggested going to see "Magic Mike" -- the film about male strippers, starring Channing Tatum and Matthew McConaughey. Sure. I can enjoy watching a bunch of hot men with six packs dancing! Not surprisingly the audience at the matinee was 100% female! It was a fun film. Better than I expected actually. A man with a six pack who is also a good dancer. Those are hard to come by! It would be fun to find one. Of course in real life it would be nice if he didn't have women shoving money in his underwear. But you can't have everything.

Being pregnant has certainly changed my feelings toward men though. I used to think I couldn't live without them but now that I've discovered I can, I don't really miss them. And I don't care about sex anymore. I don't miss it. My fantasies these days involve Oreo McFlurries and foot massages! Someone who would take out the garbage for me. Maybe the sexual peak that I experienced last year was just my biological clock ticking (unbeknownst to me, I wasn't planning to have kids!) and now that I'm pregnant it's like mission accomplished, don't need it anymore!

Of course I'm sure the day will come when I would like to have male companionship again. To fall in love, to have a man to share things with. They do have their good points. He would have to be wonderful though. A real man not a broken boy. Strong and sensitive, smart, sexy, successful, sincere, sweet, stable, with a great sense of humour. I couldn't settle ever again. I couldn't take the chance. There's too much at stake now that I'm going to be a Mom.

I've been watching The Bachelorette (I did a previous post when the show had just started, now the season is nearly over and she's down to the final two) with more interest this season than ever before. Emily Maynard is my favourite bachelorette in the show's history. She's a sweet southern belle, ridiculously beautiful and she's a single Mom. I have really been rooting for her to find love. She's suffered so much heartbreak. Her childhood sweetheart was killed in a tragic accident and after his death she discovered that she was carrying his child. A single Mom she had a tough time finding a partner for her who could also be a good father to her daughter Ricki. She went on The Bachelor and ended up winning Brad Womack's heart. Unfortunately their fairytale romance was too good to be true and self-destructed off-camera. It sounded like he wasn't prepared to be a father. When the producers approached her, she reluctantly agreed to take another chance at finding love on camera as the bachelorette.

She has been much more cautious this time. I was proud of her when she managed to weed out and eliminate snakes like Narcissistic Ryan who referred to her as a trophy and said he wouldn't love her if she put on any weight and arrogant Kalon, who callously referred to her daughter as "baggage." She kept the ones who were genuine and the total package -- beautiful inside and out. She had it down to three, Sean, Arie and Jef. A tough choice, each one wonderful in his own way. She let Sean go (he's the one in the first photo. I know! How could she say goodbye to him?) He was not only attractive but sweet and sensitive and romantic. They all are. Watching the show has been encouraging. At least it shows that there are good guys out there. Men who can be strong and sensitive. And funny and romantic. Kind and stable. And eager to commit to a single Mom. I am interested to see who she ends up with. I wish her the best. A good man is hard to find. She found three that fell in love with her. (Four actually, Chris whom she let go last week was also a good guy.) Lucky lady. Though it's a blessing and a curse because falling for more than one great guy means she has to break a few hearts. That's not easy to do.

Maybe one day I will find my Mr. Right. Someone beautiful inside and out. Someone that I feel a strong chemistry with, a solid friendship with. Someone I can trust completely. Someone with integrity. It's different now because I'm not afraid to be alone. I would rather be alone than in a dead-end relationship. So if the perfect man shows up, great. And if he doesn't, great. I will not settle for less. If and when I ever date again, I would be so much more careful. I wouldn't take reckless chances. I wouldn't go for coffee with a man that I knew was bad news. I wouldn't put myself in a dangerous situation. My child is my top priority. A man would have to be pretty extraordinary to be allowed into our lives. No more broken boys for me! I've quit cold turkey. I am happy to say that I am not addicted to men anymore! I have proven that I can live without them and I've actually been happier these past few months than ever before in my adult life. And it's a happiness that no one can take from me because it comes from within and isn't dependent on someone else. Now I am overflowing with love. Love that I can share with my child. There is no one in the way to deplete me, change or control me, disappoint or betray me. I have space to be creative. I feel strong and independent. Sure I have rough days, but I pick myself up and realize that no matter what, I'm going to be OK. I have faced my greatest fears and survived. I don't need some prince to rescue me and I don't need a wounded dove to rescue. I am embarking on a new adventure. I am becoming a mother. This is the most important relationship of my life and I am committed.

It's funny that my friend kept telling me I needed to be alone for a year. Now I will be. I'm already halfway there. It took a pretty drastic life change to make it happen -- having a baby! This baby is the best thing that ever happened to me. She's keeping me out of trouble. She's awakening me to a new state of being. She's teaching me what love really is, who I really am, what life really means.

I was always looking for love. I've finally found it. Not in the way I expected, but in the way I needed. I have learned to love myself. I have learned the most profound love is the love you have for your child. I thought I needed romantic love to feel fulfilled. But romance is so conditional, so tenuous. It is a heart made of sand that the tide can easily wash away. The love of a mother and child is eternal, unconditional, pure. It can not be undone. This is commitment. This is forever. It scares me but it feels right. It feels like this is where I'm meant to be. I thought I needed a man to feel happy. Turns out maybe I just needed a little girl.

Maternity Portraits by James Harvey Photography

The magic of photographs is that they capture the fleeting and make it immortal. Life is so precious and goes by so fast. To be able to freeze a moment in time and preserve it is truly magical.

An avid photographer myself, I take thousands of snapshots, obsessively trying to capture and record the story of my life in images. It's really special once in a while though to have someone who really knows what he's doing take your portrait...

A talented photographer friend of mine, James Harvey, (check out his website at: http://www.jamesharveyphotography.com/) offered to take some maternity portraits of me. Seeing as this is likely the only time I'll ever be pregnant (this baby was an unexpected miracle as it is!) it only makes sense to commemorate it with images. I think this shot in the doorway is my favourite. With the light behind me it's like a gateway to the unknown. Light, symbolizing hope. A bright future, full of promise. I like the expression he captured here. I look a little nervous but expectant, happy and hopeful which basically sums up my feelings as I approach my due date.

I also like this profile one, looking at my belly. Some days I really don't feel great but these photos remind me that being pregnant is a beautiful thing. And I know that one day I'll be very grateful to have them and be able to look back on this time and see my metamorphosis into a Mom.

When my sister was pregnant with her first child, my Mom snapped a photo of her on the stairs just as she was on the way to the hospital. I was so glad that we got that photo! I didn't remember her being that big! She was such a tiny thing before she got pregnant. At the time she had gained the weight gradually but looking back at that picture, you just see the end and it's a bit of a shock.

I know that one day I'll look back at these pictures and think "Wow! Was my belly really that big?!"

We even got some close-up shots of the belly. James had mentioned doing maternity photos a while ago but I wanted to wait until I was at my biggest, when my belly button popped out. I think I'm there! I can't imagine getting any bigger than this or I may explode! My skin is already stretched to the limit. I never thought I'd let someone take shots focusing on my bare belly (especially when I'm carrying an extra 45 lbs!) but I wanted souvenirs of this stage in my life. Voluptuous. Full of life.  

Given that I'm a huge fan of Scrabble (and M, my baby's father and I, used to play often) James and I thought it would be fun to do a couple of shots using Scrabble letters... 

"Coming Soon!" It's hard to believe that in a month or so my baby Michelle will be making her debut! Time is going by so quickly. The past 8 months really have flown by. It's still so surreal to me that in a month I'll be holding her in my arms. I can show her these pictures one day "Here you are in Mommy's tummy!" Hopefully she won't be mortified by them when she gets older. (But kids are always embarassed by their parents, aren't they? Or maybe I'll be a "cool Mom." Sure. Could happen!)

"Do you know what you're having?" curious stangers ask me and I very enthusiastically answer "A girl!" I was so excited when I finally got the news (at a 32 week ultrasound) that it was a girl. My doctor was still cautious about the results. When I visited her afterward she cautioned "Well, you can never be 100% certain. It's 99.9% a girl." "That's good enough for me!" I told her. At the 19 week ultrasound they could only tell me there was a 60-70% chance it was a girl because baby wasn't cooperating. Not knowing was killing me. I already had her name picked out from the beginning because I'd felt in my heart that it was a girl all along. We'd done the ring test and it always circled. Everyone had given me baby girl clothes. If it had been a boy, he would have been nameless and stuck with hundreds of pink sleepers. He also would've been stuck with a girlie girl Mom who's not into sports and has no idea how to be a Dad. (Being a Mom will be challenging enough!)

I usually don't like myself in pictures and it's hard to get one of me smiling a natural smile. James captured a couple. I am happy and excited about my baby and wanted that to reflect in the photos. It's been quite a journey so far but I really feel that it was meant to be. When I go through difficult days, I just have to remember that the end reward, holding my baby, is more than worth it. I want James to get some photos of my baby girl and I after she's born. We can juxtapose photos of me holding the belly and then holding the baby.

James wanted to get a couple of shots of me with my artwork. The nursery, as I've mentioned before, has an ocean theme and I painted a series of canvases featuring mermaids and babies. Once I put the artwork up it really started to feel like the nursery. Of course I'm still waiting on the furniture (My sister has graciously offered me her furniture now that my little nephew is getting bigger. I will have to twist my brother in law's arm to bring it here in his truck soon because I can't wait to see the room finished!)

We were heading down the stairs to go outside when James asked me to turn around for a moment as I stood on the landing. I love this shot. I have kind of a sweet impish grin and this angle, from above, really shows off my belly. It looks like I'm cradling a beach ball! After that we took some shots in my backyard, in natural light. He captured a very sweet expression there too. I was surprised at how much I liked myself in the photos because usually I look for my faults. James did a great job of making me feel like a proud, beautiful Mom. That's the gift of a good photographer.

James got a little artsy on me with these cool black and white photos with a shot of colour. To me it's very symbolic -- I'm blossoming, as a Mom. My baby will be my most beautiful flower and will bloom very soon!

James had also brought some blocks to spell out Michelle, my baby's name, and balanced it on my tummy. I really like the photo though I have to admit it's a challenge getting up off the floor these days!

I'm so grateful to James for doing these portraits for me. Though I've gotten several snapshots throughout my pregnancy (from family members or even just snapped myself) they don't compare with these pictures. These are very special to me.

James has done some amazing photos for me in the past when I was playing music. He snapped these at my CD release party for my album Magnetic in October of 2008. It was a magical night and I am so happy to have these shots to remember it by. James, you rock!!!

 

When I came back from Nashville and was writing country songs, James did this country girl shoot with me outside a barn...It was fun working with James and he always has a knack for making me comfortable and for capturing my personality in his images.

  

Looking back at these it seems like a lifetime ago. I couldn't possibly have imagined at the time that one day James would be taking maternity shots of me! My life and my dreams have changed rather drastically. Writing will always be a part of my life. And I will still be singing, but now I'll be singing lullabies to my baby.

This is why photographs are so important. They allow you to look back and cherish each step of your changing life journey. Life is short. Photos are forever! Seeing these pictures transports me back to those moments. I felt like a rockstar! And a country girl...

Preserve the moments that are special to you. If you're looking for a great photographer in the Guelph/tri-city area, give James a call. He specializes in portraits, baby and maternity photos and even does weddings. Here's a link to his website: 

http://www.jamesharveyphotography.com/



Thanks again James!