Fresh Look

Fresh look thanks to my oldest friend in the book! Spruced Hair Design by Amy Zach. 

Bernard at twelve weeks with his Tante Amelia.

Freshly banged mama and thirteen week old boy in his bluejay pajamas.

B's first go in the Bumbo seat. Not too sure. Thirteen weeks old in his dadda's favourite sleeper.

Into the sensation after all.

Young F and her Tante Lisa working together to sharpen my jar of pencil crayons.

Niece and aunty at work in my front parlour.

Young lady F just days before her second birthday. 

Son and dad in the kitchen. This photo makes my heart lurch with love and thanksgiving. 

Surviving winter and keeping warm together with my little passenger.

Cyrus being a ham for my camera among a sea of toys.

My nephew Elliot comfortable at Aunty Sara's house and giving it away for free to his Aunty Meg :)

Triple exposure mash up of Nik in her lovely handmade kimono holding fourteen week old B times two / Strong Tony with wee B.

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All photos from a roll of Fujichrome 400 / Canon AE-1

Sweet Surrender

There is something so peaceful about a sleeping child. Sweet surrender. My boy is currently snoozing on my childhood blanket draped over the brown wool rug in the front parlour. He rolled and tucked and played so hard he fell asleep in the process. Muted afternoon sunlight shines upon his round head. He is on his belly with his hands tucked under his chest. This is Bernard's preferred sleeping position at the moment. Sleep on boy. I am happy to take a moment to sit alone with my thoughts.

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Sweet sleeper under my most special blanket. 14 weeks old. February 2019.

Impromptu self-timer family portrait in the darkroom set up by IDP. February 2019

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Last night B and I were up together many times. Oh that nighttime dance we are learning so well. Closed eye navigation. He was wakeful and alert, I was in a mummified state. Those shiny black stones for eyes of his piercing me through the darkness. Mama, I'm here. Come scoop me up. I want to be closer to you than an I am. Ok little Bird, I am but an arms-length away but here I come. 

We rocked in the old rocker in the dark parlour and he nursed as much as he could handle and then some. Overfed and under slept never feels very life-giving, but there we were. That togetherness felt good in the dark. Tiredness schmiredness. Sweet, calm, gentle boy was content in my arms, upright. Alright. 

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Atlas on the frozen lake at Clearwater Bay, Ontario where his mama grew up. February 2019

Atlas, Benny in the bear suit inside my jacket and I on the lake on a beautiful Saturday.

Arlo observes her uncle and brother play in the snow.

Rebecca and little miss Evey.

Strollin' Clearwater Bay on Lake of the Woods with my people at four in the afternoon on a calm Saturday.

Arlo takes a load off.

Atlas' long limbs frame his sweet face. Six years old already!

Miss Evey girl.

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These photos are from a single roll of Fujicolour 400 run through IDP's Canon AE-1.

Winnipeg, Manitoba and Clearwater Bay, Ontario; February 2019

Littlest Softie

Eleven weeks old and already scheming / twinkling.

Little sleeper on his dream mat made by his Aunty Daryl, wearing his cousin Elliot's hand-me-down sleeper under a blanket knit by his Great Grandma Helen. That is love!

Oh be still my heart. Top lip of my dreams.

Slice of a soft afternoon. Wearing my favourite socks as I stand on the coffee table to take photos of my kid! Mom alert.

Benny, captured at 11 and 12 weeks old.
Winnipeg, MB; February 2019.

Kiev 60 / expired NPC 160

Glad in your arms

B Bop & Calzone 4 Eva.

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My nearly three month old baby boy snoozes off his wild night on my bed at the moment. From where I sit at the old cream writing desk, I can hear the soothing hum of the dryer tumbling cloth napkins from Cape Town below my feet. Even after two wash cycles to soften the fibre, those eight napkins contain this incredible scent that I imagine to be a combination of local laundry soap washed in salt water. It is a heavenly combo. Some day, I hope to sniff the salty air at Kalk Bay--a coastal fishing town outside of Cape Town, South Africa--alongside my family.

Also from the basement I can hear the gentle crooning of Mandolin Orange. The music of their album "This Side of Jordan" (a true favourite of mine, suitable to play in all types of situations) wafts up the stairs from the darkroom, through an open door, snaking into the hall and around a corner to where I sit. I was just down in the darkroom actually, setting up my 8x10" trays to print when I felt a sudden pang to return back upstairs to check on Benny and then sit down to write if he was still down.

So I came up. B Bop is fast asleep with rosebuds on his cheeks as I settle in. Thanks my boy, I needed to write. It has been too long. Black tea steeps at my left. So, what's new?

I am a mama! I can't quite believe it. Motherhood has been the best trip to ever happen to me! Wild ride thus far :) I didn't expect to fall so hard for the sweetest smells and sounds coming from a little baby. Little touches of skin resting easy against skin in the night. The many firsts. Simple discoveries leading to stars alight in little eyes. Observation of new skills. Leaps of growth in the night that make one's heart lurch at the sight of it come dawn. Learning the weight of my child. Really now, words to form sentences to describe it betray me and vanish. What I can say confidently is that motherhood is constantly teaching me wise lessons (so long as I tune in to them). As a forward thinker, quick mover, weak listener and thorough planner, being moored in the present as I have been in over the last three months as I nurture my child and live moment to moment alongside him is the best lesson I have ever received in the Art of Slowing Down. Being present. Showing up. Building trust. Accepting the wisdom. Applying the lesson. Finding joy in the challenges. Going with the FLOOOOOOOOOOOW!

Talk about swift learning curve! This is not to say that any of that business of learning is EASY. It is not. Not easy, nor glamorous. Humbling mostly. Sometimes I spill tears on my child's head as he eats his lunch and I crunch carrots in bed in nothing but my socks between sobs on the phone with my sister. Ca va. It goes. Our new family grows together. Saturdays at home with my darlings have taken on a whole new sacred level.

Anyway, a few musings of a new mother!

This piece of writing by John O'Donohue below was given to me by a friend written in her hand when Benny was one week new (along with a great pair of sky blue cordoroy overalls). A special gift that I have revisited many times in the last eleven weeks and four days since my son arrived.

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Blessing for a Mother-to-be

Nothing could have prepared your heart to open like this.

From beyond the skies and the stars
This echo arrived inside of you and started to pulse with life
Each beat a tiny act of growth,
Traversing all our ancient shapes,
On its way home to itself.

Once it began, you were no longer your own.
A new, more courageous you, offering itself
In a new way to a presence you can sense
But you have not seen or known.

It has made you feel alone
In a way you never knew before;
Everyone else sees only from the outside
What you feel and feed with every fiber of your being.

Never have you traveled farther inward
Where words and thoughts become half-­light
unable to reach the fund of brightness
Strengthening inside the night of your womb.

Like some primeval moon,
Your soul brightens
The tides of essense
That flow to your child.

You know your life has changed forever,
For in all the days and years to come,
Distance will never be able to cut you off
From the one you now carry
For nine months under your heart.

May you be blessed with quiet confidence
That destiny will guide you and mind you.

May the emerging spirit of your child
Imbibe encouragement and joy
From the continuous music of your heart,
So that it can grow with ease,
Respectant of wonder and welcome 
When its form is fully filled

And it makes its journey out
To see you and settle at last
Relieved and glad in your arms.

- writing by John O'Donohue

Benny (6 weeks) and his Grandpa Cal. 

December 26, 2018. Kroeker Christmas at my folks' place in the country. 

Nikon F3 / Delta 400

Boxing Day on the Farm

Atlas tries out his new flying saucer. December 26, 2018

Grandpa Ed goes for a spin. December 2018

A man and his dog called Blue. December 2018

Uncle Iain pulls Arlo toward the gully. December 2018

The Petkau clan on their way toward the gully. My people :) December 2018

Conrad helps launch Iain and Arlo down the hill. December 2018

Little Miss Evey. December 2018

Atlas tries out his new snowboard. December 2018

Portrait of the Beatty-Petkau family. December 2018

End of the roll portrait of the Petkau family. Photo thanks to Rebecca Beatty. December 2018 

This roll was shot over the course of a very mild afternoon on Boxing Day on my in-law's farm near Morden, Manitoba.

Kiev 60 / 120 Delta 400

No Bones About It

Self portrait with five week old Bernard. Softie; damn! Need to work on my focal length precision. December 2018

Benny Bones, five weeks old in an outfit from his Granny Kim. December 2018

Bath time rituals with mama. December 2018

Chatting with Grandpa Cal. December 2018

Kiev 60 / 120 Delta 400

Birth of a Feeling

Sweet relief; party of three. Bernard Elgin--seconds old--placed on my chest. November 11, 2018.

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The dreaming just comes natural

Like the first breath from a baby,

Like sunshine feeding daisies,

Like the love hidden deep in your heart.

'Donald and Lydia' -John Prine

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Lie down in the light. Benny warms up as he gets his first once-over. Ten fingers, ten toes, white chicken hair? Check!

Minutes old on the warming table and not exactly impressed.

Benny and midwife/ aunty Em.

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I didn't know what I was missing until I felt the weight of my newly born son gently laid across my chest. On Remembrance Day, November 11, 2018 at 7:11pm our son slipped from my body into this world. He was little--as we were assured he would be--but mighty. He took to the breast like an old hat. My gentle little teacher. Pleasure to make your acquaintance at last dear child!

We named him Bernard (in honour of Iain's late grandfather) Elgin (an ode to the first child I ever truly connected with as a Montessori teacher). We did it; we are parents! Iain's grin and exquisite face of emotion told me so in those first minutes as a family of three. Sweet relief.

The idea of penning a play-by-play of his birth is far too great of a task for me at this time. Perhaps I am still too close to the beginning of the story to write with enough perspective to give it any depth. I will say that the labouring aspect of Bernard's birth was incredibly empowering to the woman in me. I have never turned as deeply inward as I did during those long hours of labour. Facing surge after surge of the most powerful energy my body has ever known, I took great solace in silently rattling off a roll call of matriarchs who came before me.

Anna, Elizabeth, Annie, Helen, Kim
Anna, Elizabeth, Annie, Helen, Kim
Anna, Elizabeth, Annie, Helen, Kim
Anna, Elizabeth, Annie, Helen, Kim
Anna, Elizabeth, Annie, Helen, Kim
Anna, Elizabeth, Annie, Helen, Kim
Anna, Elizabeth, Annie, Helen, Kim

These are the names of the women who carried me and in turn, birthed me. They became a lifeline that I held onto for dear life, silently repeating their names while gripping this railing or that until the powerful wave washed over and out toward the shore leaving me bobbing along before the next one rolled in. Bobbing along, gathering my wits. Long, deep and low notes helped me achieve the "loose and low" wishes of my midwife. It was incredible to feel my body begin to open as the night progressed despite sounding like a cow in labour. Find your rhythm and hold fast!

Transition and the physical act of pushing Benny's body out of mine was a different story. There was no solace, no break, no intuitive wisdom from generations of Christmas past. Where did the hard-earned power, pride and intuition go that I had just felt and worked hours to achieve? All that was suddenly replaced by fear and doubt that the child would ever emerge. It was the hardest mental and physical work I have ever achieved in my life. Thanks to the incredible kindness and guidance of my midwife Emily and the attending nurse Kristen, I clawed my way back to the surface and hauled up my boot straps. Puke and rally--Kroeker style. It probably sounds strange but in my despair it helped to conjure up all of the most horrifying pieces of land I have ever planted and funnel that energy into the physical process. The baby did emerge eventually and I thank the moon above for his tiny head.

From where I write I can hear Benny mewing and grunting in his bassinet. Sweet baby dreams to you my little sweet sweet sweet. We are in the thick of it now and I wouldn't trade these precious first weeks for anything. Sacred times over here.

That is all for now. Thanks for reading my story. I shall leave you with this final image. True pride, as captured by my sister Erin who (along with my mother Kim, sweet Iain, midwife Emily and nurse Kristen) attended the birth and assisted me from start to finish despite having a little babe of her own at home. I thank you and I love you.

Most of all, I love my partner Iain. Without you, I would be in a very different place. I have no doubt that I am right where I need to be. Thanks for dancing this funny dance with me. We made a child and he is lovely!

Dear Bernard, thank you for choosing me to be your mama. I love you to the moon and back and I'll do my best to raise you to be a sweet and kind man like your dad.

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Right back where he belongs. This is a portrait of a mother's pride. I did it! 

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Most precious photographs thanks to my dear sister Erin du Plooy.
Kiev 60 / Delta 400

Rest Easy

Nine months along with you; down in the valley. Photo thanks to Natalie Baird. October 2018

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Today marks eight years since we lost a dear woman in our family. Marj, rest you dear woman. What kind of vantage point have you carved out for yourself today, I wonder? I can easily imagine you perched on a branch, observing your children go amongst their days with their children in tow--your grandchildren--growing, growing, grown. Some of them so grown by now they are independent of their parents. Maybe they too are looking toward the treetops, searching for signs of you watching from above. Oh, there is so much to tell. You know it all I'm sure, but it bugs me how much time has passed since we last had a good laugh on the phone. Whenever I was in distress in the past (be it stranded on a logging road with nothing but a satellite phone and a bag of sunflower seeds to my name or in the throes of an adult tantrum that needed to be laughed off) I could call you, and you would carve out time. I miss you for so much but I really miss your laughter in the face of darkness.

Today, as I stood in a funny nook outside of the labour and delivery ward at Women's waiting to hear where my name fell on the Induction list, a woman and her very, very fresh infant were wheeled past the spot where my mom and I were waiting. I couldn't help but laugh at the irony of it all. We wait for life as we mourn death. You would have stopped her bed and all the people around that tired looking new momma and exclaimed how "BEAUUUUUUUTIFUL" she and her new babe were. Everyone would have smiled and somehow you would have gotten away with such a bold move in that split second of incredible tenderness and vulnerability. I honour your incredible spirit today with a good laugh, a good meal, and this old song. I love you. Rest easy, dear one. This one goes out to you. Still makes me cry, eight years and counting...

Ps. It felt incredibly appropriate this afternoon to pick up two rolls of pregnancy portraits. I felt you near that afternoon as I leapt through the valley in my birthday suit. Never heavier, never freer, never happier. You were chuckling to yourself I am sure as Natalie framed up the magic on my Kiev. As we walked toward Honky Tonk, I stopped short on the worn path in my boots and antique wedding dress and pointed to the blue sky. Golden Eagle flying free. Hello! Goodbye! I love you.

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"Viewing parenthood as a process of spiritual metamorphosis allows us to create the psychic space to invite the lessons of this journey in. As a parent, to the degree you are able to recognize that your children are in your life to foster a renewed sense of who you are, you will discover their potential to lead you to the discovery of your own true being.

In other words, while you may believe your most important challenge is to raise your children well, there's an even more essential task you need to attend to, which is the foundation of effective parenting. This task is to raise yourself into the most awakened and present individual you can be. The reason this is central to good parenting is that children don't need our ideas and expectations, or our dominance and control, only for us to be attuned to them with our engaged presence."

- excerpt from The Conscious Parent by Shefali Tsabary

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We are waiting with wonder and delight over who this child may be and what exactly they will add to our mix. Last night as we lay in bed, our bodies pressed close together, we laughed at the petit and wild movements of the tiny body encased between us. What a thing of beauty--to stand just on the edge of parenthood peeking over into the abyss at what may be.

Despite tail-end of pregnancy hiccups and setbacks presenting themselves, I am feeling serene and tuned in to this little creature. Perhaps he will come in his own time, in his own way. Regardless, I am looking at the long game picture and that entails a baby at my breast soon enough.

In the meantime, my hands keep busy with various mending projects that dot the surfaces of my home. Resting over nesting. The walls can wait to be washed. I am content to practice the very slow art of total un-productivity as this small body sinks deeper toward the light. I am ready.

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Runnin' for the roses in a hundred year old Kimono. October 2018

Near Roseisle, MB; October 2018

Kiev 60 / Tmax 400