Every so often, I trip over something in my old blog drafts that’s so real and unvarnished, I can’t help but dust it off and update it. This one’s from November 2012 on my very old CanadianDoomer.ca and then republished in 2015 on JustPlainMarie.ca – back when Rina was a brand-new baby, I was still healing from childbirth, and our life was a circus act involving a newborn, a slum apartment in the city, and the looming prospect of moving off-grid.
Babies, Burnout, and the Big Cabin Experiment
Rina was at that magical stage – just under three weeks old, and already worrying a small army of midwives, doctors, and (because life is never simple) the occasional social worker. See, every one of my six kids lost a lot of weight right after birth, then struggled to regain it.
They’re all healthy now but let me tell you: In those first days, every feed feels like a life-or-death negotiation. You don’t relax until the baby regains their birth weight – that’s the “deadline.” After that, you’re allowed (by law of new-parent exhaustion) to maybe sleep for longer than forty-five minutes at a stretch. Aonghus, in fact, currently 5’10” at 18, and with two hollow legs, spent four days in the hospital because he missed that deadline.
At the same time, we were wrangling with our city apartment – a place so lively the mice and ants had sublets, and the police made regular appearances because it was “that sort” of building. And, as if that wasn’t enough, we were knee-deep in paperwork and packing for our grand experiment: moving to an 800-square-foot, hunting-cabin-turned-home deep in the Nova Scotia woods. We moved the following April.
Spoiler: it was an experience. Amazing, yes. But also, let’s just say, it aged me faster than raising six kids.
Also for the record: Eve was born in that cabin, without running water or electricity, an hour from the nearest hospital. Would not recommend that for beginners – Eve was my sixth child, EJ had been hands-on with our other three, and he was a trained EMT. We also had our local fire department on alert in case there were issues.
Parenting, Canadian Edition: The Car Saga
Meanwhile, EJ was coming home from work every day looking like he’d lost a fight with a bad flu – headaches, nausea, sometimes actually throwing up, always exhausted. All the tests said he was fine. We’re pretty sure the doctor thought we were both just dramatic.
But here’s the kicker: every weekend, when he was home, the symptoms magically vanished. Coincidence? Spoiler: it was not.
Enter Canadian Tire. The mechanic, in true Maritime fashion, took one look at our car and said, “You folks been sick a lot? Headaches? Nausea?” Our exhaust system, it turned out, was more hole than metal, and it was venting carbon monoxide straight into the car.
So every drive was a low-dose gas chamber. Fun fact: Not something you want to put on your to-do list.
Pro Tips That Maybe You Don’t Need
- Don’t let your car’s exhaust system rust out. Yes, even if you’re busy. Yes, even if you’re moving and sleep-deprived. Yes, even if you’re poor.
- Even a small hole can leak carbon monoxide into your car. A big hole? You get the idea.
- Chronic, mysterious flu that disappears on weekends? Maybe check your car before you check yourself into a medical mystery drama.
What Actually Matters
The happy ending: Rina gained her birth weight back (and then some). EJ survived his surprise foray into carbon monoxide poisoning. And by spring, we were out of the city and into the woods for three years of off-grid adventure – complete with composting toilet, wood stove, and a big bear that got into our compost one spring.
If you’re feeling weirdly unwell and nothing makes sense, check your car. And if you’re juggling a newborn, pest infestations, a move, and an existential crisis all at once? You’re not alone. Survival sometimes looks like stacking up enough tiny victories that you can breathe easy – literally.
Originally published on CanadianDoomer.ca (November 13, 2012), republished on JustPlainMarie.ca (2015), and updated for Just Plain Living, 2025. All content © Marie Beausoleil.