When You Were Born to Us

For Little Boy Hope


When you were born to us…
We had been looking terror in the eyes;
Terror is balls of tin foil, burnt spoons, pills, patches… left carelessly behind.

When you were born to us…
We clung together, but how deeply we were broken;
Does anyone have energy left for another intervention?

When you were born to us…
Deceived hearts forgave, again;
Conversations made friendly, anticipating you.

When you were born to us…
Words of concern swallowed in preservation of family unity;
Conscious that tongue-biting counts as complacency.

When you were born to us…
Prayers of hope whispered into the dark:
Against all odds, protect you from this Russian Roulette.

When you were born to us…
Safety kept us up at night: theirs, ours, yours;
Calls of concern made, fingers pointing back at them.

When you were born to us…
Open-armed, open-hearted, empty-handed;
All gifts are enabling, they teach… just offer love (it has no resale value).

When you were born to us…
Bodies ached to hold you, longed to cherish you, sought to know you;
Minds ached with the worry we might not get to, forever.

When you were born to us…
Stubborn optimism: Could your tiny head smell just sweet enough to tame the beast?
That which claims a son, grandson, brother, father, friend… from all of us.

When you were born to us, Little Boy Hope…
Heavy snow fell, blanketing us with our hope and happiness and love;
And did I say hope? Lots of that.

This piece of writing was done in a similar style as On The Night You Were Born, by Nancy Tillman. I’ve been reading a lot of children’s books lately (haha), and it’s just so beautiful.

Resolution Ready: Hair Donation Ottawa 2017

It’s that time of year.. our pants are feeling tighter, dust-bunnies are starting to take up residence in our wallets, and our schedules are jam-packed with the promise of happy memories being created.

With the new year just weeks away, it’s also time to start penning those resolutions, big and small.

The Buzz

I got out of the house alone this week (a big deal when you have 12 week old twin babies, so thankful for my husband) to stop in for a much-needed pampering at my favourite local salon, Beauty on Bank (key features for me: non-catty, welcoming atmosphere; high quality Redken products; experienced stylists and colour technicians;  non-inflated prices… and a cappuccino maker). The planning for a big event in the New Year was causing a buzz of excitement amongst staff and clients.

Beauty on Bank is a leader in the Ottawa community by taking part in Hair Donation Ottawa‘s annual event. Hair Donation Ottawa has raised over $370 000 since 2011, and over 25 000 inches of hair have been donated by this fundraiser. The money and funds raised supports child and adult cancer research, simultaneously empowering financially-challenged kids with hair loss by providing them with free wigs.

For a local salons like Beauty on Bank that have volunteered their time, this means a marathon day of cutting, styling and donating… offering long hours of unpaid labour to support a good cause! In preparation for the event, Shelley is also working to recruit hairstylists to donate their time and skills on the big day.

“There are for-profit hair donation services out there,” acknowledges Shelley, “…but can you imagine struggling with cancer treatments and having to worry about the financial strain of purchasing an expensive wig… or worse, not being able to afford one?”

For Erika

Shelley’s logic hit close to home. A couple of years ago, I met Erika at an event that we were both working; we immediately hit it off over the water fountain as we filled our bottles.

“I’m trying to lose weight, so I’m here drinking water instead of ordering a greasy piece of pizza like everyone else. But… I’m always trying to lose weight, so what’s the point…” I joked to her, rolling my eyes as I sipped from my bottle and expecting to bond over stories about life-long struggles with weight loss and obesity.

Instead, Erika surprised me by joking back: “Yeah, I’m the only girl in the world who gets blasted with never-ending cancer treatments and gains weight, instead of losing it!”

Erika’s openness immediately drew me to her.

The next event that we worked together, she had drastically changed her hair… it was longer, lighter, and shinier than I remembered it being. When I complimented her, she smiled and exposed a small piece of her scalp near her ear, where her skin met the material of a wig. Erika explained how because of her cancer and the treatments, she struggled with most aspects of her appearance (changes to skin, loss of hair, weight gain), despite being a self-proclaimed girly-girl. 

“It’s really hard to find and keep a job,” she explained, “because no one wants to hire the girl with cancer, everyone feels guilty about making me work, I have a million medical appointments, and no one really understands how sick I feel sometimes.” On top of that financial constraint, we were both working in jobs that paid just above minimum wage. Yet while I was spending money on the normal (read: frivolous) things that 20-somethings do, Erika was buying creams, wigs, and drugs as a result of this pain-in-the-ass cancer she was forced to deal with.

The last time I saw Erika was shortly before her death, in the butterfly garden between CHEO and the General Hospital. Being told that she had days to live, a last-minute dream wedding was planned by hospital staff with the help of her family and friends (click here to read more, it was awesome).

As she was pushed up the chair in her wheelchair, Erika locked eyes with me, looking from my very-pregnant belly (just weeks prior to the bursting into existence of my twin girls) and then searching my eyes. In this moment, I was stunned by the unfairness of it all: the imminent and untimely passing of her too-young life as I impatiently anticipated the arrival of two new lives.

Still, it was in happiness that I saw Erika as she was that day, a blushing bride on her wedding day. I was overcome by the absolute beauty of her, her elegance, a wigged halo of blonde hair framing her beautiful face.

Beautiful Erika on her wedding day, July 2016.

Get Involved

It seems like this year, cancer has dug its claws into so many. As a community, we have mourned the news with Magic 100’s beloved Stuntman Stu, talented Canadian Gord Downie, and the wife of Ottawa Senator’s Craig Anderson, to name a few. At home, we said goodbye to a friend after an impossibly long battle with breast cancer, a cousin battles courageously with lung cancer, the father of a friend goes head on with lung cancer, my niece’s grandmother contends with leukemia, and 2016 marks 5 years since the passing of a brave, determined family friend.

Community leaders like Shelley, businesses like Beauty on Bank, and volunteers like the stylists, salons, and donors that participate in Hair Donation Ottawa allow people who are struggling with cancer to feel pretty when otherwise they might feel worn-down, sick, or self-conscious. Important too is the fact that this is a non-profit fundraiser, allowing beauty to be financially accessible.

Hair Donation Ottawa’s 7th annual fundraising event will take place on April 30th, 2017 at Algonquin College. Hair donors are expected to collect sponsors (amounting to a minimum pledge of 75$ for participants under the age of 18 and 150$ for participants over 18 years old) and can opt to donate 6 inches or more of hair (non-virgin hair accepted), shave their head entirely, and/or cut their long beard. If donating hair isn’t your thing or you can’t make the event, consider sponsoring or donating!

In the name of hair happiness for a fellow community member struggling with cancer… Interested in making a financial donation? Willing to offer your skills as a stylist? In need of a cut? Contact Shelley at Beauty on Bank: (613) 523-7290 or Hair Donation Ottawa at (613) 791-8391.


Pictured here: Shameless selfie… hubby and I at our family Christmas party this weekend. LOOK HOW GOOD MY HAIR LOOKS. Thank you, Beauty on Bank!

Still short on resolutions? Click here to read about another way to make positive change in your community.

My Sister’s Boyfriend Works in a Group Home: on “Behaviours”, Segregation, Restraint and Community

Last week my (very awesome) sister and I had dinner. I listened as she talked about her boyfriend’s job as a Support Worker in a group home for teenaged youth with intellectual disabilities.

My sister described the horrible events her boyfriend had experienced that weekend at work: spur the moment, him and a colleague filled their work van with the group home residents and brought them to the mall to shop for the day. What started as perhaps a well-intentioned activity quickly devolved into a public crisis: one of the young men was, as my sister put it, “exhibiting behaviours that required physical restraint” (yelling, acting erratically). In his role as a Support Worker, my sister’s boyfriend was trained by his employer to physically (and quite publically) restrain the youth until police showed up. Boasting with pride, my sister detailed how her boyfriend knew and practiced several methods of restraint; when the cops showed up, he was able to “talk their lingo” without it escalating into criminal charges.

Preamble: I am an advocate for individuals with intellectual disabilities, through my involvement with Best Buddies and LiveWorkPlay. I think it was for this reason that my sister proudly told me this story, expecting my verbal praise of her boyfriend and what she interpreted as his heroic, selfless actions towards a harmful individual.

Being an advocate means different things for different people… because of my dislike for confrontation, I believe the way that I contribute as an advocate is by “leading by example”, teaching people in the community (a safe space), for the most part without having to speak about it. A typical volunteering session with Best Buddies or LiveWorkPlay is simply meeting up with my match (a friend who was paired with me based on shared interests and personalities… who happens to have an intellectual disability) and enjoying something we have in common: Zumba classes at the gym, shopping outings at the mall, swimming laps at the local pool. On a large scale, these simple “hang outs” provide opportunities for community members to build relationships with people with intellectual disabilities (and vice versa) outside of the segregated spaces imposed by our communities. On a smaller scale, but no less important, this type of volunteer work allows both me and the person I’m volunteering with to gain new experiences and friendships… because who doesn’t want that?!

Anyway, back to the story.

So my sister tells me this story and the obvious reaction she is expecting from me is praise for her boyfriend for the work that he does. Instead, she sat in a horrified silence as I  divided my rebuttal of her story into several parts, which I will now outline.


In my sister’s retelling of events, she mentioned on several instances the young man’s “behaviours” and how ultimately this was the reason he had to be restrained.

Why is it that we assume that someone with an intellectual disability is behaving negatively because of their disability? I’ve heard this idea numerous times, in particular from teacher friends of mine who struggle with the students “with behaviours” in the classes they teach. Read this study that found that parents of children with intellectual disabilities fail to mention to medical professionals negative behaviour, assuming that the behaviour is due to the disability and cannot be treated.

Behaviour is undeniably casually linked to environment: a healthy, loving, supportive environment produces good behaviours in people; thus the opposite would also be true.

If we saw a loved one lash out, especially in public, would we not first start by analyzing our loved one’s environment to try to figure out the cause of their negative behaviour?

So let’s look at my sister’s story again, imagining that we are at least able to empathize with this young man, rather than reducing his public meltdown to behaviour with no justifiable cause.

Why did he lash out?

Here are just a few of many possible reasons…

This guy is a teenager. Maybe he is conscious of the fact he is being chaperoned to the mall, unlike peers in his age group. A meltdown in his mind might make the support workers see that he is strong and able to make his own decisions, despite everyone making them for him.

This guy is a guy. Maybe he noticed a cute chick who he thinks is noticing him too… but he knows he has no shot when he’s being chaperoned like a child. A meltdown might be humiliating in front of this girl, but maybe in his mind he knows there’s no avoiding feeling ashamed in front of her anyway, and that’s frustrating.

This guy is an individual. Maybe he didn’t want to go to the mall at all… and maybe he didn’t want to go with the people he lives with, who are just driving him crazy! Maybe he wanted to stay in his pyjamas all day and eat cake for breakfast and binge watch 90s TV series on Netflix (me, every day). Maybe he wanted to go biking, because winter is coming and he is already feeling the long days ahead without fresh air. Maybe he had a very good reason to be in a really effing bad mood (me, at least once a day).


A few years ago, I was training to be a fitness instructor with the goal of making some extra money on weekends teaching workout classes to individuals with intellectual disabilities. I told a respected friend who works in the field (hi, Caitlin!) of my plan. Rather than being excited for me, like I had expected, she taught me a lesson I will never forget: no one benefits when people are segregated. When people with intellectual disabilities are segregated from the community in costly group housing, “special needs” classes, and educational development programs that lead nowhere, everyone misses out. Segregation prevents the general population from benefiting from learning how to support someone with intellectual disabilities; it forces the community to miss out on experiencing what people with intellectual disabilities have to offer; and it blocks people with intellectual disabilities from reaping the benefits of belonging to community (safety, relationships, employment, activities). Click here to read more about benefits of and strategies for supporting community participation rather than segregation.

The modern day group home is based on a centuries-old model of community and belonging in a time when there was virtually no support for families of individuals with disabilities (not that there is enough support today, but there was far less). Huge state-run institutions staffed by medical professionals and religious orders housed individuals with disabilities from birth to death. Like prisoners, residents of these institutions were raised in an environment where love and family was either non-existent, or at the very least, temporary; physically separated from their communities and barred from making decisions; and left dependent on and vulnerable to the staff working in these institutions. When researchers and newspaper reporters began to show the depth and scale of the abuse (sexual, physical, emotional, financial)  perpetuated by and hidden within these institutions, many were shut down (yay!).

In Canada, these large institutions existed until very recently. I was fortunate enough to meet a woman with intellectual disabilities who I became very close with. As we were getting to know each other, we shared stories about our friends and families. She showed me a picture she carried with her in her wallet. This was the only picture she had with her family, 50 years earlier, her beautiful toddler eyes wide and full of love as she clung to her mother in a family photograph with her father and 8 other siblings. This family photo was the last one with her in it, taken weeks before her mother left her in an institution with over 100 other individuals of varying ages with disabilities, at only 3 years old. Over the years, her siblings and parents would visit here and there, but eventually her parents died, and her siblings married, had children, moved away.

Unfortunately the closing of these large institutions did very little to change societal mentality towards people with disabilities. While the larger institutions closed their doors, smaller group homes began to open. By their nature, group homes receive financial support from their residents, which covers the cost of the housing, staff, food, and sometimes activities. Group homes literally profit from the dependence of the people they support. Keeping individuals dependent is in their best interest financially, which is often why people living in group homes are unable to take the bus, cook a meal, get a job, or make outside friends… because learning these things would demonstrate someone’s ability to live outside of the group home setting, and this would not serve the group home’s needs. Residents are segregated from the community and taught to be dependent upon staff, making them vulnerable to the same forms of abuse (financial, sexual, emotional, physical) that existed in larger institutions.

The provincial government’s Together we can Stop the Hurt campaign reports that 3 out of every 4 women with intellectual disabilities have been victims of violence; adults with developmental disabilities are 3x more likely to be physically assaulted; and 10x more likely to be sexually assaulted than someone without a disability. This campaign acknowledges that group homes have been breeding grounds for abuse. Relatedly, they detail how “acting out” could be a sign of abuse. Warning signs included aggression, sudden change in feelings about a particular person or place, and self-destructive behaviour.

Segregating the young man in my sister’s story had several negative  results: a public meltdown; a crisis wherein the public eye watched as physical restraint was used on a individual with intellectual disabilities; the escalation of the event to police management. People who witnessed this happening no doubt felt scared; likely so did the young man, anticipating the physical restraint he knew was coming. However, at no point in the story did anyone question the reason the youth lashed out, and certainly there was no investigation into the possibility of abuse.


Group homes are themselves a form of restraint; those within them physically restrained from participating in the community and/or making their own decisions. When escorted into the community, residents are often aware that they are being supervised. They live knowing that “negative behaviours” will result in a response of physical restraint.

I don’t know about you, but I would live in constant fear knowing that someone who lived with me was permitted (not by me, but instead some higher authority outside of my control) to physically restrain me against my will simply because of how I was acting.

Anyway… How is this not work that should be reserved for police officers? Read: Let’s Eliminate Physical Restraints in Group Homes.

In my mind, there are very few reasons why someone should be restrained; in no situation should physical restraint be routine. In the case that it is, rethinking the person’s environment is absolutely necessary, with the goal of determining the cause of the behaviour requiring restraint. Unfortunately, these incidents are commonplace in group homes, seemingly necessitating the training of staff in restraint methods rather than exploring the root of the problem.

Community: Moving Forward

While it’s clear what the problem is, my solution may be nothing more tangible than 2am theorizing about how I want to raise my daughters to value all individuals in their community.

At this point in my explanation, my sister interrupted me and rightfully asked: So where do people go if group homes are no longer an option?

Quite simply, it is my belief that if people are taught and supported to be independent, they will be. Well-supported families would not need to opt for respite or plan for long-term care from group homes. Adequately supported individuals with intellectual disabilities would be able to choose to live independently within their community.

Support from individual to individual would vary greatly, but everyone in a community requires support. There are many different types of paid and unpaid support that people with intellectual disabilities might need in order to establish a healthy living environment within the community: extra time spent learning bus routes to/from the grocery store, support in communicating effectively to maintain friendships or employment, having a written list of names and numbers using images to call in case of emergency (and ensuring that there is someone available at every hour of the day), support in explaining and facilitating financial decisions that will solely benefit the individual, encouragement in developing and maintaining relationships.

It is a common reaction to assume that group homes are protecting individuals with intellectual disabilities (when we know they do the opposite), and wrongfully conclude that supported independent living cannot provide the same form of protection.

Belonging to a community is safe. People in a community feel obligated to look other for one another, as the safety of everyone within the community benefits everyone.

If people in a community were encouraged to look out for each other, we would all be safer. Just like I feel safe knowing another person is waiting with me at night at a bus shelter, an individual with an intellectual disability might feel safe knowing the neighbour across the hall is available should support be needed.

Don’t we want to live in a community where we, and all of our neighbours, feel safe?

If not…  do you then feel comfortable living in a community that allows for pervasive, public abuse to happen? Because the existence of group homes encourage lack of accountability and responsibility of the community while perpetuating the understanding that individuals with disabilities are both different and dependent. Group homes allow for this population to be hidden and sheltered, which ultimately and counterproductively does very little for the safety of the community and the individual.

Like our textbooks detailed the horrors of WWI and WWII, the impact of residential schools on Indigenous families, and the dangers of living as a Muslim post-9/11, it’s my belief that students of the near future will read about how the communities they live in once excluded and segregated people with intellectual disabilities, causing great harm.

Change is slow, but it must be intentional. Will they read that people stood by and watched it happen? For how long? What was the result? Will they read about communities of individuals that worked to change the status quo? Will you be part of this transformation?


Donate time or money. Volunteer… on boards of directors, directly with others, at large or small events, or your skills. Advocate fearlessly, in whatever form you are comfortable with. Challenge your own thinking, challenge how others think, and challenge the silent exclusivity of your community.

Go. Make change in the ways that you can.



Bishop’s vs. McGill homecoming football game (2011) with Louise and Daria. We were too busy talking to pay attention to the game, but we were a good cheer squad from the bleachers! Having friends feels good.

Neighbours in Ottawa: To learn how you can help the community welcome people with intellectual disabilities, contact Alex Darling, Volunteer Coordinator at LiveWorkPlay.
Students in Canada: Looking to expand your circle of friends or try new things? Check your school’s website about volunteering options on campus to contact your chapter of Best Buddies.
Canadians: Click here to find out how you can be part of the movement to Close Institutions in Canada.
Illawarra (NSW) residents: Looking to see how you can contribute to your community welcoming people with intellectual disabilities? Check out this awesome organization: Community Connecting Illawarra.

Some Questions about Mothering During the Trump Administration

Our twin girls Azalea (left) and Olivia, 7 weeks old (November 2016).

In 2016, Donald Trump was elected President of our now much too-close neighbour to the South, the United States.

The same year, my life was changed completely and forever: 2016 was the year that my twin daughters were born.

With so much support (isn’t that the scary part: not that Donald Trump is President, but instead that so many people voted for him) for a leader who is racist, bigoted, sexist, and elitist, I am genuinely worried about what this says about the world that they’ll be growing up in.

In light of this horrific news, how am I to be a mother to these girls and teach them to honestly:

Believe in their value regardless of their looks?

Expect fairness regardless of their skin colour and/or gender?

Be empowered to have a voice and make their own unique decisions?

Feel safe at home and to feel no fear as citizens of this country?

Trust people in positions of authority and power?

Hope for a more peaceful and kind world?

If we can survive the next four years, I think that it will be by the skin of our teeth, and only if people come together to stand up against such hate. I hope my daughters barely know who Donald Trump is when they grow up, but I fear he is the kind of leader whose name is remembered long after his reign, because of the monstrosities committed at his command.

So what can we do? How do we take a stand against this? How do we protect ourselves AND each other from being the horrors in history books that future generations to read about?

To my girls, my little baby girls, Azalea and Olivia: I promise to keep you safe from monsters like Donald Trump. For as long as I’m living, and with every last one of my breaths.

Newborn Babies Anonymous

Hello, my name is Ellyce and I am addicted…

…to newborn babies.

A month ago, my twin daughters were finally pulled from my body. With their first cries that pierced the early morning hours ended a gruelling, bed-ridden, anxiety-laden pregnancy; the bursting into existence of my girls was part of the same explosion that has transformed me into a mother… into an addict.

With so little sleep (seriously, the sleep depravation is real), I have been thinking about what makes the time between a parent and newborn so special that for the rest of the child’s life, the parent is constantly reminiscing on these “too fast” newborn baby stages. Here’s what I think:

When a newborn looks at you, there is no questioning the love that they feel for you.

In addition to their tiny needs and sweet-smelling heads, newborn babies are highly addictive because theirs is a love free from motive (footnote: my husband and I debated this point several times. In his opinion, a newborn’s love is motivated by a desire to be fed, changed, and burped. I maintain that a newborn demonstrates a motive-free love, because I don’t think they have the mental capacity yet to link the things they need with their parents yet, just like they are unaware that their own arms are within their control and attached to their bodies).

The love that adults grow accustomed to receiving is full of underlying motive, given and received for reasons like companionship, fear of being alone, sexual satisfaction, etc. In our society this motive is additionally fuelled by a desire to meet stages of a socially-accepted and traditional lifecourse: girl/boyfriend, husband/wife, father/mother. On top of that, for a number of reasons, adults have learned to question the love they receive: “Does this person love me as much as I they?” “Is this person faithful to me? Will it stay that way?” “Will this person hurt me?””What’s in it for them?”

The love received from a baby is free of all of this.

You’ll see if you continue to read my posts that addiction is not something I take lightly. My family has been broken deeply and in several ways by alcohol and drug addiction… thus, when I say that newborn babies are addictive, there is of course a negative side.

The trouble with being addicted to (your own) newborn babies… is that they grow up. They learn that love can be doled out to others, they learn that you, as a parent, are one of a range of things to be loved. The realization, often too late, that drug addicts must come to, that following the enjoyment of an intense high there is an exposed need that cannot be met without further use.

I have been hit with a double dose of newborn babies, and the addiction hooked me good ‘n deep.


Azalea (left) and Olivia at 3 weeks old. Holding my twins together = maximum dose of newborn baby my body can handle. SEND HELP!


Written: October 16, 2016