Correlations between renos, pregnancy
I have now come to realize that going through a home renovation is like pregnancy and childbirth.
There is the big announcement at the beginning, sometimes some pics of a growing belly and then presto: a baby. There is seldom ever documentation of what really goes on behind the scenes between the big announcement and the arrival of the bundle of joy.
It wasn't until I became a volunteer doula that I realized childbirth is an arduous affair. It wasn't until I bought a house that I realized buying and renovating a house is an arduous affair.
If my tally serves me, I have been to about 17 births. There are many correlations between what I witnessed in the birthing room and what I have witnessed during the renovations of my new home.
CORRELATION 1: THE BIRTH PLAN
A lot of moms would come prepared with a detailed birthing plan. Pages and pages of how they wanted their birth to go. After going through a few births, I came to realize something — nothing ever went according to plan. I would tell the moms that a plan is great but don't plan on the plan. Don't be disappointed if something causes your plans to go awry. Something will always go awry and you surely won't be guaranteed to have the smooth birth your sister did.
When I bought the house, I did a detailed walkthrough of it with my carpenter. Francis and I made a plan-of-attack — a birth plan for my new house. We created a vision for what I wanted the house to look like, the work that needed to be done, what my budget was and how long it would take. And just like a birth plan … it hasn't really gone according to what I envisioned.
First things first, just like childbirth — it has taken a lot longer than I expected. In August, my mother said she didn't think I'd be living in the house until November. November? I thought she was out to lunch. Real life renovations are nothing like reality TV renos. Six weeks. On time. On or under budget. By golly, my mother was right — I wasn't living in the house in November or December, for that matter.
Oh, and the birth plan my right-hand man Francis and I came up with? We gave up on it. House labour has not gone according to plan. Rotten floors, leaks, COVID delays, painter with a broken wrist, increase in material costs due to COVID and wrong items delivered.
CORRELATION 2: IT’S UNCOMFORTABLE
I remember when a first-time mom I was paired with had started having contractions and she was tracking them on an app on her iPhone. As she tracked her pain levels, she said, "Oh, I can handle this."
In my mind, I was thinking, "Girl, you are in for something you can't even imagine yet." A few hours later, when contractions really started to happen, she was screaming for the epidural. This gal who was usually calm and serene was literally begging for me to stop the pain.
Though not as dramatic as that — renovations get really uncomfortable too. I have been living out of piles of rubble for months — my stuff is between my bunkhouse at my parent's home, a storage locker and my boyfriend's house. My usual fashionloving self has been rotating between about eight pieces of clothing — most of which have paint on them at this point. Thank goodness for everything being virtual for my work.
I got dressed for NYE by blindly digging through a suitcase I thought might have something appropriate in it. I managed to find a black sweater. When my mom saw me, she said, “You should put a nice necklace on with that.” To which I replied, “If I knew where my jewelry was, I would.”
I have become immune to seeing large amounts of money flow out of my bank account. That budget I mentioned earlier … it was blown a long time ago.
I'd like to think I'm an incredibly patient person, but even my patience has been tested.
For your enjoyment, just one example.
The other day, we zipped up hazmat suits to blow insulation into the attic. The store I bought the insulation from offers a fibre blowing machine for free when you buy your product from them. Two skids of insulation were delivered, along with the machine. We needed to rig up an incredibly acrobatic setup to get the pipe into the house and up to the attic via the hatch in my bedroom. John was in the attic, I was the middleman going up and down the ladder to keep communication going and Francis was feeding the machine outside.
Not five minutes into the adventure, the machine died. We called the store to let them know and they arranged for a second machine to be sent about an hour later. The exchange was not an easy task for the guys delivering it. The machine was huge.
A few hours later, we were up and running again. Insulation flowing and thumbs ups given.
We got about 60 per cent through the pile of bags when bam — the pipe seemed to be blocked. Francis turned the agitator off and removed the pipe. Insulation suddenly blew everywhere. Francis looked like Santa Claus. Through the window, I could read his lips — I can't type what I think he was saying. Upon inspection, they realized a belt had come off inside the machine. We rang the store again and found out that the only two machines were the ones we already had and now they both were broken.
My amazing flooring guy was inside the house and heard the commotion. He quickly rang another shop and burned up there in his cube van to get their "nearly new and hopefully wouldn't break down machine." We were off to the races — again.
Just like witnessing childbirth gave me great respect for women and health-care practitioners, going through a home renovation has given me great respect for tradespeople. Just like in childbirth, you must trust that people around you know what they are doing. When I walked into the house one day and I could unexpectedly see through to the basement through the floor, I had to trust that Francis knew what he was doing.
Right now, I am at the pushing stages of home labour. It is really exhausting, and at times I've felt like I just might not make it to the end, but I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.
I will have my bundle of house joy soon.
With an insatiable love for human behaviour and circumstance, Emilie Chiasson absorbs the world around her and turns her experiences into relatable stories. From her hometown of Antigonish to her travels around the world, she never fails to connect with the characters and perspectives that make life a bit more colourful. Read more at https:// emiliechiasson.wordpress.com/.