On the eve of her Birth.
Nothing has made the passage of time more evident than having a child. It has gone even more quickly with another baby thrown into the mix.
I remember waking early in the morning with a few contractions. I spent the morning wondering if this would be the long awaited day but not really believing it would ever come (or that I would get lucky and have both babies come early.) David and I got on with our routine not wanting to act prematurely. The day progressed, contractions stopped and started just as they had for the weeks proceeding. We went for a couple walks (saunter would be a more
accurate description since Ale was with attempting to ride his tricycle). A trip to trader
joes was made, a random man comments on my enormous abdomen, a
courtesy smile is returned.
Dinner was made. (Salmon chowder if you're curious). The evening goes on and the contractions pick up. Tiff and Kelly are called--just letting them know that this might actually be happening for real. The kitchen is cleaned. Birth tub begins to be filled. Bread ingredients are put in bread machine.
The birth dance begins.
Sheila
Kitzinger is the great social anthropologist on the subject of birth. I love her writing and stories of birthing styles as known around the world. She writes at length about the birth dance. That is, the way a laboring woman moves and acts when permitted to labor without constraint or inhibition.
The lights were out as I finished cleaning the kitchen. A contraction would come, my head would fall into my arms on the counter, my knees bent, hips swayed
. I gave into the labor. In retrospect, this was very different from my experience with Ale were I spent the beginning on my tip toes, rejecting what was happening to my body.
Margo or Kelly would
occasionally come in, feel my contracted stomach, glance at their watches, step aside. They were casual observers. Letting me follow the
rhythms of my own body.
My birth experience with Ale was one of step by step guidance from the midwives. And constant
attendance by David or Tiff. I needed that. I asked for that. I could not have birthed Ale without that type of intervention and involvement.
Yeva's birth was about submission. To myself, the body, the baby, and the process of birth.
The birth tub was filled. Margo poured water over my back. The lights were out. My fondest memory of that night was Ale watching Nacho
Libre in the living room and how I could see him from the back and how Tiff sat beside him. I never would have invited Jack Black to my birth on my own initiative.
I had to get out of the tub, walk around, reposition the baby. It sucked. It hurt. Tiff held my hands as I tried to walk through those contractions with knees lifted high.
The tub was re-entered. The baby still wouldn't turn. The tub was exited.
My water was broken. My relationship with Kelly and Margo was one of love and trust. They recommended breaking my water, and I was fine with that.
5cm to full
dilation in one contraction was quite a feat. I pushed. No one told me when. (I skipped every other contraction). I roared like a lion. I was in my world. No hands were held this time. This was me and baby.
45 minutes later
Yeva entered the world, a little blue, insanely fat, 10lbs of
smushy love. David told me it was a girl. I shrieked with joy. (At this point I'll give the cliche statement that I would have been content with either gender, which is true. However, to have been given a girl, melted my heart with an overwhelming delight.)
Everything is cleaned. The placenta examined (largest one the midwives had seen in a while...) Everyone leaves. David and I are left to bed down for the night with our sweet new one.
Oh how she cried that first night. The girl still has pipes that are ear splitting. I got up in the middle of the night, Ale woke up, David told me to go say good night. I walked into his room wearing a t-shirt and hospital issued mesh underwear. I expect Ale to say something sweet like, "you had a the baby" or "Come cuddle me mommy" but instead the first words out of his sleepy mouth were, "Hey mom, can you go put some clothes on?" My sweet boy. No one says things quite like you.
Yeva's birth was a transformational experience for the both of us. What a gift, this sweet child, full of life, obsessed with her belly button, in love with her big brother's mop of hair, willing to give Ale a fair fight, a little bit naughty, and not at all compliant when it comes to night sleeping, has been to David and me.
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