Where We Are

It's 9:18 in the morning. It's a strange morning for me, realizing where we are, where we were and where we were supposed to be, at this moment in time.

Exactly one week ago at this moment, I was giving birth.

Today, I am listening to the sounds of Veggie Tales singing to my two older children in the living room and the gentle breathing of my newborn beside me on the bed.

Where I should be, is still fully pregnant and enjoying the final days of my family of four with the beginning of my time off from work.

Best laid plans, I suppose.

The adjustment is going well for us (knock on wood) - Lila, whom I feared would be envious, has been anything but.

I'm going to call him Sweetie Pie, she told me yesterday, grinning over his cradle.

The Boss has been helpful, both with the baby, and with his sister (who has a cold and needs constant nose wiping and hand sanitizing.)

It occurred to me last night that there are entire stories of happenings here that I haven't posted here. This bothers me, only in that this has essentially been my journal of motherhood. It's where I've been able to come with the scraps at the end of my day and make something beautiful, even if only for myself.

Knowing how fast it all goes, how quickly a week, a month, a year, can pass - I wonder, how many small moments have I neglected to keep for myself here, or anywhere? Or perhaps, because this is a fruitless question, the better one to ask is - how many will I capture in the days and weeks and months to come?

All Saints Day

. . . for when a child is born the mother also is born again. ~ Gilbert Parker

The arrival is impending, looming just beyond this mountain of a night I'm supposed to make it past - without running around the house like a child before Christmas. It's going to be impossible to sleep through the whisperings of my mind...tomorrow, I'll hold her and know beyond words that I've known her forever.

My husband and I are waking before dawn to make the hour long drive to the hospital where they'll hook me up to monitors, pump me with IV fluids, then break my water. If all goes well, I should be meeting her by the late afternoon.

And hopefully, I'll be able to post her story and pictures here soon.

Thank you for all your thoughts and prayers and notes of encouragement.

Birth

What I remember most is sleeping. A thick, warm slumber, like being cozied in a cocoon. Four in the morning, the tender touch of my husbands hand on mine. His palm rubbing small circles on the back of my hand. The green-blue ribbons of vein vibrant beneath my thin skin. The stark room was large and washed in cold florescent light. My arm had slid from beneath the thin blankets and was resting on the chilled metal railing.

Sleeping and waiting. Each hour, to be opened and prodded. Three and a half centimeters at three-thirty. Five at five. The current of my body coarsing forward in unison with the tides of time. Miraculous.

At six, they broke my water, flooding me in warmth. A bath. And an epidural. Shuddering and damp I fell back against the pillows, breathing. Waiting. One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, three-one-thousand. Relief. Exhale. And, I fell back into sleep, warm.

At nine, we were ready. He and I, ready for life. Four pushes, maybe five. Easy and natural. I was born to do this, I thought. Though he had done most of the work, sliding himself down the curve of my body, pressing on his own - while I sat, watching a contraction peak in jagged angles across the monitor thinking Thank God for epidurals.

Nine Forty-five. He was on my stomach, streched with his arm beneath his head, a tightly curled fist on my chest - as though I'd given birth to Superman in mid-flight. We all remember this, my mother, husband and I, as though it's a photograph that we can pass between one another and smile upon. His heroic posture belied only by the expression of complete shock on his small face.

Welcome to the world, Little One.

A good friend of mine is giving birth at this hour. I hope she is resting well and listening to her body. I hope that her labor is easy and that her body is strong. I pray that she is as blessed with her little boy as I have been by mine. Praise God for safe labors and healthy babies. For the beauty and miracle of life. For the gift and the journey.