I was given this hooded duck towel at my baby shower when pregnant with my little Loukas Fox. It is his favorite and he currently is asleep wearing this towel layered, of course, over his beloved green blankie. He dragged the billed terry cape from the laundry after several minutes of the no-nap-today sobs and curled up into my lap. A rare moment around here: when Jasper is busy exploring (and tasting anything he can find) that my squirmy spider-man in training budding little boy might melt into my frame and lock eyes with mine, the weight of his entirety resting in the nook of my arm and sprawling across my pretzeled legs then stretching beyond... onto the floor where we sat. Oh that he will stay there for a moment is a gift, that he allows a song and a multiple kiss cuddle sesh is a treasure. Tonight my mama heart soared as my Fox stayed a while. A treasure trove. I reminded him that tomorrow is his Birthday, that when he wakes he'll be 3. He whined that he wanted to be 2 when I said he wouldn't be 2 anymore, and so I told him that he'll always be 2. Tomorrow he'd be 2, and three. Just as I am every age I've ever been in here... somewhere...
***
So as I settle my boys to sleep and ready myself for a quiet night alone (the wee ones are bound to stir a few times each over the next couple of hours before I go to bed, I'm sure of it, and jerrmy will be home from another Saturday night at the restaurant before too long, but...) I am drawn to take the time to reflect on that as this is the eve of my sweet boy's birthday, this is also the eve of my birth as a Mother. I: am a mother. And how I got here is such a beautiful part of my story. I wrote a
birth story of Loukas' birth the days following his birth that I shared with some friends and it is listed on our midwife's website:
here. And I'm so glad that I have a record to reconnect with that Mother I had just become those early days, but tonight I want to recall Loukas' beautiful birth as I do today. Of course, I will likely read and re-read those first words written tonight and tomorrow, but for now I just want to take some time- my free time this evening- to remember...
December first, 2009 was a sunny day. It was not chilly but it was not warm, maybe it was a little chilly, it seems like I was wearing sweater leggings... One of those late fall days that make Ozark living a dream: crisp, clear, colorful and breezy. I remember that I had had an episode of pregnancy insomnia early that morning, had woken around 5am and ate some granola (probably with goat milk keifter-- because I was obsessed with goat milk keifer) and watched this funny Tina Fey movie called, Baby Mama. I was 4 days past my expected due date for delivering my baby and was by then pretty birth obsessed. I don't remember if I went back to sleep or not but I recall that late that morning we ate a pancake breakfast, and somewhere in there the phrase "pissed that I'm still pregnant" was tossed about. Jerrmy left for work- to check in and gather some food stuffs for us. That would be the last time I'd be alone with my pregnant belly. I showered and rested and dressed (I think) I can't recall exactly what I wore. Jerrmy came home and we walked around our neighborhood which has lots of inclines as we lived (and still live) in a very 'hilly' area. I can't recall what we talked about, but I am certain there was lots of anticipation and I was pretty determined to have a baby that day. So we walked a huge lap around our mountain. I had some uncomfortable contractions and remember thinking I had to keep it up. We went home and ate some lunch. Tiny little sandwiches. I wasn't very hungry so left mine in the fridge for later. We drove to the coffee shop where I used to barista for some hot chocolates, and took to the park for a walk. On the way, I was experiencing some pretty crampy like sensations and jokingly said, (an Amy Pholer quote from Baby Mama) "I feel like I'm shittin' a knife." We both laughed. I was annoyed with the traffic on the way to the park. Needed out of the car. We made it half way around the walking trail before I stopped and waited out a contraction.
I sit here now and I want to know what all of this looked like and felt like for my husband. We had been married three weeks previous to this birth-day we were sharing that day. He is such a wonderful man, that husband of mine. I am so grateful. This day is his too. I did all the work, but he did a hell of job assisting.
So we left the park after one go around. I wanted to get home. I remember standing leaning against the car having a contraction there out in the open on the side of the street as people drove by, walkers crossed the street in the distance and I remember feeling so proud and excited. So proud that these strangers were seeing me in this moment at the beginning stages of my work to get my precious baby out of my body. I thought, I wonder if they noticed that I am huge pregnant and that I am very possibly (that I was) in labor...
There were no more funny movie quotes. At home Jerrmy, moved to get the birthing pool set up in our kitchen. Time was passing quickly. The contractions were increasing. I called the midwife. She was at our friends, Jeremy and Cara's, house who were also expecting a baby that month- I told her of my state, that my contractions were painful. She was excited and cheerful which was pretty damn bizarre to me. For I could not see the bigger picture-- the absolute magic that she had made her life's work. The birth that was to come. That we were headed into a night of beautiful work, that before the next day's light I'd hold my Son. I just stood there leaning against the door jam annoyed at the wrinkling of the plastic as Jerrmy taped it to the floor.
No one can ever be prepared for how giving birth feels. However it feels for each woman is their own, really. And as I sit here, I have no attachment to the pain that I experienced that evening, through the night and into the morning. My memory of the contractions are but that. Long gone. I can recall the other little details that at the time I was not attached to but now are all that I associate to that night. Like the phone call to my mother where she sweetly told me it'd all be over soon, 11 or so hours before the baby actually came. (She had seven children, no labor longer that 5 hours, I believe the legend goes)
I was panicking once the active labor picked up. Contractions were close together. I was tense and fighting. I cried sad tears and said prayers of gratitude. There were deep deep deep feelings of gratitude. I had been very grateful to get to be pregnant and I remember my thoughts going to a place of letting go of the pregnancy. That it was over had me in tears. All the while, I kept forgetting that I was about to meet my baby. Jennifer, our midwife, checked my cervix to find there had been little change. We were still in the early stages. I knew I needed to do something different. I laid still for as long as I could, bolstered very comfortably on our bed finding sleep or a state like sleep around having contractions. Then Jerrmy and I took to the outside, to walk around our leafy yard under the full moon. There was a light cloud covering. When I wasn't working through a contraction I was tromping through the leaves. We returned inside. I can't be certain how long we were out there. Not long. I wanted water on my body, so I took a hot shower and brushed my teeth. I had had a labor outfit picked out, my favorite comfy skirt and this sheer pink top that was reminiscent of the top the fierce beautiful dark skinned woman wore on the documentary about home birth that Jerrmy and I watched together months before we conceived our baby, unplanned.
I suited back up in my labor fatigues and decided to try my relaxation CD. Laying down was pretty troublesome. Super hard to get into position, and then once I did and the music was going I just laughed. The tracks that I had used in practicing massage therapy and had taken long baths relaxing to in preparation for birth were only causing me to laugh. I felt pretty new-age ridiculous. The idea that these sounds were at all going to help with the work my body was doing that my mind was trying to cope with was... comical. But that was me... then, who knows- something like that might work for me now... no judgement.
... to be continued...
