Thursday, December 27, 2007
Friday, December 21, 2007
Birth
Maybe some people really do forget the pain of labor--not me. I went into labor just as my mother arrived from Philadelphia. After 24 hours of moderate, frequently regular contractions we took a harrowing midnight drive to the hospital--through relentless thick fog that slowed us to a crawl along the 73 and, when we reached a detour, along various highways and byways of South Orange County until we got to the hospital an hour later. When Lisa the midwife told me I was only 2 cm dilated I was in despair.... but she took charge and moved everything along amazingly fast after that.
She made me lie on my side and the contractions got a lot worse, but the labor moved along 3 cm in two hours. She broke my water and then the *real* pain started--but for that I was in the tub, sleeping between contractions, and claiming I'd never make it when the contractions came. Around 6 AM they took me out of the tub to monitor the baby. Was I *furious*! I kept demanding to get back in the tub. Then Lisa the midwife came back from a break: "Well Elizabeth," she said, "You can get back in the tub if you want. Or you can push that baby out."
I pushed. Everyone was in the room--Mom, Keith, midwife, doula, and dear friend Christopher--reminding me to curl, showing me the baby crowning, and generally encouraging me. Lisa massaged and guided me so I didn't tear. In all honesty it still hurt so much I hardly cared about the baby crowning and even when, 26 minutes later, she was there on my belly, I still couldn't quite take it in at first. I was mostly relieved the pain was over. The baby was oddly quiet while the cord was still pulsing. She looked like such a little *human* though--all face and fluid and skin--and when she started to cry she became suddenly very real.
She made me lie on my side and the contractions got a lot worse, but the labor moved along 3 cm in two hours. She broke my water and then the *real* pain started--but for that I was in the tub, sleeping between contractions, and claiming I'd never make it when the contractions came. Around 6 AM they took me out of the tub to monitor the baby. Was I *furious*! I kept demanding to get back in the tub. Then Lisa the midwife came back from a break: "Well Elizabeth," she said, "You can get back in the tub if you want. Or you can push that baby out."
I pushed. Everyone was in the room--Mom, Keith, midwife, doula, and dear friend Christopher--reminding me to curl, showing me the baby crowning, and generally encouraging me. Lisa massaged and guided me so I didn't tear. In all honesty it still hurt so much I hardly cared about the baby crowning and even when, 26 minutes later, she was there on my belly, I still couldn't quite take it in at first. I was mostly relieved the pain was over. The baby was oddly quiet while the cord was still pulsing. She looked like such a little *human* though--all face and fluid and skin--and when she started to cry she became suddenly very real.
Poop
It's a big part of our daily discussion, in between, of course, extended debates on the relevance of Heidegger's Party membership to his theory of _Dasein_. (tentative conclusion: does national socialism really have any bearing on ontology?)
Poop is a great source of anxiety, because they give you this chart before you leave the hospital indicating how many poops there should be in the first few days, and what color they should be etc. (if you were wondering -- black, then brown, then yellow is the desired standard progression). Ruby didn't proceed as set out (didn't poop at all on days three and four, and then not until the evening of day five). Worried Dad was ready to take her to the ER. "For God's sake, man, there's been no brown poop!" Reasonable pediatrician, reached by phone, on the idea of taking her to Urgent Care -- burst of laughter, followed by the reassuring "God, no."
The brown poop arrived on the evening of day five, vesuvially. Our friends Jeff and Kim and their son Rowan were here, and Rowan made reports on the pooping progress, walking back and forth between the bedroom, where changing the diaper was made impossible by the continous flow, and the dining room, where the assembled company ate Kim's generously provided spinach lasagna. Rowan's assessment -- his words said "cool," but his face said "ick!"
Your reward for making it through this post: a reminder that there are lots of photos on the picasa site (though none of poop): http://picasaweb.google.com/Keith.Danner/RubyMonthOne
Poop is a great source of anxiety, because they give you this chart before you leave the hospital indicating how many poops there should be in the first few days, and what color they should be etc. (if you were wondering -- black, then brown, then yellow is the desired standard progression). Ruby didn't proceed as set out (didn't poop at all on days three and four, and then not until the evening of day five). Worried Dad was ready to take her to the ER. "For God's sake, man, there's been no brown poop!" Reasonable pediatrician, reached by phone, on the idea of taking her to Urgent Care -- burst of laughter, followed by the reassuring "God, no."
The brown poop arrived on the evening of day five, vesuvially. Our friends Jeff and Kim and their son Rowan were here, and Rowan made reports on the pooping progress, walking back and forth between the bedroom, where changing the diaper was made impossible by the continous flow, and the dining room, where the assembled company ate Kim's generously provided spinach lasagna. Rowan's assessment -- his words said "cool," but his face said "ick!"
Your reward for making it through this post: a reminder that there are lots of photos on the picasa site (though none of poop): http://picasaweb.google.com/Keith.Danner/RubyMonthOne
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We would love to have partners, companions and children come to the ceremony and dinner--so when you RSVP please let us know how many of you plan to attend.
