I got a bit mixed up today. First, while at my mom's (letting Sophie do some chores while I stole a few quarters) I unexpectedly came upon the receptacle of my father's remains. It was a simple, solid, handsome and surprisingly heavy object - and something I think he would have liked. When I think of cremated remains I remember the small series of hilarious scenes from The Big Lebowski; one of our family's favorite films and vignettes my father himself laughed at.

There were photographs floating about the house, too, ones I hadn't seen in years, if ever. Unfair. Sad. I miss him. The "missing" has not changed one ounce; if anything it is more painful in it's perpetual truth: "Hi, still here! Hey, you still don't get to see him anymore, ever. Finis." Today I was realizing as I drove along Riverside that the arguments I used to have with him, well, those were gone too. No one was going to challenge me about the stuff he challenged me about. My occasional exasperations with him now seemed petty and I find it an irony that I would wish for them again. Hey, I'm still glad I lived them out, thought of him as a pain in the ass at times, and often - and this is my own legacy in my family - sought to "agree to disagree."*

Tonight I forgot if my father's death preceded my anniversary this year and had to double-check. I have been thinking about seven years of marriage and almost as many of family and feeling very proud of myself and my husband. My kids are great. They are healthy, smart, social, relaxed, enjoy a tremendous amount of freedom, and are a constant source of joy. My husband is a hero and my friend. He has my respect but, unfortunately, weathers many of my bad habits. My life has been transformed through difficulties and good fortune both. I am happy with what I have learned and energized to do the work I do every day. I have proven myself in areas I had no idea I had strengths. I have failed in areas that have instructed me, painfully, of my limitations. I feel strong enough that it might be OK to fail again, to make mistakes, which is something I wasn't strong enough for say, three years ago.

* My friends know I actually got this doctrine from the film Anchorman.

Labels: film, milestones, the Ghost of Christmas Bastard

Last night just after midnight I'm lying in bed in my husband's arms and he's asking about the life I want for our family. We talk, talk. I get sleepy. I turn my back to him and move in close. He tells me "Happy Anniversary" I think, and kisses me. We wake up this morning with two large children sprawled in the bed, reminding me alarmingly of parasitical progeny pushing the host / parent out of the nest. Ralph makes coffee and lunch and heads off on his bike.

Tonight we'll be at two separate kids' events for a while: he watching Sophie play soccer and me at the Orientation for my son's preschool. Family life! One thing about it I've learned, no matter how it looks from the outside, at least in my case each day is fiercely and gladly lived, not a day passing I'm not grateful for the time we have.

Labels: family life, marriage, milestones, Ralph

Big news today in our house: tonight in the bath my son retracted his foreskin. You have to understand that for a year and a half I've been worried about his glans. This horrible, horrible, horrible doctor forcibly retracted his foreskin at age 2 1/2 and for well over a year my boy didn't want anyone to touch his penis, for fear of being hurt again. I couldn't find the blog entry - maybe there wasn't one - regarding this, one of the most upsetting experiences I've yet had as a parent (worse than when Sophie whacked her toe with an axe; I felt, inexplicably, like I should have protected Nels from this unforseen mini-tragedy).

"The foreskin therefore can be likened to a rosebud which remains closed and muzzled. Like a rosebud, it will only blossom when the time is right. No one opens a rosebud to make it blossom." - H. L. Tan, MD (from nocirc.org)

Waiting for me to be ready for Family Movie Night, Ralph finds "Wig In A Box" from Hedwig on YouTube for Nels - my beautiful, cross-dressing loving and lovable boy.

Labels: milestones, music, Nels

I can't believe it's been - four years!

Nels David Hogaboom
a birth story

Born at home to mom Kelly, dad Ralph, and sister Sophia
1:20 AM Wednesday April 7, 2004
8 pounds 7 ounces
21 inches long

April 6th, 9 AM - is it or isn't it?

A couple hours after I wake up on Tuesday I'm having mild contractions that are only a tiny bit more intense than the Braxton Hicks contractions I'd had throughout the last half of my pregnancy. These contractions are only slightly painful and certainly not too intense. Nevertheless, they are somewhat distracting and never truly subside, coming anywhere from 10 to 20 minutes apart. Ralph senses things are going to go into motion and comes home at noon, starting his two weeks off of work. He calls my mom at about 3 PM and tells her to head up to see us (she leaves about 5 PM). At this point I am hopeful of labor but also feeling somewhat silly at the thought I might be treating everyone to a false alarm. My mom arrives at about 9 PM time and she and Ralph start writing down my contractions, calling midwives, and cleaning the house up a bit.

April 6th, 10 PM - the real thing

My mom and I are watching a movie together and my contractions are still coming about 10 minutes apart. I still claim I am unsure if labor is going someplace. But everyone is noticing I pause the movie during each contraction so I can concentrate on getting though it. I'm undecided if I should walk around to "get things moving" or lie down and rest in between contractions. I'm trying not to be too fearful of another long labor like I had with my first child. Suddenly at about 10:30 PM I hop up from the bed and turn off the movie, since contractions have sped up to about 4 minutes apart. Naturally my mom and Ralph are very excited and go about making phone calls and preparations while I pace the floor and cope with each contraction. It is going quite well but I keep telling myself these are the "easy" contractions and I try not to worry about what's to come.

Around 10:30 my midwives and my doula start arriving and I am focusing inward in the classic "Laborland" manner. I notice peripherally how efficient and friendly everyone is, setting up the bed, laying out blankets and birth supplies and getting snacks. Everyone is wonderful to me and provides me with water and encouragement between contractions, respectful silence and privacy during. I feel very protected and honored and so it is easy not to be fearful. My doula Elizabeth arrives and strokes my back and speaks softly to me. She puts me nearly to sleep in between contractions. I am feeling so grateful for the love and encouragement I am getting. I know I am coping very well and in fact since I am doing so well I don't think I am very far along.

April 7th, Midnight - silliest labor quote

Things are intense but I don't want a check to see how far I've dilated. I am somewhat afraid to discover all the work I am doing hasn't gotten me anywhere. Laura (one of the midwives) suggests I get into the tub. I'd always thought of the tub as what you use as a last resort toward the end of labor so I tell her I can wait. After a few more contractions I decide to get in, hoping for some pain relief. I spend about 40 minutes in the tub with contractions edging up their intensity. Everyone is around me encouraging me and vocalizing though my contractions. Elizabeth holds my hands and breathes with me through the contractions, then puts a cold cloth on my head and neck in between. Everyone helps keep me calm and focused, as does the knowledge I have to take each contraction one at a time. Close to 1 AM I feel the urge to have Ralph hold and kiss me while I rest, and help talk me through contractions (he's repeating something I read from Birthing From Within: "Labor is hard work, it hurts, and you can do it"). I don't realize at the time but I am going through transition. After a few contractions I start to feel a little of that, well -- grunting urge. I know it is perfectly okay to grunt and push a little to help with the pain and I instinctively do so. The midwives clue into what I am doing and are back in the room. Laura says, "Gee Kelly, it sounds like you're pushing" and I reply (idiotically) "I'm not really pushing, it just feels good to bear down a little bit". These contractions are pretty rough but everyone is helping me so much it is still very manageable.

April 7th, 1:10 AM - OUCH, OUCH, OUCH!

Kathy convinces me to let her check me and informs me not only am I completely dilated, but that the baby's head has descended quite a bit. I am completely amazed at this (despite knowing I am feeling the urge to push) and even accuse everyone of just saying that to make me feel better! (I feel a little silly about this later). During each contraction I am feeling the pain in my hips, all the way to the bone, which my midwives tell me is a sign the baby is moving. Kathy tells me later I comment that it is like a crowbar prying my pelvis apart. Despite the pain I am coping well and in between the contractions I am still calm. I comment that I am not feeling any pressure in my bottom yet and I think to myself this means I have a ways to go. Oops, I speak too soon -- with the next contraction I feel the baby AT THE DOOR, so to speak. This takes me by surprise and my labor sounds change from low and powerful and very alarmed and - well - a little screechy. Everyone is talking to me and trying to help me calm down and focus. I am amazed at the pain and pressure and overcome with an almost frantic need to push. I am pushing, pushing, pushing, before I can tune into my midwives telling me to ease off. I do the best I can and manage to ease off a bit and direct my energies more constructively. Despite the pain I am overjoyed to know I am so close and my baby will be here any minute. "I know I will feel so good when I see my baby", I tell myself and this helps me. Kathy tells me to reach down and feel the head and after an initial hesitation I do, surprised again at how soft and smooth it is. I can feel each part of his head I deliver. It hurts! But I know I am close. The head is out and then I am surprised by the fullness and difficulty of the shoulders, which I do not remember from my first birth.

April 7th, 1:20 AM - Nels is born

With one final push I feel my baby being delivered and I am surprised it is already over. I have been kneeling in the tub and so immediately turn around and Ralph tells me later I am saying, "Give me my baby! I want to hold my baby!" to the midwives who are doing their thing. I have a vision of his long, smooth body floating in the water, the room lit by candlelight in a soft glow. Within seconds he is in my arms and I am crying and Ralph is crying and the whole room is full of a collective soft and surprised murmur. I am holding him to my chest and saying, "I can't believe it, I can't believe it" over and over, feeling so filled with surprise and happiness. He is perfect and so soft and I feel wonderful. I realize I have done it, I have given birth to a healthy baby boy in my own home, with my own power.

April 7th, early morning - getting to know you

I stay in the water crying and holding my baby for several minutes before anyone thinks to discover the baby's sex. I hold my child away from my chest and in between squirming legs and the umbilical cord I see we have a boy! Of course, this is perfect. Everything feels perfect! After a few more minutes I am ready to get out of the water and get cleaned up, but I know we have to wait for the placenta. I feel like this takes forever but it probably is only a fifteen minute wait. Another surprising feeling of fullness and then the placenta is delivered. Kathy has to pull the cord a bit and gently massage my tummy to get the whole thing in one piece. My mom is on the phone with my dad and has to pass the phone around so she can cut the cord. I am ready to get out and dry off and nurse my second child.

I am helped out of the tub and into some dry clothes. I am so happy to have so much loving help. I prop myself up on the bed and hold my son to my breast. He latches almost immediately like a pro. I keep asking my husband, "Is this really happening?" because it has gone like a dream and I am so happy. After some time of nursing the midwife eventually takes my son to the foot of the bed to weigh him and check his limbs and reflexes. Elizabeth brings me food -- cheese, bread, apples and oranges. My pulse is checked and found to be high (100) so I am encouraged to drink a huge glass of water (this happened with Sophie too). My afterpains are intense, more so than with Sophie, but I know this to be normal. I breathe through them. Sophie wakes up and is brought into the room, looking cranky and confused. I kiss her and introduce her to her brother (she is unimpressed) and Ralph takes her back to the bedroom to settle her back to sleep. Kathy checks my bottom out and finds only two tiny tears, no need for sutures. The energy of the house is settling, people are packing things, Elizabeth says goodbye. Laura leaves too and I take a shower with Kathy's help. She stays long enough to give postpartum instructions and asks me to page her when I can pee. I am a little anxious about this myself, for vague fear of a catheter. Kathy leaves about 3:20 and as her car is pulling out I am able to pee, feeling now finally that everything is alright.

My husband is looking dead tired. I am wired and unable to sleep. We send my mom off to bed. I hold my son who is still awake! He is drowsy though and wants to snuggle. At about 4:30 AM I finally fall asleep on the bed, Ralph on the couch, holding his son. We are awakened just before 7 AM to the joyful sounds of our firstborn running through the house talking excitedly to Grandma. Grandma looks like she really needs a cup of coffee.

Labels: babies, birthday, milestones, Nels

Four years ago today despite the onset of faint contractions I'd taken a lovely, deep nap in the sunlight of my living room, waking as peacefully as I ever had. Deep in my bones this brief sleep felt like a ritual, a final act as mother to one child - before embarking on the New Adventure. I've heard it said any time you add a child to the family it's as momentous as the first child's addition. I knew this to be true that afternoon and time has not proven me wrong.

The family we dined with the afternoon I went into labor with Nels just left this morning - my friend Abbi and her two daughters who decided impulsively to take a trip and ended up staying three days and two nights (yay!). We spent a very active and rather foodie weekend cooking, playing, visiting the sights (including the farmer's market, our fruit and veggie stand, the carniceria, our Salvadorian restaurant, and a local creamery), swimming, recovering (by napping - which saved my body and mind), cooking some more (raw milk cheese! strawberry rhubarb pie! roasted jalapenos!), and sharing gardening hopes, seeds, and starts (the Hogaclan being by far the primary beneficiary on the starts).



About thirty minutes after our guests leave we find ourselves at my parents', serving up the pie I'd made the night before. My daughter suddenly exclaims in proud surprise, "I lost my tooth!" and reveals to us a bloody gap. A small flurry of excitement; my mother and grandfather in tears as they say to one another, "I wish Jean [my grandmother] were here." Sophie's sweet voice develops a slight lisp; now in talking her full upper lip catches a bit on the void her upper tooth left behind. She tells me later with cool confidence, "It fell into my sleeve."

This evening I knead the dough for treat I'm bringing Nels' class tomorrow (his birthday as well as his last day before moving up to the older class which he repeatedly points out, "Is full of new girls!") while he sits at the table, licking the mixer paddles. I am tired but breadmaking is one of my favorite things to do. "This dough is so nice..." I tell my husband, pleased at the soft, springy, smoothness that warm milk, egg, and butter affords (this particular confection contains chocolate and brown sugar, too!) and Nels adds, "Uh-huh!" enthusiastically, busy wiping his fingers and nodding. I lean in and kiss him for being who he is, my golden child who shares my love of cooking (ingredients he's chosen for us over the last week: cauliflower, cantelope, and a special red sea salt) and is forever coming up with the most imaginative games (tonight he was a pie bird and required I pantomime the preparation of a pie using his body).

The rest of the family enjoys the fireside and the warmth, contentment at the end of our Spring Break.

Labels: babies, birthday, food, friends, milestones, Nels, Sophie

In just a few hours I will have completed thirty-one revolutions around the sun. Good job, me! And thanks, mom and dad! And everyone else involved, really.

Last year on my thirtieth birthday it was a jumble. I was days away from moving our family for the first time (and in denial); I then had a surprise party that included employees, friends, FOO - who I typically would have to beg or cajole to visit, including during times I faced surgery and baby-birthin' - and this great party only minutes after I'd discovered our dear lovely family cat Fancy had been killed. It was an amazing, wonderful, and emotional ride; this year I'm content with a lot quieter. I love the idea of being 31. I like the number itself.

The weekend entailed a visit from college friend Jodi, husband Doug, and their two children Cyan and India. After they left I darted back to my sewing room to finish baby booties for Nels' teacher's imminent birth and enjoyed my mother's company for a dinner of cabbage rolls and baked potatoes courtesy of Ralph's cooking. So all-in-all at 9 PM I'm tired but grateful and content and looking forward to a lie-in.

Labels: birthday, FOO, friends, milestones, PT, sewing

Last night I spent my gym time (twice a week) in a Family Spinning class, which from what I can tell is about the same as a regular Spinning class but doesn't include shrill yelling from the instructor - more like, supportive conversation - and does include arguably less obnoxious music (Family night entailed some Christian contemporary pop rather than, blarf, Fergie). I absolutely love to listen to music while bicycling and at least in Spinning it's entirely safe to do so - if a bit of a sad selection.

I also had a great time, in large part because my two friends Shannon and Jennifer were there. So my normal goofy, snarky humor need not be squelched since I had trusted friends who've know me since the eighties and already know I'm a dork. I also found that my time biking with two children and groceries in a bike trailer was still very much with me. I felt sore after Spinning but it didn't kill me. In fact even at the highest dial point on the bike it wasn't nearly as hard as pulling Sophie and Nels up Hoquiam's big bridge.

And on that note, today thanks to a small donation and with post-payday permission from Ralph, I accomplished one of my New Year's resolutions: I paid off my layaway bike. It awaits me in the garage, about to embark on its maiden voyage. In ideal conditions: cold, wet, and dark. I don't care. My whole life I have only owned cheap / Walmart bikes. I have been towing my trailer on a borrowed big cruiser of my mom's with fatass tractor seat. Even if the bike was OK enough to do it, it wasn't mine. This is mine. It's new. It's going to be getting us around. Nels is only slightly smaller than the installed bike seat so it won't last long, but for a while at least I'll have him behind me and no trailer when it's just he and I.

Sophie just left for her first sleepover next door for a birthday party. She took her little green vinyl suitcase. She was rarin' to go, but kissed us many times to tell us she'd miss us. I am surpressing the urge to stalk the house like the over-involved mother I am. They have a big ol' dog anyway so it wouldn't be wise.

Labels: bike, milestones, Nels, newness

I just sent my oldest to her first day of all-day school.* She was wearing last Thanksgiving's homesewn dress, scuffed brown oxfords, and brown tights. She had two little buns on the side of her head that her father gave her, her nails were trimmed, her teeth brushed, her ears cleaned. She carried a ladybug backpack my sister Jules bought her; on the backpack was a green button designating her as a "Rider" (as in, is picked up at the end of the school day) which apparently must accompany her daily or I will never find out where she got whisked away to (the teacher made no fewer than four impassioned speeches on the subject yesterday at orientation). She was excited to go and didn't want to floss her teeth or she'd be late. At this I half-joked, "You're in a hurry to get away from me!" and she replied, "No mom, I don't want to get away from you..." in this tone that said, Mom, this isn't about you.

I had a bet with a friend whether I'd cry on Sophie's first day of school; I did not. Perhaps I'm just too tired; I was up until well past four AM last night (earnestly I tell you dear reader - I have no idea why. I did not feel particularly anxious or have caffeine too late) and while I still got up and made lunch and sent my girl off with her father I am a bit lagging. But sentimentality at milestones is something that comes and goes with me; it's not a constant. It occurs to me the reason I held her as much as I could and nursed her for three years and cuddled her and smelled her close as often as I could and took baths with her and greedily listened to her voice and kissed her one million times was that yes, I could take as much time with her as seemed reasonable, but also that she'd get her fill of love and be able to walk out the door to other things. I am not sad she can leave without a backward glance. I am glad - and I know she'll come back to me.

A full day with my son, the first of many this school year, awaits his emergence from bed. I start fresh coffee and shower, hoping to lie down for a few moments before beginning the workday.

For those who haven't seen it, Ralph and I posted a wee cooking video on I'm Cooked.com.

* Pictures pending: Ralph left the card reader at work.

Labels: family life, gratitude, milestones, Sophie

Our kitty (se llama Harris).

Today my friend Jen and I carpooled our kids and went for lunch in the park. We tried to converse while being besieged by each of the four children, alternatively needing attention, lunch, water, help with clothes, advocacy with other children: the subjects Jen and I attempted ranged from marriage, her political campaign (mayor of HQX!), parenting, our own upbringing, parents' illnesses, employment, counseling. Later in her backyard the children strip down and play together mostly nicely and Nels, with a runny nose and feeling down today, wants me to hold him. I put my arms around him and Pearl Jam's "Yellow Ledbetter" comes on over the stereo. The song is such a nostalgic one for me. My friend I'm with today we've known one another since we were eight years old and now our own children approach that age. I think we have an understanding that has only strengthened now that a few years of family are behind us and our second childhood looms.

Today finds me with a sick child, a tooth-dangerously-loose child, a diarrhetic kitten, and a busted checking account. A few minutes before I take my kids home from our playdate and I'm wiping the nose of one and the blood off another (Sophie scraped her foot playing in the pool) and it feels like I'm a magnet and things just snap to me. Children and pets and husband hang off me when they can. It isn't at all uncomfortable for the most part, it still surprises me though. Motherhood, should you choose to take it on in any involved way, is endless, relentless, it never stops. It's beautiful, though, and my favorite thing to do so far (well, the favorite thing I can share publicly). Even our little kitty gravitates towards Mama; last night as I drowsed in the middle of the night I realized that in between in the blanket hammock formed between my legs in the figure 4 position - the little kitty slept and purred, a tiny, insignificant engine. In the morning then: homemade bread toasted, eggs, ripe pear for the children; milk for our grown Blackie kitty (pissed off about little Harris); fresh water and food for the animals. Clean up the breakfast dishes - "Kids, go wash your hands and brush your teeth!" and set clothes out and pack a lunch and then after the lunch and driving and playing and pulling off clothes and nursing sad children home to clean up kids and wash their clothes because they got muddy.

(update 3:56 PM: Sophie just lost her second tooth; she reaches symmetry again for a brief period).

Labels: family life, friends, Harris, HQX, kitty, milestones

I can't believe it's been a year.

Nels David Hogaboom
a birth story

Born at home to mom Kelly, dad Ralph, and sister Sophia
1:20 AM Wednesday April 7, 2004
8 pounds 7 ounces
21 inches long

April 6th, 9 AM - is it or isn't it?

A couple hours after I wake up on Tuesday I'm having mild contractions that are only a tiny bit more intense than the Braxton Hicks contractions I'd had throughout the last half of my pregnancy. These contractions are only slightly painful and certainly not too intense. Nevertheless, they are somewhat distracting and never truly subside, coming anywhere from 10 to 20 minutes apart. Ralph senses things are going to go into motion and comes home at noon, starting his two weeks off of work. He calls my mom at about 3 PM and tells her to head up to see us (she leaves about 5 PM). At this point I am hopeful of labor but also feeling somewhat silly at the thought I might be treating everyone to a false alarm. My mom arrives at about 9 PM time and she and Ralph start writing down my contractions, calling midwives, and cleaning the house up a bit.

April 6th, 10 PM - the real thing

My mom and I are watching a movie together and my contractions are still coming about 10 minutes apart. I still claim I am unsure if labor is going someplace. But everyone is noticing I pause the movie during each contraction so I can concentrate on getting though it. I'm undecided if I should walk around to "get things moving" or lie down and rest in between contractions. I'm trying not to be too fearful of another long labor like I had with my first child. Suddenly at about 10:30 PM I hop up from the bed and turn off the movie, since contractions have sped up to about 4 minutes apart. Naturally my mom and Ralph are very excited and go about making phone calls and preparations while I pace the floor and cope with each contraction. It is going quite well but I keep telling myself these are the "easy" contractions and I try not to worry about what's to come.

Around 10:30 my midwives and my doula start arriving and I am focusing inward in the classic "Laborland" manner. I notice peripherally how efficient and friendly everyone is, setting up the bed, laying out blankets and birth supplies and getting snacks. Everyone is wonderful to me and provides me with water and encouragement between contractions, respectful silence and privacy during. I feel very protected and honored and so it is easy not to be fearful. My doula Elizabeth arrives and strokes my back and speaks softly to me. She puts me nearly to sleep in between contractions. I am feeling so grateful for the love and encouragement I am getting. I know I am coping very well and in fact since I am doing so well I don't think I am very far along.

April 7th, Midnight - silliest labor quote

Things are intense but I don't want a check to see how far I've dilated. I am somewhat afraid to discover all the work I am doing hasn't gotten me anywhere. Laura (one of the midwives) suggests I get into the tub. I'd always thought of the tub as what you use as a last resort toward the end of labor so I tell her I can wait. After a few more contractions I decide to get in, hoping for some pain relief. I spend about 40 minutes in the tub with contractions edging up their intensity. Everyone is around me encouraging me and vocalizing though my contractions. Elizabeth holds my hands and breathes with me through the contractions, then puts a cold cloth on my head and neck in between. Everyone helps keep me calm and focused, as does the knowledge I have to take each contraction one at a time. Close to 1 AM I feel the urge to have Ralph hold and kiss me while I rest, and help talk me through contractions (he's repeating something I read from Birthing From Within: "Labor is hard work, it hurts, and you can do it"). I don't realize at the time but I am going through transition. After a few contractions I start to feel a little of that, well -- grunting urge. I know it is perfectly okay to grunt and push a little to help with the pain and I instinctively do so. The midwives clue into what I am doing and are back in the room. Laura says, "Gee Kelly, it sounds like you're pushing" and I reply (idiotically) "I'm not really pushing, it just feels good to bear down a little bit". These contractions are pretty rough but everyone is helping me so much it is still very manageable.

April 7th, 1:10 AM - OUCH, OUCH, OUCH!

Kathy convinces me to let her check me and informs me not only am I completely dilated, but that the baby's head has descended quite a bit. I am completely amazed at this (despite knowing I am feeling the urge to push) and even accuse everyone of just saying that to make me feel better! (I feel a little silly about this later). During each contraction I am feeling the pain in my hips, all the way to the bone, which my midwives tell me is a sign the baby is moving. Kathy tells me later I comment that it is like a crowbar prying my pelvis apart. Despite the pain I am coping well and in between the contractions I am still calm. I comment that I am not feeling any pressure in my bottom yet and I think to myself this means I have a ways to go. Oops, I speak too soon -- with the next contraction I feel the baby AT THE DOOR, so to speak. This takes me by surprise and my labor sounds change from low and powerful and very alarmed and - well - a little screechy. Everyone is talking to me and trying to help me calm down and focus. I am amazed at the pain and pressure and overcome with an almost frantic need to push. I am pushing, pushing, pushing, before I can tune into my midwives telling me to ease off. I do the best I can and manage to ease off a bit and direct my energies more constructively. Despite the pain I am overjoyed to know I am so close and my baby will be here any minute. "I know I will feel so good when I see my baby", I tell myself and this helps me. Kathy tells me to reach down and feel the head and after an initial hesitation I do, surprised again at how soft and smooth it is. I can feel each part of his head I deliver. It hurts! But I know I am close. The head is out and then I am surprised by the fullness and difficulty of the shoulders, which I do not remember from my first birth.

April 7th, 1:20 AM - Nels is born

With one final push I feel my baby being delivered and I am surprised it is already over. I have been kneeling in the tub and so immediately turn around and Ralph tells me later I am saying, "Give me my baby! I want to hold my baby!" to the midwives who are doing their thing. I have a vision of his long, smooth body floating in the water, the room lit by candlelight in a soft glow. Within seconds he is in my arms and I am crying and Ralph is crying and the whole room is full of a collective soft and surprised murmur. I am holding him to my chest and saying, "I can't believe it, I can't believe it" over and over, feeling so filled with surprise and happiness. He is perfect and so soft and I feel wonderful. I realize I have done it, I have given birth to a healthy baby boy in my own home, with my own power.

April 7th, early morning - getting to know you

I stay in the water crying and holding my baby for several minutes before anyone thinks to discover the baby's sex. I hold my child away from my chest and in between squirming legs and the umbilical cord I see we have a boy! Of course, this is perfect. Everything feels perfect! After a few more minutes I am ready to get out of the water and get cleaned up, but I know we have to wait for the placenta. I feel like this takes forever but it probably is only a fifteen minute wait. Another surprising feeling of fullness and then the placenta is delivered. Kathy has to pull the cord a bit and gently massage my tummy to get the whole thing in one piece. My mom is on the phone with my dad and has to pass the phone around so she can cut the cord. I am ready to get out and dry off and nurse my second child.

I am helped out of the tub and into some dry clothes. I am so happy to have so much loving help. I prop myself up on the bed and hold my son to my breast. He latches almost immediately like a pro. I keep asking my husband, "Is this really happening?" because it has gone like a dream and I am so happy. After some time of nursing the midwife eventually takes my son to the foot of the bed to weigh him and check his limbs and reflexes. Elizabeth brings me food -- cheese, bread, apples and oranges. My pulse is checked and found to be high (100) so I am encouraged to drink a huge glass of water (this happened with Sophie too). My afterpains are intense, more so than with Sophie, but I know this to be normal. I breathe through them. Sophie wakes up and is brought into the room, looking cranky and confused. I kiss her and introduce her to her brother (she is unimpressed) and Ralph takes her back to the bedroom to settle her back to sleep. Kathy checks my bottom out and finds only two tiny tears, no need for sutures. The energy of the house is settling, people are packing things, Elizabeth says goodbye. Laura leaves too and I take a shower with Kathy's help. She stays long enough to give postpartum instructions and asks me to page her when I can pee. I am a little anxious about this myself, for vague fear of a catheter. Kathy leaves about 3:20 and as her car is pulling out I am able to pee, feeling now finally that everything is alright.

My husband is looking dead tired. I am wired and unable to sleep. We send my mom off to bed. I hold my son who is still awake! He is drowsy though and wants to snuggle. At about 4:30 AM I finally fall asleep on the bed, Ralph on the couch, holding his son. We are awakened just before 7 AM to the joyful sounds of our firstborn running through the house talking excitedly to Grandma. Grandma looks like she really needs a cup of coffee.

Labels: babies, birthday, milestones, Nels