The feeling of his head in my hand as I waited for the
last contraction to help push him out.
Angel-soft hair. Little wiggles –
he is moving! – as he works to get his shoulder free and join the world. A strong wave of pressure, a breathless
second, a loud cry, my baby is born into my own hands.
Joy! The air comes
back into my lungs, back into the room.
Labor is over, life is beginning.
Catching my breath.
Lucy is coming up the stairs, walking towards us. Kevin at my side, kissing my head, welcoming
his son. Slippery little man in my arms,
crying his little head off!
Out of the pool, onto the couch on shaky legs, surrounded
by loving arms, beautiful women, ecstatic family. Is this umbilical cord a little short?
I feel triumphant, breathless, strong, a warrior, a
goddess! To say “I did it!” seems trite
and silly, but I did it! I made
this! I birthed my baby, in my own
house, on my own terms, letting my body do what it needed to do. Birth is involuntary; you just have to allow
it to happen. And I did.
Oh the perfection.
Sweet-smelling, gooey little baby snuggling against my chest. The warm, safe presence of my husband beside
me.
Hungry baby, latching on with no trouble, eat eat eat!
And then Lucy is with us.
What happened to my sweet baby girl?
Who took my little girl and turned her into this GIANT? She’s HUGE!
And what big TEETH she has! Lucy, “Want MAMA MILK! MINE!”
Meltdown in the works. Oh dear,
here we go. I am not sure I want to
nurse this enormous wolf-child who has somehow replaced my daughter. But the wolf-child insists and I am blissed
out on birth and baby, so have at it, kid.
Tandem nursing for the first time. I am already stark butt naked in front of a
roomful of people, why not sling a few boobs around for good measure?
The room clears out.
We are alone, me, Malcolm, Kevin.
Admiring our handiwork. My God he
is perfect. Are those pointed ears? Does he really have pointed ear?? My God he is perfect. Sweet smelling. Soft.
Squishy. Still covered in
mayonnaise and goop, but wonderful to seem smell, kiss, cuddle. Bliss.
Absolute bliss.
Mairi (midwife) makes eggs. Lots and lots of eggs with cheddar cheese in
them. I devour a heaping bowl. The more.
Then toast and pineapple coconut water then chocolate.
I take a delightfully hot shower. OH GOD I AM SO HAPPY NOT TO BE PREGNANT ANYMORE! Oh God, what a smooshy misshapen belly is left over from being pregnant. It looks like someone took a purple marker to a lump of sloppy bread dough. Racing stripes. Don’t look. There will be time for assessing the damage later. I am scrubbed and clean and cozy in my red bathrobe and snuggled back on the couch to watch Kevin watching his son. More bliss.
There is a minor amount of poking and prodding and
checking and measuring done on me and my girlie parts. It feels like there must have been an atomic
bomb that went off down there. I am glad
that I don’t have to look at it. No tear, just a split, just swelling, little
bleeding. Kat (student midwife) says
“Seriously, Jenny, I was wondering if you lost any blood at all! But it’s in the placenta.” Oh.
Okay. Good…?
Newborn exam. Malcolm does not like it. He’s a big boy! 8 pounds, 14 oz! Lucy watches.
Kat explains to Lucy what she is doing.
Lucy cares very little. “Want to
see Baby Muffin,” she says, not fully understanding that Baby Malcolm IS Baby
Muffin. I am now almost certain she
thought that my belly button was the baby I was growing in my belly.
Bed, blissful, beautiful, cozy, clean. My bed.
Ah. I cuddle up with Malcolm on
my chest, skin to skin, and Kevin at my side.
We can hardly sleep for being so exhausted. We can hardly sleep from being so in love.
But sleep overtakes us and afternoon slips into
evening. He sleeps on me all evening,
all night long. I can’t think of a
sweeter day.
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