Fifteen years ago Garrison was born. He actually arrived right around this time -- right around midnight. But we decided to have his birthday be May 8 instead of May 9, because it's a much nicer day. Eights in general are preferable to nines, wouldn't you agree? Plus I was born in '58, so I liked the number vibe of 5-8. We even said that his arrival time would be 11:58.
We had the freedom to decide these things, you see, because he was born at home with only Jim as his midwife. Or midhusband, as it were.
He arrived one week past his due date. The fourth child. The third son.
He arrived in the bathroom after oh...maybe 15 minutes of labor. Please don't hate me. It's a true fact.
We had gone for a walk that evening and I'd had some light contractions, but then I'd been having them for weeks and didn't pay any attention to them at all. I had gotten out of bed to spray warm water on my belly with our hand held shower sprayer, because it felt kind of crampy. Then I thought maybe I just needed to use the potty. Then I realized, with spectacular clarity, that no, I needed to PUSH! I called for Jim, who called for Corie and told her to call the midwife. While she was on the phone to the midwife's answering service he told her never mind, call 911. By the time the EMTs arrived, Garrison was already here. He weighed 9 lb. 12 oz, when the official midwife came around 3:00 a.m. with her handy portable baby scale.
May 9th was Mother's Day, and we had made reservations at the neighborhood cafe for Brunch. Believe it or not, I wasn't quite up to going that morning, but the rest of my family went ahead, and brought me home a tray of the most delicious food I've ever eaten. I can still taste those melons. My lilac bush was in full bloom (as it is now) and Corie had picked a bouquet which she brought to me with my meal.
His little face was rather purple for the first few days. It was a result, I believe, of his amazingly speedy arrival.
And now this baby is 15. He's 6'3" and wears a size 12 shoe. He's taking driver's ed. He can sing like Johnny Cash on "I Walk the Line" and "Ring of Fire." He's got blond hair and blue eyes and has really nasty cuticles. His heart is huge and tender. He can almost tolerate his little sister, but just barely. He plays football and runs the 400 and designs cars and houses. He is my go-to guy for carrying in groceries, reaching high shelves, and often fixing things. He is completely nuts about his nieces and his nephew. He wants to spend his birthday money fixing up his mountain bike. (My brother says he wants to make a Ferrari out of a Yugo. I think if anyone can, it'd be my boy.)
For his birthday dinner he chose ribs and chocolate cake. I delegated the ribs to Jim, not being a rib fan myself. And I turned to Pioneer Woman for the chocolate cake.
Susannah came in once it was complete (except for the pecans in the frosting. We're chocolate purists around here.) and asked, "What kind of cake is that?" I told her, "chocolate sheet cake. From Pioneer Woman." I continued my bustling with the beans and mashed potatoes and overheard her telling Danny, "Mom made a sheep cake. It's a pioneer thing."
Ah yes. That's how they celebrated birthdays back in the covered wagon days.
Sheep cake. Not to be confused with the more widely known shepherd's pie.
(p.s. It was thoroughly delicious, by the way. Do not delay. Make some today.)
Showing posts with label childbirth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label childbirth. Show all posts
Friday, May 9, 2008
Monday, February 4, 2008
the muse has left the building
I got nothing. Seriously. And yet the urge to blog compels me keyboard-ward.
Don't you think February is mostly just sorta dull? I mean once you get past the pulse-quickening, goose bump-inducing, breath-holding excitement that is Groundhog Day.
Of course the Big Deal around here is HB's imminent arrival. I was telling my daugher-in-law that back when I was expecting my babies I always had that "waiting for company" feeling in the last week or so of my pregnancies. The house is cleaned, the refrigerator is stocked, the sheets have been changed......and the waiting begins. And you never know for sure when the company is going to come, but you know you're excited. And you don't feel like you can really plan anything else, in case the company arrives. So you sit tight, expectantly. Literally expectantly, in her case.
You try to do normal things but there's a sense of "it could be any time" about everything. Should I go to the grocery store? Should I plan to go to Bible study? The cell phone is charged and at hand. Every call that comes in, you wonder, could this be it?
Aunties from Indiana and California are making plans to come to Michigan. Which means that Lily and Tessa will be here, too! That is sure to bring some sunshine to this dreary gray weather!
I need to find a Friday Night Lights buddy. Someone who wants to chew over the plot developments with me. Jim and I have been watching it together, but once the show is over, he's done with it. He closes up that box and puts it back on the shelf. Meanwhile I carry the drama with me until the next week, wringing my hands over poor Matt, and wondering how Tyra and Landry are going to make it work, and not feeling entirely happy about Gracie being in day care, and wondering if someone should tell Tammy that maybe this wasn't the best time to take on a coaching job.....
And no, I haven't done anything yet on Danny's senior scrapbook. Thanks so much for pointing that out.
Don't you think February is mostly just sorta dull? I mean once you get past the pulse-quickening, goose bump-inducing, breath-holding excitement that is Groundhog Day.
Of course the Big Deal around here is HB's imminent arrival. I was telling my daugher-in-law that back when I was expecting my babies I always had that "waiting for company" feeling in the last week or so of my pregnancies. The house is cleaned, the refrigerator is stocked, the sheets have been changed......and the waiting begins. And you never know for sure when the company is going to come, but you know you're excited. And you don't feel like you can really plan anything else, in case the company arrives. So you sit tight, expectantly. Literally expectantly, in her case.
You try to do normal things but there's a sense of "it could be any time" about everything. Should I go to the grocery store? Should I plan to go to Bible study? The cell phone is charged and at hand. Every call that comes in, you wonder, could this be it?
Aunties from Indiana and California are making plans to come to Michigan. Which means that Lily and Tessa will be here, too! That is sure to bring some sunshine to this dreary gray weather!
I need to find a Friday Night Lights buddy. Someone who wants to chew over the plot developments with me. Jim and I have been watching it together, but once the show is over, he's done with it. He closes up that box and puts it back on the shelf. Meanwhile I carry the drama with me until the next week, wringing my hands over poor Matt, and wondering how Tyra and Landry are going to make it work, and not feeling entirely happy about Gracie being in day care, and wondering if someone should tell Tammy that maybe this wasn't the best time to take on a coaching job.....
And no, I haven't done anything yet on Danny's senior scrapbook. Thanks so much for pointing that out.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
a different kind of pioneer woman
I've had childbirth on my mind lately. OK, I have childbirth on my mind a lot. But especially recently, because of our newest grandbaby's upcoming arrival, and because of Corie's talk of considering pursuing becoming (how many -ing words can I string together?) a childbirth instructor. I've had birth on the brain.
When I was expecting Corie (27 years ago, almost - yikes) we were living in Germany, obviously far from my mom and home. I wrote her a letter full of my concerns and questions about giving birth.
Growing up, I had only ever heard my mom say positive things about her birth experiences. I was 10 when my brother was born (my first sibling), and then 12 with my sister (I was 43 when my youngest sister was born, but that's a whole different story for another time). So I remember well the calmness and joy my mom expressed when she talked about labor and delivery. She had always been very open and honest with me. I knew I could ask her anything. That in itself, I realized later, was a gift not every young girl is given.
I saved the letter my mom wrote in response, and just got it out of Corie's baby book the other day. Re-reading it now, I am amazed that she demonstrated such a radical belief that birth was a natural, un-fearful event. She wrote of how important it was to relax, and trust that your body was working the way God designed it to work. She wrote of how difficult it was for her, when I was born especially (in 1958), to find a doctor who didn't pooh-pooh her desire to give birth without drugs. She talked about wanting the baby to have a peaceful entry into the world, and how she wanted to be awake and participating. She wrote that the hard contractions didn't bother her because she knew the worst was nearly over. "...It really is enjoyable and exciting because each contraction means the baby is nearer to being born."
She never took a childbirth class. She'd never even heard of Dr. Bradley. Lamaze wasn't an option. But she said that HER mom had given birth (at home) naturally, and that it never crossed her mind that she wouldn't be able to. She just had the courage to pursue what she believed in her heart was right.
Then she wrote this about the way she felt after each birth:
"...Like THIS was what life is all about. I wept with happiness as each of you were born and laid on my tummy...such an outpouring of a feeling of mother love and utmost contentment and happiness! As you each curled your little hand around my finger the first time, the whole effort was worth it. I wanted nothing else at that moment but to look and look and touch and love you until you grew up. It never leaves -- that feeling of mother love. It lasts forever -- through all the spats and hard times and misunderstandings and changes and distances -- it's always there. ..... I would go through MUCH MORE pain than I had, just to experience it again."
I realized how blessed I am. When I had my babies I didn't have to overcome fear and negative perceptions of the horror of birth. When I was teaching childbirth classes, I wasn't just teaching "The Bradley Method," I was passing on my mom's confidence and faith in the process.
My mom has been a role model to me in so many ways. Her love of reading, her joy in her children, her selfless giving to her family. I'm grateful that she blazed the trail that I've been allowed to follow.
I love you, Mommy.
When I was expecting Corie (27 years ago, almost - yikes) we were living in Germany, obviously far from my mom and home. I wrote her a letter full of my concerns and questions about giving birth.
Growing up, I had only ever heard my mom say positive things about her birth experiences. I was 10 when my brother was born (my first sibling), and then 12 with my sister (I was 43 when my youngest sister was born, but that's a whole different story for another time). So I remember well the calmness and joy my mom expressed when she talked about labor and delivery. She had always been very open and honest with me. I knew I could ask her anything. That in itself, I realized later, was a gift not every young girl is given.
I saved the letter my mom wrote in response, and just got it out of Corie's baby book the other day. Re-reading it now, I am amazed that she demonstrated such a radical belief that birth was a natural, un-fearful event. She wrote of how important it was to relax, and trust that your body was working the way God designed it to work. She wrote of how difficult it was for her, when I was born especially (in 1958), to find a doctor who didn't pooh-pooh her desire to give birth without drugs. She talked about wanting the baby to have a peaceful entry into the world, and how she wanted to be awake and participating. She wrote that the hard contractions didn't bother her because she knew the worst was nearly over. "...It really is enjoyable and exciting because each contraction means the baby is nearer to being born."
She never took a childbirth class. She'd never even heard of Dr. Bradley. Lamaze wasn't an option. But she said that HER mom had given birth (at home) naturally, and that it never crossed her mind that she wouldn't be able to. She just had the courage to pursue what she believed in her heart was right.
Then she wrote this about the way she felt after each birth:
"...Like THIS was what life is all about. I wept with happiness as each of you were born and laid on my tummy...such an outpouring of a feeling of mother love and utmost contentment and happiness! As you each curled your little hand around my finger the first time, the whole effort was worth it. I wanted nothing else at that moment but to look and look and touch and love you until you grew up. It never leaves -- that feeling of mother love. It lasts forever -- through all the spats and hard times and misunderstandings and changes and distances -- it's always there. ..... I would go through MUCH MORE pain than I had, just to experience it again."
I realized how blessed I am. When I had my babies I didn't have to overcome fear and negative perceptions of the horror of birth. When I was teaching childbirth classes, I wasn't just teaching "The Bradley Method," I was passing on my mom's confidence and faith in the process.
My mom has been a role model to me in so many ways. Her love of reading, her joy in her children, her selfless giving to her family. I'm grateful that she blazed the trail that I've been allowed to follow.
I love you, Mommy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
