State of things

Sorry. We've not disappeared. Things are a bit harried around here. We're relearning how to tie baby bundlers and wash diapers.



Thank goodness for grandparents. This one stayed three weeks and did not get bored, fiesty or sore. At least, not publicly. It's been one day since she left and we miss her severely. I soon need to end this entry to wash dishes and start laundry.





Claire has been a great big sister. So good that we still have to watch her closely when she's near Paige so her hugs and kisses don't in fact smother her to death. Any time Sarah or I say "Paige is wet," Claire races into the bedroom, scoots her seat up next to the diaper-changing table and gets in position to "help."





And look! We've actually done some gardening....

Guess who?

Are these 2 sisters or what? Which is Claire at one week old and which is Paige?

The birth

This is the story of a home birth. It is not a scary story, even though it takes place outside a hospital. Rather, it is a story of courage, friendship, nature's unpredictable timing and grace.

It started Thursday when Susie Corcoran, Sarah's midwife, performed a checkup. Sarah was 4 centimeters dilated. Susie even massaged the baby’s head. We decided that night to return to Macaroni Grill. That's where we ate when Sarah went into labor with Claire. I pulled up in front of the restaurant’s entrance to let Sarah out. She paused before opening the door: “I need to wait a moment. I’m having a contraction.”



Friday morning, before I got out of bed, the first thing Sarah said to me was, “I don’t want to get too ahead of myself but I’ve been having contractions that are noticeably stronger.”

I skipped work and took Claire for a walk to the park while Sarah rested. The sun warmed the air of what had been an unusually cold spring. The sweet smell of daphne wafted through delicate, pink blossoms clinging to cherry trees.

I offered to start setting up the birthing tub, but Sarah discouraged me. She said we’d have plenty of time.

4:30 came and we decided I could afford to go pick up our sick dog from the vet. I got Claire dressed, stepped out on the porch and set Claire’s jacket down to tie her shoes. Just then, I heard Sarah yell my name. “My water just broke!” I now had an excuse to call the vet and ask them to keep the dog overnight.


Sarah sat down next to Claire on the couch and explained to her that the baby would soon be coming out of momma's tummy. I then hustled Claire down to our babysitter while Sarah called her midwife. In between Sarah’s contractions, I carried the half-inflated tub from the spare bedroom into the kitchen. I papered off the back door window and began inflating the birthing tub.


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That didn't go well. Sarah’s contractions quickly increased in intensity. I had to stop every few minutes to tend to her. She leaned on me during each contraction and asked to be talked through them. They seemed to be coming quicker, too. At one point, while fumbling to secure the liner inside the tub, Sarah said, “Take your time.” I didn't know what she was thinking.



6:00 I still hadn’t started filling the tub with water. But Sarah was already moaning during contractions and having difficulty even walking in between them. They seemed to be coming on top of each other, like waves at high tide. I updated Susie at 6:30. She vowed to leave immediately.

6:35 I spotted our neighbor Bev across the street working in her garden and very nearly ran out on the porch to summon her. But I figured with Susie on her way, I could survive until she got there. The best thing I could do for Sarah was keep calm and work on that tub.

6:50 Sarah turned to me, cheeks flushed, hair askew, to say she was starting to feel like pushing. “You’d better call Susie,” she said, exasperated, between breaths. “Susie’s on her way,” I reminded her. She looked at me doubtfully. I got on the phone for Sarah’s benefit. “Tell her to breathe all the way through the contractions,” Susie said. I was standing in the same place minutes later – at the doorway to the kitchen – when Susie scurried in.

I scrambled around to lay plastic beneath the old covers on the beds. We escorted Sarah slowly into our spare bedroom. Susie suggested I continue filling the tub. I wondered privately if that would be futile. Susie quickly got her supplies out while Sarah labored leaning over the bed. I grabbed items she requested. Then, at some point, she calmly walked up to me with a wry smile on her face and said, “You’re relieved of your duties.”




Mary arrived next. Mary was Claire's first nanny. She agreed to drive from her new home 180 miles away to help with whatever we needed during the home birth. She'd left before 4 p.m., and on the way, a cop pulled her over for speeding. Mary, ever calm, rolled down her window and told the policeman, “Someone’s having a baby!” He let her go, but told her to slow down.

“Are the other midwives here yet?” Mary asked, concerned. I was worried, too, but for a different reason. The tub wasn’t ready and Sarah seemed in pain. Her moans were more like loud grunts and screams now, and she couldn’t catch her breath. I worried that I’d failed to provide her the home birth that she envisioned, and that she might regret not going to the hospital to get pain medication. The contractions were coming on so quick and so powerfully.

7:30 Nicole, the apprentice midwife, arrived. The third midwife, Dana Shibley, arrived at 7:45 p.m. We introduced ourselves in passing by the dining room table. I walked into the bedroom to find Susie and Nicole had somehow gotten Sarah on her hands and knees on the bed.
The midwives said something about the baby being “right there.” I turned to Mary and ordered her to pluck Claire from the babysitter's.

I bent down upon Susie’s gesturing. The baby’s black, wet hair was surfacing. I could have easily touched it. I walked to the front of the bed, bent down so Sarah could hear and told her that the baby was at the same position that Claire was when she was extracted by vacuum. “You’re really close,” I said. Sarah gave a barely perceptible nod and kept looking at the pile of pillows beneath her.



Mary and Claire arrived minutes later. Mary said she walked onto the porch and heard the noise inside and reminded Claire what she was about to witness.

“Are you sure you want to go inside?” Mary asked.

“I don’t want to,” Claire replied. Then, a moment later, Claire said, “I want to.”

Once inside the living room, they heard mom emit a loud, guttural grunt.

“Who was that?” Claire asked.

“That was your momma,” Mary said. “Do you still want to go in to see her?”

“I don’t want to,” she said. Then, a moment later, “I want to.”

She made it with 10 minutes to spare, saying little, watching closely, hanging on mostly to Mary. Mom, amazingly, was lucid enough between contractions to greet Claire and remind her that she was working hard to get the baby out. The midwives kept encouraging Sarah. At one point, Susie asked aloud, “Brent, do you want to catch the baby?” I stopped in my tracks and shrugged. I hadn’t even thought about it. I was about to say it didn’t matter when Sarah yelled, “Do it, Brent!”

Sarah pushed again and the baby’s head started to emerge, first the blue forehead, then the eyes scrunched shut, finally the nose and lips. Sarah stopped to rest. “There’s da baby,” Claire exclaimed.



Sarah pushed again. I cupped both hands beneath the head. “Which way is this baby going to turn?” Susie asked. The baby’s shoulders emerged, then the rest of the body slipped out with a slight twist. Sarah breathed a huge sigh of relief. The baby fell neatly into my hands, wet and a bit slippery but with enough sticky white vernix on its skin to help me keep my grip. Her skin was blue and bloody but reassuringly warm, and she came out in such a way that I had to turn her 180 degrees counterclockwise to answer the last big unanswered question. “It’s a girl!” I said. Time of birth: 8:05 p.m.



Sarah pulled the baby, blood-splotched and barely crying, in front of her on the bed and just stared for a moment. Already, Paige’s body was flushing pink. Sarah turned to look over her left shoulder. Her mouth fell wide open. She flashed a look of exalted, lottery-winning amazement just in time for Mary to snap a photo. As much as any moment Friday, that one captured the wonder and joy of the birth.



Mom lay aglow across the bed. I held Claire as I snipped the umbilical cord.



After some cleanup and the birth of the placenta (“That looks like a big worm,” Claire said, pointing at the cord), everyone cleared out to give the four of us some time alone as a family.





Kara Cirioli, who arrived 5 minutes after the birth, began snapping wonderful post-partum photos.




Eventually, Nicole and Susie started Paige's first checkup. We moved the party into our master bedroom.



Claire stripped and finally put the labor tub to use with a good swim and splash.



Susie weighed Paige with an old-fashioned scale: A whopping 9 pounds, 5 ounces. She measured 21 inches long. Her head? A Hanson noggin at 14 inches.



Claire quickly took to the big sister role, curious about everything, wanting to touch and examine the baby.



We feel so blessed as a family to have had a great birth team, helpful friends and a healthy baby. And we got to experience the birth in our own beds. I was stunned to realize immediately afterward, upon viewing some of the photos Kara and Mary took, that we are now a family of four. I'm not sure when I would've realized that had we had the birth in a hospital, where mom and baby are often separated and we likely would have had Claire staying with a babysitter. Instead, Claire got to witness the birth of her sister and immediately joined us in her care. Mary vowed to have a home birth herself. Almost makes dad want a third........ Almost.

RIP CeeCee

Paige enters our lives. CeeCee exits.



We put CeeCee to sleep this morning after her health took a sudden and ironic nosedive. Following a not uncommon bout with diarrhea last weekend, she stopped eating, got so weak she could hardly walk and, as Sarah put it, lost her spark. At least she got a chance Saturday to take one final sunbath in our familiar back yard.

I could write a post the length of a novella about her life and its nine lives of escapes and escapades. Suffice it for now to say squirrels, pigeons, seagulls and uncooked refrigerated turkeys everywhere are safer today.

Paige Celeste

Born 22 hours ago.



The skinny to come.

Birth day? No! Birthday!

While we wonderously awaited the arrival of our little mystery child, Claire paused Sunday to celebrate the birthday of her good buddy Tarn.




Here, after seemingly worrying about how Tarny's efforts to blow out her candles might impact the icing on each cupcake, the rest of the party decided to join in on the blowing of candle #3.



Later: What's a party without a slide?

Overheard

A conversation shortly after 8 p.m. last night.


Claire: "Where's momma?"

Daddy: "Momma went for a walk outside. She thought maybe it would help baby come out."


Long pause.


Claire: "Baby gonna come out on the sidewalk?"

Spring?!?!? Where?

This was the scene last Saturday outside our front window:



Yes, it had been snowing on Thursday and Friday, but this was actually sleet. Sarah nearly balked at our plans to drive to meet friends for an early dinner. We did anyway.


We met Sophie and Noelle at Lucky Lab. Mark introduced us to baby Ella, only a couple weeks old...



Claire was very curious.

Earlier that morning, before the sleet, we woke to find CeeCee's water dish muddy, with dirty paw prints leading away. I explained to Claire that a racoon had walked up the steps and washed its paws in the dish.



Claire then took her baby doll and showed it the dish and the paw prints, reiterating to the baby what we had just told her.



Of course, no explanation is too important for Claire to stop and smile for a camera.

Still no news....

...but doesn't this image put to rest any questions about how big sister will accommodate a baby sibling?