Tag: childbirth

Christmas ’23

I’ve been struggling with whether or not to write a post for Christmas Day.

Maybe, it’s because I’ve been struggling with just about everything related to Christmas this year.

For so many years, the Christmas season brought most of our extended family together, often over a period of days and in various constellations, but this year, it will be just me, spouse B, and daughter T at home together. Daughter E and her family are celebrating an ocean away at home in London. B’s and my siblings are all busily dealing with their families and/or medical issues.

This lack of planned travel and guests turned out to have a silver lining when T was offered a slot for a needed shoulder surgery last week due to a cancellation in the surgeon’s schedule. So, our already subdued Christmas plan got even quieter as we have factored in the early stages of recovery.

While I’ve done some of the Christmas preparations, like singing in Lessons & Carols with the Madrigal Choir of Binghamton, writing Christmas cards and letters, and some gift-shopping and wrapping, the bulk of the decorating, cooking, and baking has been handled by B, with an assist from T prior to her surgery.

I’m sure that my feeling more somber than festive is not helped by the state of the world. The continuing horrors of war in Ukraine, the Middle East, Sudan, and elsewhere. The ever-increasing evidence of climate change impacts. The increasingly vile political rhetoric and threats against judges, Jewish people, Muslims, immigrants, pubic officials, etc. here in the US. The local battle against CO2 fracking with global implications here in the Southern Tier of New York. Increases in cases of flu and COVID in the Northern Hemisphere as winter sets in.

This somber time we face is also reflected in my religious observances. For many years, I was actively involved in music and liturgy planning for Advent and the Christmas season, but I haven’t been for a number of years now. While I still attend and participate in services, some of the anticipation and joy is muted for me.

It’s also true that there are many difficult issues raised by the nativity narrative that seem particularly salient to me this year. The real dangers that Mary faced as a young woman facing pregnancy before marriage. Her being forced to travel and give birth away from the comforts of home and neighbor-women who could come to her aid. The threats to her baby’s life. The slaughter of children ordered in an attempt to kill him. Fleeing to protect her child and their becoming refugees.

Angels and magi aside, there was a lot of pain, fear, and loss.

With all of this in my head, I went to 10 PM mass at my church for Christmas Eve. There was a photo of the baby Jesus amid rubble as displayed at a Palestinian-Lutheran Church in Bethlehem, the birthplace of Jesus on the West Bank, where Christmas observances usually draw crowds from around the world but are not being publicly held this year because of the war. The homily dealt directly with the struggle that I have been having this year and called on us to have hope. As part of the homily, we sang the first verse of “O Little Town of Bethlehem” near the beginning and the fourth, final verse at the end. We sang:

O holy Child of Bethlehem,
descend to us, we pray;
cast out our sin and enter in;
be born in us today.
We hear the Christmas angels,
the great glad tidings tell;
O come to us, abide with us,
our Lord Emmanuel!

Phillips Brooks

The message is to have hope because God, who is Divine and Eternal Love, is with all people of good will, as the angels announce.

I admit that hope is not one of my better virtues, but I will continue to add my actions, small though they are, in the efforts to make the world safer, more loving, more kind.

After all these centuries, still searching for the peace the angels proclaimed…

Low/high

When I wrote this post in the wee hours of Monday morning, I had no idea what new highs and lows the next twenty-four hours would bring…

At 9:00 AM, Nana and I met with her primary care physician, Dr. T. What began as a discussion of her recent symptoms that had prompted us to be there quickly segued into a discussion of how her numerous health conditions and our treatment plan were not succeeding as we had all hoped, how the trajectory while there were ups and downs was trending downward, and how we needed to discuss and prepare for end-of-life planning.

I cried.

As I am sure you can imagine, or, perhaps, know from your own experience, the discussion was painful and emotional, but I am grateful for Dr. T’s honesty, care, and concern that made it possible for us to consider our options and get the help that Nana and all of us need. Barring a sudden event like a stroke, we are likely to have some unknown number of months with Nana, which we want to make as comfortable and peaceful as possible, as filled with family and friends as her strength allows.

We are starting with getting home care recommenced, but the new goal will be to have therapists and aides to help care for her so that she can conserve energy for fun things, instead of wasting it on mundane things. For example, while a goal of her physical therapy had been to be able to walk down to the dining room at their retirement community for dinner, a new goal will be to get a wheelchair so she can ride to the dining room and have energy to eat and visit with friends.

We expect that there will continue to be some days that are better than others, but we hope to have enough support to keep Nana at home in the apartment she shares with Paco. They have been married for 63 years and belong together!

I spent much of Monday afternoon communicating with family members that needed to know what was going on and wrapping my head around our next steps. E and L took over dinner preparations and we settled in for an evening together watching television. E wanted to watch the Stanley Cup (ice hockey) game and was ensconced on the couch with L, when, a bit before 8:00 PM, she startled all of us with the news that her water had broken.

In short order, there was a call to the obstetrician’s office, the message saying to head to the hospital, the hurried assembling of some supplies, and the four of us driving off to the hospital where we arrived at about 8:30.

E and L headed into the delivery suite while B and I set up in the waiting room, thinking that, given that E had not been having noticeable contractions, they might send us home while she rested for the night and waited for labor to begin in earnest. The reason we thought this might be the scenario is that, when I was pregnant with E, my water broke at 36.5 weeks and it took 26 hours for her to arrive.

And E was also at 36.5 weeks.

This was a different labor-and-delivery story.

Baby arrived before 1:00 AM Tuesday, on the sixth of the month.

E was also born on the sixth of the month.

Baby weighed five pounds, five ounces (2.4 kg) and was eighteen inches (46 cm) long.

E was born at that exact weight and length.

Baby has a full head of hair, as did E, although E was strawberry blond (later changing to golden blond) and Baby has dark hair, like L’s.

E and L named their new daughter Ada. Henceforth, I will likely refer to her here on the blog as ABC, which are her initials, but I did want to share her lovely name with you in honor of her birth.

B and I got to share a little time with the new little family before heading home to catch a few winks before the sun rose. We each got to hold our precious first grandchild and reflect on the parallels between E and little Ada.

One more: Ada, like E, is the first grandchild on both sides of the family.

L was able to stay at the hospital with E and ABC until they came home on Wednesday. On Thursday, they went up to meet Nana and Paco.

Nana and Ada 6/8/17
(Great) Nana and Ada meet for the first time

Maybe Ada was in a hurry to arrive so that she could meet Nana as soon as possible.

I’m sure she will bring us all much-needed joy in the coming months.

seeing the unseen

As some readers will recall, older daughter E is currently living with us while her spouse L, a British citizen, is in London with his family. He will be arriving soon for a three month stay to encompass the final weeks of E’s pregnancy, the arrival of Baby, and the early weeks of cuddling, bonding, and diaper/nappy changing. (Have I mentioned lately how dysfunctional and/or in flux the immigration policies of both the US and the UK are?)

In L’s absence, one of my happy duties is to accompany E to the obstetrician’s office. Fortunately, the pregnancy has been progressing smoothly and Baby seems to be thriving and growing according to schedule.

I was pregnant thirty-one and twenty-seven years ago, so a lot has changed in prenatal care. Fetal heart monitors have gotten a lot more compact and easier to use. There is a lot less belly prodding and measuring than when I was expecting. There are more blood tests and standard glucose testing. My daughter received a booster for diphtheria, tetanus, and pertussis so that Baby will have stronger resistance at birth to help prevent whooping cough until the infant vaccines can kick in.

The biggest change, though, is the use of ultrasound. I never had an ultrasound when I was pregnant. While they were available, they were not yet routine and there was no diagnostic reason to order one. As women had for millennia, I relied on hope and faith that all was well, bolstered by the experienced hands and measuring tape of my health providers.

It has been a revelation to be there for E’s ultrasound exams. Most of the time, we have been able to have L join us via skype, which has been nice. E and I have been able to watch as the technician measures the length of Baby’s femur and the circumference of the head. I have been amazed to see the the entire backbone, tiny fingers and toes, all the chambers of the heart beating over 150 times a minutes, the stomach, the bladder, and other organs. From the last ultrasound, we know that Baby weighs about 3 pounds, 10 ounces (1.65 kg) at 31 weeks. We could even seen some fringe of hair atop Baby’s head, not surprising given that both E and L were born with thick heads of hair.

This last detail was particularly poignant for me, because the first detail we knew about baby E was that she had hair on her head, a fact conveyed to us by the maternity nurse who first examined me at the hospital after I arrived late on a Friday night in April with ruptured membranes at 36 weeks. I was only a centimeter dilated, but she could feel the hair on E’s head as it nestled down, getting ready to enter the world. It wasn’t until the early hours of Sunday morning that we would know the hair was strawberry blonde and belonged to our little girl.

We didn’t know that morning, as we welcomed our first child into the world, how wonderful, complicated, heart-warming, and heart-rending parenting would be. We didn’t know the depths of fear, joy, and love we would experience.

And we didn’t know that, thirty-one years later, we would be on hand to witness that cycle of family begin anew for her and her husband as parents, for B and me as grandparents, and for Nana and Paco as great-grandparents.

Even though it is the most common story in the world, its power isn’t diminished. Love makes the ordinary extraordinary.