Double Happiness, Part II

(continued from Double Happiness, Part I)

Midwives are required to stay with the woman for two hours after the birth to monitor vitals and generally ensure everything is OK. Knowing they'd be around for a while, my mother and I prepared food and tea, a small spread of crackers, cheeses, fruits and snacks and fresh baked pizza.

It's funny - everyone said they weren't hungry, but after cajoling them for a bit, they dove into the food with gusto. I split my time between our guests and my wife and new son for a short time, then, once my mother had everything in hand, I quietly shut the door to the bedroom and my wife, son and I had some more quiet time.

Newborns, as I've mentioned before, are not pretty in the conventional sense. In fact, for a few weeks after the birth they still look like wizened and somewhat plump old men ("men" specifically because they look like they're balding). I'm going to assign "Kenshin" as my second son's moniker - it was one of the Japanese names we considered for him and later rejected. Kenshin sometimes reminds me of Churchill. We gazed at Kenshin, the product of our love and nine months of Marli's body protecting and nuturing this tiny new life. Briefly, it felt unreal, like somehow the past few hours of pain and anxiety hadn't really happened, and this bundle of flesh and needs didn't belong to us.

Eventually the midwives interrupted our musings - it was time for another brief status check, and I took the opportunity to fulfill a promise. Six months before, when we had found out that Marli was pregnant, we went to a place called "Fran's" - a 1940s era diner on College west of Yonge - to celebrate. While there, Marli happened upon their famous rice pudding and suggested that when the baby was born, she would love to have a Fran's rice pudding as a special reward.

So it was, at 7:40 on a Monday night, I left the house to go get Fran's rice pudding. Since the midwives are typically supposed to leave two hours after the birth, I said my goodbyes, expecting them all (with the exception of my mother, of course) to be gone when I returned.

I walked into Fran's fifteen minutes later feeling lighter than air. I ordered two rice puddings and a cheeseburger combo (Marli having assured me that she didn’t want anything). I couldn't help telling the server about my good fortune. Two sons! She asked me a few questions - when? Which hospital? At home? Really? How is your wife?

I mentioned that Marli had specifically requested Fran's rice pudding as a treat. She seemed pleased. I tipped her exorbitantly (especially for a take out order - hey, share the happiness, right?) and left for home.

Another quarter of an hour later, I was back home. The midwives were still there - there was a small detail that they were waiting on before they could go. I delivered the pudding to Marli in bed and tucked into my meal, feeling pretty peckish myself.

Once the midwives were satisfied with the situation, they packed up. Another round of thank-yous and goodbyes. I chatted briefly with my mother afterward and then she too packed up her gear to go home. I couldn't (still can't) thank her enough.

So we were left as our own small family (again minus, for the moment, Daigoro, who would return the day following with my parents-in-law). I considered the life experiences that would be lost as the result of not having a daughter, but also all the joy that two brothers could have together.

"A boy should have a brother," Marli said.

Double happiness. A Chinese phrase usually seen at weddings, probably not appropriate for a birth, but it sounds fitting. I've recently been learning Chinese characters while picking names for Kenshin, and I looked up the character used in the "double happiness" character. It's the character for a drum, superimposed over the character for a mouth. Song and drumbeats - music. Happiness. Twice over.

Seems like the blessing of two sons to me.

Double Happiness, Part I

What words can possibly describe the experience of a new birth? My wife mentioned to me recently a saying (she couldn't remember the source) which went something like this: "People who don't believe in God usually haven't attended a birth." It is a miraculous experience. To try to document such an event with mundane descriptions seems almost to belittle it. But even a few years can dull the memory of the experience, so it's best to get it written down while it's fresh in my mind.

Easter Monday began quietly. Although Marli had been having sporadic contractions throughout the weekend, we felt that it was reasonable to invite my parents over to visit - both wanted to spend some time with Daigoro. We were having a relaxed visit, chatting with my parents and playing with Daigoro.

After Daigoro went down for his afternoon nap, my mother settled into some knitting while my father decided to take some time to get to know my musical tastes by listening to shuffled songs on my iPod. After 3:00 PM, my wife called me from the bedroom and quietly informed me that "it looks like we're having a baby today." Her water had broken not too long before. In fact, she had been chatting with my parents just a half an hour earlier when the stronger contractions had begun, and she intentionally concealed her discomfort in order to not get my parents overly excited just in case things didn't progress. I went out to tell my parents, who were delighted by the news. We had planned a home birth with midwives, so we had a lot to do.

We started making preparations. Daigoro woke up not too long afterward, so we bundled him up so that my father could take him to my parents-in-law's house. My wife prefers more privacy when she's in labour, so there was some urgency in getting my father and my son out of the house that I didn't communicate well initially. My mother had volunteered to provide support during the birth with hosting and other duties not directly associated with birthing. After they were safely on their way, the midwives arrived shortly after 4 PM.

My wife has had medical training, so she had recognized a potential problem - there was meconium in the ammniotic fluid (I'll hold off on describing exactly what meconium is for the squeamish - if you want to know, look it up). This can cause several complications if the baby has aspirated any of it, so as part of the protocol they would need to call the paramedics so that they could intubate if necessary. The alternative was to go to the hospital. After a consult and a few more checks, the midwives and my wife decided that it would be safer for all concerned to go to the hospital.

I felt disappointed - we had planned on a home birth for many months - but safety had to come first. I grabbed the hospital bag my wife had prepared as well as a bag with my own personal items and prepared to go to the hospital while the midwives checked my wife one more time. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it) her cervical dilation had increased from 5 cm to 7 cm in the short time that it had taken us to make the decision to leave (less than 10 minutes). The baby wanted to be born soon, so we shifted gears once again, dropping the bags and preparing to call the paramedics as we got closer to transition (the transition from strong contractions to the final stages of pushing - the last few centimetres of cervical dilation). At this point it was almost 5:15.

Things were progressing quickly. Marli's contractions were strong and spaced less than five minutes apart. I was told to stop timing the contractions as we got close to 5:30, and the paramedics were called. Firefighters arrived within five minutes (briefed quickly by one of the midwives on the precautionary nature of their presence) and paramedics shortly thereafter. Marli by this point was quite close and the pressure was strong and difficult for her. She prefers neither to be touched nor talked to when in pain, so I stood by, ready to assist, but mostly silent, especially during contractions. The paramedics (and the firefighters) wanted to be in the room, but they were respectful of the midwives instructions and remained outside. I was told later by my mother that two of the younger firefighters were somewhat unnerved by Marli's "vocalizations" and left to sit in the truck outside.

Marli hates to labour on her back, but unfortunately her discomfort made it difficult to get her to adopt a new position. Words of encouragement and rational explanations didn't quite seem to cut it; Marli said afterward, "it was like the cooperative part of me just shut off." The students were quiet and attentive, taking fetal heartrates at the correct times - the heartbeat was strong and steady as I heard it - rapid squishy thumps sloshing out of the Doppler like someone operating a plunger in a slushy machine.

Soon it came time to start pushing, around quarter to six, and we had to "help" Marli adopt a slightly different position on her side, with two people on the upper leg, another on the lower and two more "in the slot" (to use a somewhat appropriate military/hockey term). It was obviously uncomfortable for her, but it was pretty necessary as far as I understand.

To prospective natural childbirth coaches: the period immediately prior to transition seems to take forever; be prepared for this. To be with your wife/lover/friend/daughter (whatever your relation to the mother) in quite severe pain is difficult - there's not a whole lot you can do. People endure pain in quite different ways, of course. Marli vocalized quite loudly - not panicked screaming, but certainly sharp and urgent. She describes the worst of the pain as feeling like your pelvis is being pulled apart, which of course is pretty much what's happening. It's hard to relate to this kind of pain when you're male - the only thing I can think of is that if you can imagine the worst joint lock you've ever been in, but continuously for a long period without relief. Translate this pain to your groin and pelvis area. Now, add to this pain the worst sensation of being "blocked up" you can possibly imagine. Now amp that combined pain up a few notches and throw in whatever cramp and muscle pain that you usually get from taking any uncomfortable squatting or sitting position for more than a few minutes.

Yeah. Ouch. That's one of many reasons why I'd never begrudge a woman the decision to not have a drug-free birth experience.

I could see the pain and effort in her eyes and face, but I could also see the strength. She wasn't panicking. I love my wife.

Marli was pushing in earnest now. There was a sense of urgency in the room, but also a quiet professionalism that I had to admire. A few unpleasant details I'll leave out of this narrative, but suffice it to say that birth is a messy experience; fortunately Marli had expertly prepared the bed to prevent staining almost a week before. Just before six the head was starting to show - the midwives quickly checked the cord and cleared it from being in a dangerous position (wrapped once, loosely), a minor complication but one that I was thankful for experienced midwives to deal with it. It seemed to take somewhat longer than normal for the crowning to finish. As seconds ticked into minutes, the situation became a little more serious, if not critical. The midwives worked their magic, using a combination of manipulating the baby and mama's legs (not without protest) to get the necessary room. The head crowned just after 6 PM, but there was also a short period where we were unable to get the rest of the shoulders and body through. With some effort, our son emerged at 6:04 PM on Easter Monday into the waiting hands of his father. I held him for a moment before placing him on his mother's stomach while the midwives quickly cut the cord.

My new son was a pale grey-pink and somewhat floppy as he was whisked out of the room to the kitchen table we had set up as a potential resuscitation table. The paramedics stood ready to intubate, but as soon as they began to suction, he coughed and began to cry.

I had remained in the room with Marli. She was already apologizing to the midwives for being "uncooperative" during the birth. I quickly ducked out to find out our son's status. Seeing the midwives already towel-cleaning a crying newborn, I knew that I would be able to tell Marli our son was going to be OK.

One of the paramedics looked over at me and asked, "How's daddy?" My wife often observes that with all the focus on the mother and child, fathers are often overlooked during a birth. With all of the emotion of the minor complications (potential aspiration of meconium, awkward cord position, prolonged period to crown and deliver the shoulders) I felt that I had to maintain a calm exterior. Now that need for composure was gone, I found myself suddenly brimming up with tears of joy, "Fine," I said roughly, "I'm fine, thanks."

I returned to the room to update my wife. A minute or so later, after the midwives had a chance to clean up the baby and do a few checks, they returned our son to us. Already he was a much healthier pink, crying and looking about with dark, almond-shaped eyes.

While the midwives worked around us and in the adjacent room with the much-appreciated aid of my mother, filling out paperwork and generally cleaning up, Marli and I enjoyed a brief quiet moment with our newborn son.

(to be continued in "Double Happiness, Part II)

Enter Daigoro

(Note: If you're reading this blog for the first time, be sure to read the inaugural post, "The (Little) Middle Way" first)

What (or more accurately, who) is Daigoro?

Daigoro was the name of the fictional character Kozure Okami's son, who accompanied him in his epic adventures across Feudal Japan. I've chosen to use Daigoro as a pseudonym for my son - it's an obvious choice given my choice of nickname.

This Daigoro, my Daigoro, entered into this world in the early hours of the first week of April, 2005. My wife (who as yet lacks a pseudonym and will thus go nameless for the time being) had convinced me of the benefits of a home birth, and we had planned together for the event. Being a first time father, I was nervous, of course, but I was also well prepared by the patient and well-informed coaching of my wife, who has quite a bit of knowledge in childbirth from her medical-related education.

While she had been experiencing symptoms of early labour since that morning, she was convinced that she had some time yet to wait even as I arrived home from work around 6:30 that evening. We had taken a short course in so-called "self-hypnosis", a method of inducing a trance-like state which assisted in reducing both the perception of pain and making time seem to go by more quickly when feeling discomfort. It's actually a none-too-complex method, but it requires practice and preparation.

I suggested that she should being the early steps of going into a light state of self-hypnosis so that once labour began in earnest, she'd be prepared, but she declined, thinking she had plenty of time yet. She even went so far as to start doing laundry. By 9:30, though, she realized that perhaps this was proceeding a little faster than she expected and we paged the midwives. I believe they arrived sometime around 10:30, but my recollection of events is somewhat skewed.

Things proceeded quickly after that. The midwives were wonderful and my wife was brave (albeit understandably unreasonable at times) and my son was delivered without drugs (the term "natural childbirth" always seems a little snobbish to me) shortly before 3 AM. I am proud to say that I had enough of my wits about me to be in a position to "catch" the baby - as he emerged, he was cradled in my hands first.

Perhaps in some future post, I'll try to better capture the details of the birth, but it was first and foremost a whirlwind experience. I can barely remember details - helping my wife, comforting her, trying to play host to our midwives - it all seemed to happen so fast. One thing I will always remember, however, is the moment of pure joy as I held my son for the first time and wrapped him in blankets to give to his mother.

As it happened, we had been expecting a girl. During a routine ultrasound, my wife overheard the technician describing "girl parts" in medical lingo that my wife could understand. So, as the baby emerged and I saw that it was a boy, I was both happy for the health of a new child, but also surprised that it would be a son and not a daughter.

I suppose it is somewhat of a throwback in today's society to want a son as your first born, but I would be dishonest to say I wasn't hoping for one. Patrilinear primogeniture is a sexist concept, but it dies hard in the male mind.

Despite it being a relatively fast labour, it understandably left my wife quite drained. We bustled about for a little while, made a few phone calls and after thanking the midwives, we tumbled into bed. Thus ended Daigoro's first night on earth.

Since I'm starting this blog belatedly about 21.5 months into Daigoro's development, I'll have to bounce back and forth between current accounts of him and what happened in the past. I hope you will forgive me any temporal confusion this may create.

Daigoro today is a healthy and vigorous young toddler, with a wry, scrunched up smile and a ready laugh. His eyes, sometimes describes as "snapping black" are indeed so dark brown as to be nearly black. He has a mop of wavy light brown hair when it hasn't been cut short (as his mother prefers) and is pretty average-sized for a child his age. He is long-bodied and short limbed, like both his parents, and though not quite stocky, he is certainly solidly built. His current speed settings seem to be "running" and "running faster" but if he interested in something, he will sit down to contemplate it quite thoroughly.

While generally quite happy and pleasant, he also has a meditative and contemplative nature at times, looking very serious when he beetles his lightly toned eyebrows and simply gazes about curiously.

His passions are currently trucks, cars and trains, a trait which I imagine he shares with 80% or more of North American boys. His first word was "shoe", learned because he so enjoys going outside; putting on his shoes meant going there. His current vocabulary is thus (rendered here in no particular order other than the ones that spring first to mind, and by no means comprehensive):

shoe, car, mommy, mom, momma, dada, daddy, kitty, bib, cookie, no, down, up (sometimes up and down get reversed), outside, door, open, hockey, stick, broken, doggie, gi-chan (Japanese familiar term for "grandfather"), truck, plane, train, come, please, thank-you, welcome, juice, water, key, pooh, bama (banana), cracker, cookie, yes (also "yup" and "yeah"), ow, bath, wet, ball, go, one-two-three (said mostly by rote when "counting" something, not always actually related to the number being counted and often restarted), pizza (well, "pida", but close enough), bread, toast, jam, cereal, apple (applies to all round, reddish or red-orange fruits), orange, sock, fish(y), cow, horse, pig, chicken, bird, play, dance, snow, cold, hot, baby, treat(s), tree, wheee, okay, tee (TV), pooh (as in the bear, not the body function), light, diaper, corn, book, jacket, pants, shirt, mitten(s), bike + various names of family members and fellow homecare children.

There are a number of other words he seems to understand without necessarily being able to repeat them to us - our instruction to be "gentle" for example. Taking a moment to write down these words, it's interesting to note what he's learned and what he hasn't learned by this point.

In some cases ("thank you", "please"), I'm quite happy he's learned the words. In others ("pooh", "tee"), I'm not quite as proud.

No one said this path would be easy.