Another Birthday Reflection

Today my "baby" turns 28. She's the only one of my children who, on her birthday, asks me to tell her the story of the day she was born. I just spoke with her, and in a 45-minute conversation we talked about everything from politics to job searches and interviews to the meaning of life, but we didn't get to the story of October 1, 1980. Now she has begun a day fully scheduled with work, time with friends and a date with her partner this evening at a restaurant she's been anxious to try. It's possible I won't talk to her again today, so I'll tell the story here:

The story really begins the night before when Cosmo and I went to a Marriage Encounter meeting with a group of people who had become our friends and support network in a surprisingly short time. We met at the home of the couple who would become Diva's godparents. Cosmo remembers vividly that the future godmother served doughnuts, but that detail escapes me.

What I do remember is that I shared with the group the fact that at this stage in the game-- my ninth month of pregnancy-- I was not at all sure that I had the wherewithal to be a good mother to three children. Somebody said point blank, "Why, dear, you're just terrified, aren't you?" At first I vehemently denied that I was that scared, but being the M.E. folks that they were, and hellbent on identifying FEELINGS, they weren't going to let me off until I admitted that, yes, I was feeling scared, maybe even terrified. And that being out on the table, we moved on, because in M.E. you don't judge feelings, you just identify them and let them be what they are.

But I went home with a few things to think about: first that I was, in fact, scared, and second that it was OK to be scared, and right around the corner from that-- now that the fear was identified and out there-- was the possibility that I could consider and talk about exactly what I was so afraid of. Hmmm... I couldn't quite articulate it, except that I was just not sure that I would be able to give all the time, attention and love that three children would need. Especially since the two we already knew were best described as Night and Day, and I just couldn't quite imagine what other personality flavors there might be.

As it turned out there wasn't much time to ponder any of this, because sometime during that night my labor started, and by 6:00 the next morning our next-door neighbor was settled in and ready to care for Teed and Nando and get them off to school, and Cosmo and I were packed up and heading off to the hospital.

The morning commuter traffic slowed us down a bit, but that didn't stop Cosmo from stopping at a convenience store for a pack of cigarettes. (Seems almost incomprehensible today, but wasn't a wild idea back then.) The plan was for Cosmo to be present during delivery (somewhat optional, maybe even a little controversial in those days), but as my labor progressed, at some point he announced that he felt faint; no surprise considering he had an empty stomach and was operating only on nicotine. (I, on the other hand, had had the foresight and rebelliousness to eat something before we left home, because I knew they wouldn't feed me at the hospital until after the baby was born)

It took the nurses about two seconds to whisk Cosmo out of the room and set him up with juice and crackers.Truth be told, I think they were of the school of thought that purports to fathers being better off out of sight during birthing, and were just as happy to have him out of the way. (Have I spelled out clearly enough that these were different times?)

With Cosmo taken care of, we got on to the business of delivering this baby. It all went pretty smoothly, and calmly, and I will always remember the doctor saying,"It's a girl," followed by the nurse cooing appreciatively, "Oh, she is BEAUTIFUL." And she was, just a perfect pink bundle, making her first appearance with little fuss, just showing up.

Blood sugar restored, Cosmo was first on the scene to admire and hold our little girl, to kiss me and assure me that all was well with the world, and to make phone calls to grandparents.

And all was well with the world, and over time I learned the age-old lesson that all experienced mothers know, that a mother's heart has plenty of love, and that each addition to a family only expands our capacity to love.

Nevertheless, I not only had fears about being an inadequate mother, I also harbored a very real dread of living in a prolonged state of sleep deprivation. Wisdom of the ages aside, of this I was certain: I don't do sleep deprivation well or gracefully or cheerfully. Not even a little bit.

I've heard that God answers all prayers, only sometimes the answer is no. I also think sometimes when the answer is yes, and we get what we ask for, it becomes more of a challenge to growth than the lessons learned through disappointment.

In any case, my selfish and immature heart had spent plenty of time in supplication, asking for a healthy baby who slept. A LOT. And amazingly, mercifully, I was granted exactly that, a beautiful, healthy baby who slept like a little bear in hibernation. Feed her, change her, rock her, put her down and she was out for the count, even with all the household noise that comes with two older children running around. And when she woke up, she'd coo and play patiently until someone came in to get her.

As she grew, her ability to sleep soundly became the material for many a family legend, including the time we were staying in a hotel and the fire alarm went off in the middle of the night and we had to leave the building. When we couldn't rouse our little sleeping beauty, Cosmo scooped her up, wrapped her in a blanket, carried her down multiple flights of stairs and into the parking lot where we stood with the other guests until we got the all-clear to return to our rooms. Cosmo carried his little bundle back up the stairs and returned her to her bed, her sleep undisturbed. And she didn't remember any of this when we told her about it the next morning. Now THAT'S a good sleeper.

Of course, that is only one quality about her that is noteworthy, but that's all material for other postings. Today is the birthday story.

So, Happy Birthday to the nicest surprise I ever got.