her birthday

There are a few things in life that almost every woman has an opinion about and more than enough advice to share... weddings, child-birth, breast-feeding and parenting are a few that come to mind. In the rare event that you don't have any women in your life sharing their thoughts on these topics, you can head over to the nearest library and find thousands of books on each topic. Titles may include: a million and one ways to use mason jars at a wedding, how to be the perfect wife, 100 reasons to get an epidural, 100 reasons not to get an epidural, breast-feed your kid or you are an awful mom, how to make your kid love kale and turnips by age two, etcetera. And if this still isn't ringing any bells for you, just wait until you have a sparkly diamond ring on your left hand or gain 25 lbs. in your belly.

With so many ways to throw a wedding, make a baby, have a baby and raise a baby, I decided to simplify my life and heed my mother's advice, listen to my body and read just one book about child-birth when I got pregnant. The book I read is Ina May's Guide to Childbirth. Ina May Gaskin is a famous midwife so her book certainly promotes childbirth without intervention but the first half of the book consists of birth stories written by new moms. I found their stories refreshingly realistic and empowering so I thought I would share our story here to maybe do the same. Here goes...

Right as I crawled into bed Monday night I started having consistent, dull contractions. I knew that I needed to stock up on sleep before the rushes became too intense but I was too excited for much shut-eye. You know- the way you can't sleep the night Santa Claus is coming down your chimney. The excitement of meeting my baby face-to-face was coupled with sadness that my pregnancy was surely in its last hours. I spent the next 24 hours journaling, praying, dozing and savoring each little kick and jab from within while I became familiar with my achy belly every ten minutes or so.

By Tuesday night my rushes were ramping up so Chris and I stayed up late, enjoying our last night alone, alternating between episodes of Lost and House. Eventually Chris nodded off and I labored in bed as long as I could, determined to steal a few minutes of sleep in between contractions. When sleep proved impossible I began rotating between bubble baths and laps around our bedroom. (Ever taken a bath at 2am or 4am? It's a strange feeling.) Finally at six o'clock I needed to call in the troops; I woke up Chris and called my doula, Kristy, to come join the party.

My labor troops- Chris and doula Kristy

We greeted the morning with a brisk speed-walk in our neighborhood. I was looking good in sweat pants that I bought from the men's section of H&M with my 41+ week belly filling out Chris' Cub's t-shirt. Although my contractions were quite strong at this point Kristy encouraged me to continue walking quickly, swaying my hips as much as possible to keep things moving. Labor was here- might as well work towards the pain than shy away from it, right? 

By the end of the walk I was feeling it and spent the next couple hours leaned over a birthing ball while Kristy massaged my back, squeezed my hips and slathered my back with lotion. Back labor sucks; doulas are awesome. I've gotta say, though, I was pretty proud of myself at this point. My contractions were more or less coming one right after one another and I wasn't moaning, yelling, vomiting, cussing, wailing or dying.  

After I had six or seven contractions without a breath in between, I called my awesome midwife, Ursula, who agreed that it was time to load up and head to the hospital. Leaving my home was more emotional than I expected. I still remember exactly how it felt waddling down the two flights of stairs to our car- morning sun streaming into my teary eyes, cool spring air, the beginnings of tulips poking out of the dirt. I left my place of comfort, knowingly headed towards excruciating pain but also anticipating the greatest joy of my life.

We made it up to the the sixth floor of University Medical Center of Princeton in Plainsboro to the labor and delivery section of the hospital without making a scene. My room was so nice with huge windows looking out to the trees and pond outside-- a strange reminder that April nineth was just an ordinary day for so many people. Some people were pumping gas, some were taking their kids for a walk and I was about to push a human being out of my own body!?!?!?! 

I was thrilled when Ursula walked into my room (especially since the labor & delivery nurse and I had already butted heads on some of the hospital protocol in the five minutes we were alone... sorry, I won't wear a hospital gown; I'm not sick. And no, I don't want an IV. I'll just sip on my ginger ale, thank you.). Ursula's presence reassured me that as painful as active labor is, it is still a "healthy state of life" as we had chatted about throughout my pregnancy. In fact, my midwife and doula's presence put me more at ease than the sound of the heart rate monitor strapped to my round belly.

After I hooted and hollered and kicked through my first cervical exam (sorry Ursula), I was dilated to 6 centimeters and was ready to get some pain relief in the jacuzzi tub. I scooted across the hall where the gigantic whirlpool was waiting hoping to find one of those old people bath tubs advertised on TV that have a door so you can easily get in and out. I guess the hospital hadn't thought of that. I'm still not sure how I climbed into that huge tub (and especially how I climbed out of it fully dilated). For the next two hours I floated in the jacuzzi in a bizarre dream-like state holding onto Chris and Kristy's hands, moaning, shaking and crying through each rush of pain. Kristy moaned with me and Chris cried with me.

Unfortunately the hospital's policy does not allow water-births so when I started uncontrollably pushing in the water, I was quickly yanked out and back to my room. Then began the marathon task of pushing my baby out. Somehow pop culture's portrayal of births had led me to believe that labor was the hard part and that it only took a push or two and the baby came barreling out, pink and screaming, so I was quite surprised to find myself seriously pushing an hour and a half later. I remember looking out those huge windows and was relieved to see that it was still daytime.

So with one last excruciating push, Mary Allison made her entrance into this world, gray, still and quiet. Ursula quickly cut the cord tightly wound around May's neck and put her tiny gray body on my chest for less than a second before the neonatal nurse aggressively toweled her down and suctioned her throat. Thankfully Mary Allison began to scream life into her lungs within seconds of being born.

Once the nurse handed her back to me, I remember thinking, "Who the heck are you?" I thought surely I would recognize the tiny sea creature who shared my body for almost a year. Surely I should recognize my own daughter! Wouldn't I see my husband's eyes, my own nose or my mom's bright personality shiny through? We were counting on some sort of hint to nudge us towards one of our two favorite names but our first moments with this stranger were not conclusive. Eventually we named her after both of her grandmothers- Mary Allison. 

Now as I stare into my daughter's face, no longer a stranger to me, I see my husband's chin, my own eyes and, I think, my mom's bright personality.

Mary Allison, I longingly cherish the private moments that we shared together while we were still one body and I am grateful for your safe, 40-hour journey into our world. I would do it all over and over again for you.

The Months of May: One

It's one month of May! 

Love, 

Brigid, Chris and Mary Allison

Week 2

I keep telling myself that I will journal and blog about these first days with Mary Allison but instead I just keep staring at her and soaking up her tiny-ness... one of these days I'll put her down for a minute and grab a pen. 

She'd like you to believe that we never feed her but I assure you that is not true! She's up 9 ounces from her birth weight and already grew 5/8ths of an inch! Slow down, May!! 

 Happy Easter!

Shout out to our friend, Elizabeth Ross, for knitting this adorable carrot!! 

 Sic'em bears!!

Another knitting shout-out to our friend, Meaghan Bond, for knitting this adorable Baylor garb for our future Baylor bear!

 First tummy time!

And one last shout-out to our friend, Tammy Quackenbush, for sewing this incredible quilt!!

All our sleepy love-

Brigid, Chris and Mary Allison

Week 1

 Hi friends! Here is a glimpse into Mary Allison's first week with us!

Mary Allison- day 1 and 2

Hi friends! We wanted to show off our little Mary Allison. :) We plan on keeping her (mostly) off Facebook until she gets older so we will occasionally post photos here so that our far flung friends can keep in touch this way. I hope that I will write blog posts as well, but for now, the photos will have to speak for themselves. 

We were so lucky to have Esther Edith at the birth to photograph our girl's very first hours. We cannot wait to see the rest of her photos soon! (Obviously Esther took this top photo- not the rest of these not quite so professional pics.)

Despite her initial reaction, May has done quite well riding in her little car seat.  

I think that she might have my eyes, but she certainly has her dad's big ol' feet (and hands).

Thank you all for your sweet well wishes. We are certainly blessed.

-Brigid, Christopher and Mary Allison

41 weeks

In some ways pregnancy is one of the most selfless things a woman can experience. For nine whole months-- that's 280 days-- women share their whole body. They give up comfort, sleep, food, privacy, and even the ability to zip up their pants. My little creature seems to be particularly comfy in my womb, stealing more and more space, and more and more time.

At the same time, pregnancy has been one of the most selfish times for me. Although my body is now housing another, I am the one who gets to have nine months alone with my girl. I am the one who is invited to her nightly dance parties. I am the one who shares the Eucharist with her each week at mass. I am the one who provides her protection, her warmth, her food and her bed. 

But soon I will share my girl with the world. Soon, other people will hold my girl-- the girl I've been holding for 287 days and nights. Soon I will share the joy of feeling her kicks, of patting her tiny hiney and holding her tight. 

I promise I will share her. I promise I won't be a helicopter mom. But as her big entrance draws near, please understand that I'm not used to sharing my daughter. I may fiercely hold on to her little swaddled self and not hand her over to expectant arms and cameras. Please let me be selfish for just a little while longer.

So little child of mine, you are welcome to stay wrapped up with me as long as your please. I'm happy to live life with you tucked away in my papoose. Thank you for keeping me company at work, for reminding me that Mexican food and Chick-Fil-A lemonade are as good as I thought, for staying up with me while I studied for my Boards and for being such a good tenant. I hear that there is an eviction notice quickly approaching so I guess we'll have to play by the rules, but you can take your time packing up.

I promise to show you the world.

"was blind but now I see"

It's World AIDS day today so I thought I'd share a blog post that I wrote after my first week living at an orphanage in South Africa for children living with HIV. If you'd like to know more about Rehoboth visit their site: www.rehoboth.org.za. For the rest of my blog posts about my time in South Africa, check out my old blog: www.isaiah4817-southafrica.blogspot.com.

May 22, 2010

Just finished my first real week in SA! God is good. I can hardly wait to tell you all about it... we'll see how much I can cram in to my time at the internet cafe!

I've sung "amazing grace" a million times. Last week, I think I understood it for the first time. One afternoon I was out playing with a bunch of the kids on the jungle gym when Aphiwe toddled up crying because he was lost from the group of kids. Five-year-old Aphiwe is an orphan with HIV who is also blind. He had never met me so whenever I grabbed his hand he immediately started touching my arms, hands and face and smelling me all over. He asked for my name and hasn't forgotten it yet. He climbed up into my lap and then started singing "Amazing Grace." How awesome to hear those words coming from his mouth:
"Amazing grace! How sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost but now am found. Was blind but now, I see."

Hope, joy and love are all very alive here.

Kids are funny. You can tell that all 52 of the kids are drilled in the Gospel. I was out on the jungle gym when group of pre-schoolers came up with a dead frog "crucified" to a cross made out of sticks and a broken balloon. Can't help but laugh. :) The kids love playing with my curly hair and keep asking me why my hair looks like that. Yesterday the girls gave me a new hair-do using sticks and sandbox shovels as brushes and combs. Yikes!

Kids are survivors. Most of the kids here are not just living with HIV. Most come from dark pasts including malnutrition, sexual abuse, domestic abuse and so on. One little boy came to Rehoboth barely alive weighing 2.2kg at SIX months!! He's a year old now and is quite chubby but is very developmentally behind. Some were raped as babies, left in toilets or hospitals to die, some relatives don't even know the child's name. Please pray for these kids.

I have learned so much about HIV/AIDS, Africa and myself and it's only been a week. Here's are a couple of lists for you:

You know you are in Africa when (roadside edition)...
1. You smell sugar cane and chicken farms from the road instead of feed-lots.
2. You see zebras, ostridges (sp?), and monkies from the car window.
3. People are taking a nap literally ON the highway. Like on the actual road where cars are driving!!
4. A Zulu woman is walking with a matress on her head, a baby strapped to her back and bags in both hands while her no-good-lazy-non-gentleman husband is walking ahead with NOTHING in his hands.
5. Three-year-olds are walking on the side of the highway with no supervision.
6. The speed limit is 60 kilometers/hour but the taxis are driving at least 120 kph.

Each day last week I had some sort of training. Here are some of the things I learned on the "HIV/AIDS training day" and other cultural lessons.
1. Three million people die each year from AIDS (that's the population of Chicago)
2. 8000 people day per DAY from AIDS.
3. 50% of people living with AIDS in America do not know.
4. 14,000 people contract HIV each day.
5. The going rate for sex here in Kwa-Zulu Natal is about $5.

With all that said, life is so good here. I'm continually reminded of God's majesty from the children and the beautiful rolling hills outside my window. The other night I sat outside and starred at the stars. I've never seen so many in my life. Psalm 8 pretty much sums it up for me:

"Oh LORD, our Lord. How majestic is your name in all the earth. You have set your glory above the heavens. From the lips of children and infants you have ordained praise because of your enemies, to silence the foe and the avenger.

When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him? You made him a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned him with glory and honor. You made him ruler over the works of your hands; you put everything under his feet: all the flocks and herds, and the beasts of the field, the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea, all that swim the paths of the sea.

Oh LORD, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth."

-Brigid