Such a mix of emotions about the emergency c-section...
Of course the fear and the stress of the whole ordeal left a mark. And there was disappointment. I was psyched to labor and push this baby out. (And what better baby to push out than this tiny one?) I was disappointed because for months I had been preparing myself for labor. I wanted to labor at home as long as possible. Then, because it was Baby #3 and because she was so small, I wouldn't even be at the hospital very long before pushing her out. I also had plans for how I would do some things differently from the first two, hopefully improving the experience. And I was so looking forward to the hour or 2 after her birth. I would have an adrenaline high and I was so excited about the alert time so many babies have right after they're born. Well, none of those things happened. In fact, everything seemed rather surreal after we were back home with Lydia. I had been psyching myself up for a huge event that never happened. But here I was with the final product: a beautiful little girl.
The other disappointments were knowing that I had a long healing time ahead of me and knowing that this c-section may change the course of any future delivery.
But my overwhelming emotions were those of gratitude and relief. We were so grateful that the doctor here in Red Lake had the foresight to send us out before things got to a true state of emergency. (Looking back, I think things were probably more urgent than we realized when they evacuated us, but we didn't need to know everything at the time.) We were so glad to be in Winnipeg with nurses and doctors who do labor and delivery all day, every day. It was good to know that we were just down the hall from an operating room if needed and that this was all a fairly normal course of events for the staff.
We were so grateful and relieved to have Lydia arrive safe and sound. In the end, we were just glad to have her with us, however she arrived.
"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." Lao-tzu
July 1, 2008
This journey so far has taken me one thousand and four miles from my hometown, but I’m having trouble putting my finger on the single step that began it all. Was it Monday afternoon at the border when they gave me my official document allowing me to pass? Was it Saturday morning when we started the car and drove out of Goshen in our funny little caravan? Was it in February when we came up to Red Lake for a job interview at the hospital? Was it two Christmases ago being up here with Kendall’s family and all of us rating our desire to live up here? (I can’t say my number on a scale of 1 – 100 was high, but it was the highest of all the in-laws, so I guess I’m the chosen one.) Was it three years ago almost to the day that Kendall first said, “What if we’d move up here?” (I tried to ignore that one for several months, thinking surely it would go away.) Or was it June 10, 2000 when I married Kendall and made some solemn promises before God and all these witnesses? Was it a night before Kendall and I were married when we talked about moving to Red Lake? (It was a far off and romantic possibility at that time.) Or was it living in and visiting different cultures at different times in my life? Could the first step have been when my parents brought me as a baby to this same area for a year of voluntary service? (Kendall wasn’t born yet, but I surely saw his parents as they chatted with mine from time to time.) What about when my dad lived on a nearby reserve for two years before he was married? Or when my mom visited this town with her family as a teenager? Or maybe it had something to do with choices my grandparents made? Or other ancestors farther back?
At any rate, moving into this house where I slept for a few weeks as a baby and where my dad stayed as a teenager, has made me very aware of roots. And how they affect our lives and choices and passions.
I suspect there is no single step that began our move a thousand miles away from Indiana. It seems, rather, to be a coming together of so many different factors. (Not the least of which is marrying a man who has taken this land as a very part of his being. And for all the ways I can tease him and get annoyed at some of his woodsman ways, I really do mean that in a reverent and respectful way.)
So here we are, a thousand miles from nowhere. (Oops…I meant a thousand miles from Goshen.) I know that we safely made the journey here, but mostly our journey is just beginning. And mostly I’m excited.
This journey so far has taken me one thousand and four miles from my hometown, but I’m having trouble putting my finger on the single step that began it all. Was it Monday afternoon at the border when they gave me my official document allowing me to pass? Was it Saturday morning when we started the car and drove out of Goshen in our funny little caravan? Was it in February when we came up to Red Lake for a job interview at the hospital? Was it two Christmases ago being up here with Kendall’s family and all of us rating our desire to live up here? (I can’t say my number on a scale of 1 – 100 was high, but it was the highest of all the in-laws, so I guess I’m the chosen one.) Was it three years ago almost to the day that Kendall first said, “What if we’d move up here?” (I tried to ignore that one for several months, thinking surely it would go away.) Or was it June 10, 2000 when I married Kendall and made some solemn promises before God and all these witnesses? Was it a night before Kendall and I were married when we talked about moving to Red Lake? (It was a far off and romantic possibility at that time.) Or was it living in and visiting different cultures at different times in my life? Could the first step have been when my parents brought me as a baby to this same area for a year of voluntary service? (Kendall wasn’t born yet, but I surely saw his parents as they chatted with mine from time to time.) What about when my dad lived on a nearby reserve for two years before he was married? Or when my mom visited this town with her family as a teenager? Or maybe it had something to do with choices my grandparents made? Or other ancestors farther back?
At any rate, moving into this house where I slept for a few weeks as a baby and where my dad stayed as a teenager, has made me very aware of roots. And how they affect our lives and choices and passions.
I suspect there is no single step that began our move a thousand miles away from Indiana. It seems, rather, to be a coming together of so many different factors. (Not the least of which is marrying a man who has taken this land as a very part of his being. And for all the ways I can tease him and get annoyed at some of his woodsman ways, I really do mean that in a reverent and respectful way.)
So here we are, a thousand miles from nowhere. (Oops…I meant a thousand miles from Goshen.) I know that we safely made the journey here, but mostly our journey is just beginning. And mostly I’m excited.
1 comment:
Thanks so much for writing your birth story and you're feelings about it. I love to hear all the details! I am so sorry things didn't go as planned. I think that's something you have the right to mourn the loss of. BUT it sounds like you are staying positive and thankful! It seems like you got the best experience possible given a rather negative situation. Good doctors and nurses make things so much better (and a good husband ta boot!). I hope you're getting some rest and enjoying your family. Love you!
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