A Friend Indeed

I admit, I might be cheating a little here. I'm tired and when I sit down to write about our experiences, or the kids, transitions, life, anything, it just doesn't flow from my sluggish brain.

I've been privileged to have some heart sisters in my life. Women I couldn't live with out. Women I want beside me at my not so finest hour. Women I hope my children will adore and have to turn to their whole lives. Elise is one of them. So, I hope you'll bear with us through one more post about Babynater's birth. After all, this blog isn't just about practicing my writing and maybe entertaining a few readers, it's also a record of this gorgeous, gone in a blink of an eye time in our lives. I want Nate to have this letter for always.

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Dear Nate,

Even though you are only 14 days old, I have known you for more than half a year. I knew you when you were an idea, then a bump, then a slightly larger bump. I knew you as rendered your mother unable to drink a chai and push a stroller at the same time (Gasp!). Then (the horror continues) I knew you when you actually created a chai prohibition; the midwife suggesting you were measuring large and perhaps a cut back in sugar was called for.

All I have to say is: thank god she stopped drinking those chais! You would have been a 10+ pounder for sure had the 4x/week (uh, I mean 1x/week Matt....) consumption continued.

And I knew you as you took your first breath. I saw you pass over that threshold where your mother's body had sustained you and held you close, and into the world. I saw your mother as she sat on the bed at the hospital, cool as a cucumber, making sarcastic comments about her decision not to wax before the big event. I saw her as she began to be unable to laugh through the contractions. I held her leg as she pushed and pushed and cursed and cried and, with beauty and strength and belief in herself, birthed a baby.

Now Nate, I realize you've only been on the outside for a few weeks but you know how you have some moments in your life that remain, like a photo in your head, with you always? I have a few and they are all from times when I felt the most alive, the most present. Catching the first glimpse of your hair is, for me, one of those times.

(I realize it may not be for you because of that whole conscious memory thing, not to mention the fact that your poor little head was getting the begezus squeezed out of it and you are probably not going to be a big fan of any stories involving you and your mother's vagina, but let's focus on me here.)

Your hair, tinted red and moving forward and back inside your mom, coming close and closer into contact with the outside world - we didn't know if you were a boy or a girl, didn't know what kind of personality you would have, when you would smile or crawl or walk or get married or sound like as you gave your first cry, but I could see the top of your head. I could see you, this person, about to emerge from my dear friend Stacey (who I believe at that point was screaming "He's not moving!!! Why isn't he moving??? Somebody help me!!!") and it was spectacular. As was the rest of you that followed.

So thank you, Stacey. I am more honored and touched and giddy that you wanted me to be there with you than I will be able to say. And also a thank you from Jeremy (my husband) whose first question to me after I came home was "...so?" as in "so... since you ended up with a bum emergency c-section the first time did seeing an unmediated birth make you want to give it one more shot so that you don't spend the rest of your life feeling like you missed out on one of the great privileges of being a woman?" To which I could honestly answer "Nope, I think I'm good. It was amazing and awe inspiring, but I think I can live the rest of my life without being in that much pain."

Happy birthday Baby Nate, and much love to you all, anyfamily!