When you were born...

From Patagonia Ele...

When you were born...



Starting on December 21, I was on call every other day through the 25th, which means I was at home from about Noon until 5am the following morning on the 22nd, 24th, and 26th. I had it all worked out: work straight until the 28th and then I would have five days off, followed by 7 more days of vacation. During these 12 days I was hoping would bring the fourth child of ours. If her respect of my schedule is any indication, Pati will be a most compliant and obliging daughter. There was a crossover date where I had coverage at the hospital, but was expected to be there. Kristi started having contractions starting somewhere around 7pm on the 26th, a day where I got off around noon from a 30-hour shift of being on call at the hospital. I was able to nap some from 11 or so until about 3am when the groaning next to me became a bit more intense and closer together.



The plan was to take the three kids next door to our wonderful neighbor's place (Dana and Nancy Ewing) as soon as we needed to, but we had some backup just in case. On around 6:00 on the morning of the 27th I realized that I needed to get in gear and make sure the kids were breakfasted, clothed, pottied and had a change of clothing in preparation for a quick trip next door to the neighbor's place. Somewhere after the oatmeal was ready (yes, I can cook when I have to, but the trick is to make it edible but not too close to savory that you are asked upon to perform the culinary art during non-emergent states) and the bags were nearly packed our lovely midwife Heather Judson decided to see how things were progressing. Feel, rather, is more like it, I guess. Anyhow, I didn't hear any words of the conversation that was going on in the "exam" room except for the word "COMPLETE."



Now, maybe to the lay person that doesn't mean anything, but I suppose it would be like telling a cook that their oatmeal was either about to boil over or had run out of water. In the next few minutes the children were up, dressed, hastily fed, and packaged and delivered next door after a call to the neighbor at 7am. Fortunately for us, our midwife is no lay person either, and the word "COMPLETE" meant that in the time I had packaged and delivered the bewildered children next door, our bedroom had been transformed into a birthing suite, and before long we were full into it, with pushing, a bag of water that broke and showed us the GI tract was working in the new one as there was some meconium staining in the fluid (this can indicate fetal distress and is a problem if the little tot inhales some with the first breath of cool, fresh air). She was pretty efficient after that and before more than 10 minutes had passed, maybe only 5 since the water broke, a crowning head was clearly visible. One push after that we were trying to find the orifices to suction before the rest of the monster was delivered (the baby, of course is the one I mean is being delivered, although I know it is mutual deliverance). It was difficult to suction because she was facing behind mommy, so suctioning was a bit like attempting to find a hole with a screw on the end of a bit on the back side of an ottoman that you are seated in front of. In no way is my lovely wife similar to an ottoman, but that seems the best description I could think up.



Anyhow, there she was and next thing I know we were sitting there wrapping the little sausage in a blanket and working the clamps on a cord after a minute or two. Pati was discovered to be a Pati and not a Mark, or James, or John, or whatever we would have named her if she was a boy at this point, and was noticed to be incredibly quiet, blue, and nealy inactive except for large blinking eyes. We finally rubbed her down and got a little hoarse cry out of her before we clamped and cut the cord. Then we worked on getting Pati pinked up and suctioned out and dried off and wrapped up while waiting for the twin to be born (the placenta that is). This took a bit of time, and I was a bit too close because this placenta was sort of it's own plug, holding back about a quart of blood and fluid that came out all at once and hit me right in the leg and foot. That being over, we had an issue with mom bleeding for about 45 or more minutes after the placenta was delivered, which involved massaging the fundus, giving some shepherd's purse (some herbal thingy), metherjin (that is how you pronounce it anyway), and pitocin that was intermixed with prayer of course.



The bleeding stopped, the baby nursed, we all felt a bit better and then got a nap or two before our first night together as 6. Pati seemed to be quite pleasant, and has continued to seem so. I don't know if this will continue, but we are sure grateful for her quiet voice and calm demeanor. Takes most everything either asleep or quietly gazing into the still winter air as if she is waiting for spring to come before she really wakes up and becomes who she is going to be.



Heather, the aforementioned midwife and long-time family friend, was escorted by 4 of us this morning to the airport, so it is just dad and the three older kids doing their best to stay out of mom's hair and keep everyone fed, in clean clothes, and the house in good walking order (paths clearly marked). I have no idea how my wife does it. I think I would go insane after a week or two dealing with this crew. Not that they are bad kids at all, just that so much is going on and nobody really is that much of a help, yet. I was able to get some help organizing the lincoln logs and such today, and I can warm up a mean frozen pizza and make some pretty sweet hot chocolate. Really, the older kids and I went to the towpath this afternoon while mom and baby and Anne were napping. We made it a good four miles before the girl had to go potty, and it was right next to a latrine, so I consider it a pretty good day, in all. I still am figuring out how I am going to go to the store and get some necessities. Duct tape seems like it would sure come in handy if it weren't for those bothersome CSD people and their spies. I guess it will be discrete pinches in sensitive locations for now.



Well, this was meant to be both a blog entry for you all, as well as an accounting for Patagonia when she gets older and asks about what her birth was like. Actually, it will be for me because by then I will most likely have some form of dementia or memory loss or something, and will need a crutch like this to help me out.



Thanks for the prayers and for not making fun of Pati's name. We figured she could always go by Pati or Elena or Elen or something if she really doesn't like it. If you don't like it, well that's just too bad.



David