Friday, October 26, 2012

Bunting and blankets.

These were seriously such a pain to make.

I get impatient, especially with scissors, so my triangles on the bunting and squares on the quilt were not exactly even. This caused problems for me later. I had all kinds of mishaps with my machine because I am really just re-learning how to use it. I had to thread that bobbin so many times I could do it in my sleep now. What a tangled, awful mess!

I am ashamed to say I was ornery and cussed more than I should during this time. And over such small things... The needle becoming unthreaded, my stitches swaying from one side to the next... I am no perfectionist but the number of misfortunes for this project made began to turn me batty.

The crowning frustration came when I accidentally sewed the quilt inside out. After crying about it for a couple days, I unpicked the stitches and re-did everything. I kind of hate this blanket now. Too bad. The Woodland Storyboek fabric is even more adorable in person than I imagined.

If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.

Emerson Flynn: a birth story.

When I woke up on October the fifteenth, I knew it would be your birthday.

It always seemed like such a mystery to me, your arrival. You could have come at any time. How many October fifteenths have I lived through, never suspecting it would be the day you would be born? It was a beautiful day. A good day.

I went to the hospital at 7:15 in the morning to be induced. The nurse was very kind to me. I was shaking and my blood pressure was high-- my heart raced. I was so scared to have you.

It was a long day, as you might imagine. I was never in terrible pain. Your papa was the biggest help with that. He stood by my side and held my hand for 15 hours, right up until the moment you came. I was so tired then. I heard you cry. I felt such profound relief and such grief. Having you was hard. You were such a big baby! I couldn't push you out on my own. The doctor used forceps and the vacuum and you still wouldn't come. Your papa said he saw your head. He said you had a lot of hair, and you did. I wanted to cry but I was too tired. The doctor had to do a c section after 13 hours of labor. I will never stop being sad that you were introduced to this beautiful world so violently.
You won't remember, but you were brave and cried far less than you had a right to while we healed.

When I saw you for the first time your chin was quivering and you were crying as the nurses weighed you on the scale. You were brand new, just taking your first breaths. You weighed ten pounds. You had a black eye and a bruise on the top of your head from the vacuum.
You were so beautiful.
I wondered where you came from, it seemed too impossibly amazing that you could exist. You are more wonderful than I ever could have hoped.

You were worth it.

I love you, Flynn.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Wednesday Winston: swaddle

We are practicing for the baby, and guess who loves it?

Monday, October 01, 2012

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)

I listened to my baby's heartbeat for twenty straight minutes today.
Because of the high risk of stillbirth in babies born to diabetic women, my doctor has ordered a bi-weekly, no-stress test. This means that I am hooked up to fetal monitors for almost half an hour while a machine records the heartbeat and movements of my baby.

The nurse placed the heart monitor on my belly in a random spot, and there it was. Almost embarrassingly loud. The whrr-whrr-whrr of a small heartbeat. It quickened with every kick. It slowed when I took deep breaths. I marveled at how attached this tiny person is to me, how my movements and emotions can guide his pulse. And yet he is also independent; I never commanded his heart to start beating. He did that all on his own.

My sister once pointed out that the most amazing point of her pregnancy came when she realized she carried not merely her own, but another heart inside her body. She had, in a sense, TWO hearts. While this realization made my brother feel queasy, I found it enlightening. I remember my first doctor's appointment well. I anxiously awaited that heartbeat, couldn't contain how dumbfounded I was to see its bright flash on the ultrasound screen and to hear its infinitesimal purr. It's a part of me that I can't control. It belongs to him but it is kept alive by me.
Mine but not me. Him but not his.

I love to hear it. It is the beautiful sound of reassurance.
I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

--e.e. Cummings