I was going to write a bit but suffice it to say that I'm tired. And happy. 26 hours of labor, 14 of them active, the pool was a lifesaver, Tim was a treasure, I love my midwives and doula, and I've done it. I've given birth to a perfectly perfect little being. It was really, really hard. Words can't really explain what this whole thing is like. We adore him.
I went to a local photobooth last week. I kept waiting for the verbal instructions as promised. The whole while little colored lights flashed and I realized it was going. When I tried to work with it, it took the pictures in between my poses.
I feel like there is some kind of life lesson there.
Last night after putting my book down and turning out the light, I noticed there were lightning bugs in my bedroom. One spent considerable time wooing the tiny bulb on the smoke detector.
These kind of momentous little events fascinate me.
All things one does while waiting for one's baby to decide to arrive. Overall I'm ready for this to get started. I've filled up mightily on the company and words of positive ladies this week and am ready to meet this little guy. The house is in a cozy condition, the weather is perfect, the hummingbirds are nonstop, and today is tim's last day of work for a long time.
The room where we store his things is all set. (How could I resist this?) (And for later ~ loving this idea.) My mom made the banner for the shower. Basket, knitted blankets and the handmade crewelwork tapestry are all thrifted. Tim refinished the floors and painted the walls.
The birthing pool is airing out nicely.
All the homebirth supplies are tip-top and ship-shape.
It was 100* here yesterday. The a/c that came with the house made some strange noises two nights ago and died on us, so I pursuaded tim to buy a new one yesterday and basked in the wonderfullness that is our bedroom all evening. Today rain is expected and much needed.
Banjo is very active as usual but also has long naptimes where he's quiet, just as he'll be on the outside. He listens when I sing and seemed to be listening quietly at the cookout we hosted on the solstice. Day by day is being enjoyed, as is every nap, every walk, every long afternoon reading a book cover to cover. This is a strange time. It doesn't feel last-minute or crushed, but there is a realization and appreciation in what is now.
Half a decade has passed; I can hardly believe it. So many trips, plans, adventures. So many laughs and fights and jokes. We fit even better now than we did then ~ I guess that's how it'll keep on going, smoothing each other out into two comfortable pieces of the same whole.
A belly full of writhing, poking baby. Yesterday was an afternoon of resting until my hips fell asleep, then an achey walk until I limbered up again. Following a day like that, I'm usually filled with vigor and energy, so I'm looking forward to today.
We've blown up the birth pool to air out the plastic smell (those turtles and sharks are remarkable!) and it moves from room to room as it gets in our way through various projects. I think things are just about as ready as they can be. Tim has really been a treasure.
There is a tiny room off of our bedroom which used to be one of the original bedrooms of the old farmhouse. I hung one entire wall with a fantastic huge antique quilt (satins, corduroys, cotton prints, silks, velvets...) and nestled near that is my great-aunt mary's old writing desk, tucked and filled now with my large collection of postcards, stationary and odd envelopes. It feels so settling to have a spot for writing again, for catching up with letters and jotting down thoughts.
Tim is painting one of the spare rooms white for when the baby eventually moves into it when he's a little older. The ceiling is low and the floors are the original 131-year old boards. It is a simple, long room with two windows and two doors. Lovely.
Our most delicious snack lately has been crisp toasted slices of buttered black beer bread from our local shop, so I'm going to have a try at making our own.
I'm a slow hiker these days. I just want to be at home, but the walking is so good for me, and it's good to get a change of thought and scene. I'm always glad I went. When we turned for home, I sped up like a horse going back to the stable.