ELEANOR ROSE McCARTNEY
Born August 16, 2020
In honor of Ellie's birth,
here is the account of her father's birth
WILLIAM BENEDICT McCARTNEY
Born June 2, 1990
CHILDBIRTH: ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS,
Read at your own risk: this narrative describes
labor and delivery in anatomically accurate detail.
NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART!
I woke up at 2:00 am on Saturday, 2 June 1990, and went to the bathroom as usual. I had already been up once int he night, probably about an hour earlier, even though we had only gone to bed at midnight. I had spent the previous afternoon / evening working on some dissertation footnotes, and Gerry had cut the grass when getting home form work. The day had been quite hot, and we were waiting for it to cool off a bit before going to visit Ted and Dot Cleveland. At 7:00 pm. we stopped working, had some tuna salad while watching Jeopardy, then set out on our errand of finding some new shoes for Ger. After shopping, we arrived at Ted and Dot's at 8:30 p.m. and spent two hours relaxing on their back patio, drinking lemonade, and chatting about church, Ann's wedding, and the Baby coming. Earlier, when Dot had commented on my dress (Katy's yellow one), I made the joke that maybe if I put on one of Katy Bunder's dresses and came over and sat on Dot's newly upholstered furniture then my water would break! Dot said, "Don't laugh!" Such a thing had happened to her 37 years before when her son Teddy was born -- she was attending her own Baby Shower and her water broke onto her friend's new carpeting! At one point, when I pressed my rib cage in on the left side, Dot got quite nervous and asked, "What's happening?!" We assured her that this was just my way of alleviating heartburn -- nothing more.
We got home at 10:50 p.m. and just idled around for an hour or so before going to sleep. When I got up to urinate the second time (at 2:00 a.m.) I waited for the usual feeling of being done -- which for the past few weeks had seemed more more dependent on the Baby's position than on my bladder control muscles. As I stood up, however, I felt warm liquid running between my legs and knew that it was not urine! I realized that the slight shifting sensation I had detected at the end of urinating must have been the water breaking. I felt very calm and simply took a towel from beneath the sink back to bed with me. I remembered reading in all the books to stay relaxed for as long as possible -- continue napping if it was nighttime or doing simple errands if it was daytime. I was not even going to wake Ger at this stage, except that when I got back to the bedroom he was just on the way to the bathroom himself; so I told him matter - of - factly that believed the water had broken. He was quite drowsy and, ascertaining that I was in no discomfort, was content to go back to sleep. I felt content, too, though curious to see what would be happening next. Somehow, I was not surprised that labor was beginning. Although our projected due dates were 10 June (ultra sound) and 19 June (lunar month), we had predicted for some time that the Baby would not be waiting that long, not to mention that for the past few days I had been feeling more and more ready -- in an abstract way. For the last month I had felt more cumbersome and exhausted each day, but this was a different feeling in addition to that -- a kind of certainty that things could not go on much longer as they were, that something had to give; and, of course, that something would be the Baby!
I slept lightly until 3:30 a.m. then woke again, took several of my favorite pre - natal books from the shelf, and went back to the bathroom to review what I should be looking for next. I had still felt no contractions or cramping of any kind; but I was now able to clearly see and feel the "bloody show." It was running out in about equal amounts with the water, and did not seem at like "mucus plug." Within the next hour I thoroughly soaked the first towel, a washcloth, and two more towels. As this was happening, I went up and down the stairs a few times, turned on a few lights, and puttered around with Marcus and Josef (the cats) for company. I looked through my Woman's Clinic Handbook for specific instructions about calling the doctor / hospital, but couldn't find any; and we had never discussed the last minute procedures with Dr. Downey. I didn't eat or drink anything (except a glass of water or two). I added a few things to my suitcase (a tub of Carmex, a pink T - shirt to wear home), gathered together a load of laundry, washed up the few "by hand" dishes sitting in the sink, had two bowel movements, continued leafing through my books, and finally decided to sit in the easy chair in the family room and listen to my Gamper Tapes. I knew the whole series would take about an hour and fifteen minutes and thought this would be good way to pass the time until dawn, contractions, and waking Ger.
Strangely enough, after about 15 minutes, I began to feel increasingly panicked -- instead of relaxed -- as my lower back began to ache against the chair. I tried sitting straight up in the chair, then opted for the floor; but I could not concentrate on the narrative at all -- let alone practice the breathing styles. Glancing at the TV clock (4:25 a.m.), I went into the bathroom (downstairs) and sat on the toilet for several minutes of intense pain and panic, while grabbing on to the side of the sink for support and moaning and groaning. I wondered if this would surely wake Ger, yet I wanted him to stay sleeping until I could understand what was happening. The relaxation tape was still running in the background and seemed a very disconcerting element as I grasped my own inability to follow any instructions for handling the pain better. I heard the tape click off just as the pain subsided and tried to pull myself together; I noticed that the TV clock now read 4:29 a.m., and I knew that I must remember that. I resumed my sitting position on the floor, rewound the tape to where I had left off, and finished (once again) listening to side one. I'm afraid I discontinued my project here, not going on to sides two, three & four.
Instead I climbed the stairs and felt more water / mucus oozing out (I had noticed this sensation of increased flow a few times during the hour -- particularly when going up or down the stairs. So I had associated it with that particular movement / posture, failing entirely to realize that those slight squeezes were the closest thing to early contractions that I was ever going to have). At the top of the stairs, I made the decision to have a shower rather than wake Ger. Once in the shower, since I felt fairly well, I went ahead to wash my hair and shave my legs -- partly out of vanity, I guess, and partly just to pass the time. I felt much better now, but not like restricting myself in my nightgown again (my giant T - shirt dress). Instead, I wrapped in a sheet from the linen closet, went into the guest room, and leaned against the window by my desk. Although a muggy, stormy day was on the way, at this time the breeze was gentle and balmy. I looked out at the bare beginning of dawn and thought, with absolute certainty, "This is going to be our Baby's birthday, June 2nd."
I was overwhelmed by the feeling that I had somehow known this for a million years but had just been waiting for the day to arrive in order to know it once again. I leaned against my desk chair and felt like the first one awake on Christmas -- or the feeling that always comes when I've been awake for just a few seconds on my own birthday -- today's my birthday! -- that moment of deep awareness that the story of your future was actually already written long ago. I had felt very little "intuition" of any kind throughout the pregnancy, such as whether I was carrying a boy or a girl; but at this point, I somehow knew for sure that this Baby was very near to being born. I had an unmistakable feeling that the birth was only a few hours away, that I was not in for a very long labor -- and it turned out that my "intuition" was right!
I knew it was time to wake Ger, even though I had not timed a single contraction. Nor had I experienced another shattering panic / agony attack like the one downstairs at 4:30. Instead, a permanent aching sensation was settling around my tummy, back, and thighs. It was 5:00 a.m. when I scrunched in pain on the foot of the bed and told Ger we should start doing something -- neither of us was sure what. We started by calling Home Hospital, who told us to call the Woman's Clinic. We went downstairs to check our instruction booklets, called the 24 - hour number, and were informed that Dr. Schnerre would return our call. I let Ger do all the talking, despite the instructions that said I should. Schnerre seemed unimpressed that I couldn't come up with anything better than "a lot of discomfort every 30 minutes or so"; but the fact that my water had broken was enough for her to tell us to come ahead. I also knew that the mucus plug and the bowel movements were serious signs, regardless of what else was or was not happening. Also, in a very untechnical way, I was just beginning to feel so bad that it made me afraid for us to wait any longer at home.
Back upstairs, Gerry got dressed while I got into the pajamas he had just taken off, tied on his red housecoat, and put on my stretched out tan flats. We got the bag, and on the way down I had Ger scoop up the laundry at the head of the stairs. It seemed rather hilarious at this point that I had been planning to throw it in the washer an hour earlier! I knew also that I had neglected to add our healthy snacks to the suitcase; but we were ready to head for the car. We went through the garage rather than the front door; so it seemed to us very private as we set out for the hospital. The sky was pink now, and it seemed the perfect time for something to begin. At the stoplight (Salisbury & Sagamore) we saw a waiting police car, a rather theatrical touch, even though at this point we did not need to speed! The sense of generalized pain was, however, definitely settling in and taking over more and more of my mind and body.
At the hospital, we pulled straight into the emergency entrance driveway, just as a nurse (or some other employee) was being dropped off for work by her family. I noticed a little one (up early!) waving to her from inside the car. I felt like a lost soul standing there on the sidewalk while Gerry went to park properly. I could have waited for Gerry or walked in on my own, but I was feeling more and more haggard and confused. I said to the woman getting out of the car, "My name is Kitti and I just called Dr. Schnerre about having my Baby." She brought me a wheelchair and took me in to the registration booth, where I had to tell the receptionist that my husband would be along in a minute with our pre - registration card -- which he was. As soon as he got there, another attendant (dressed in a kind of officer's uniform rather than a nursing outfit) wheeled me up to labor and delivery; she said she always liked bringing people to that wing because it smelled like popcorn! She said to pant if I felt like bearing down; all of these people kept asking me, "Are you having contractions? Are you having one now?" And I would always answer, "I don't know. I don't know." This was the honest truth. I only knew that I was having a Baby!
Once in my room, the nurse started in with the same question and told me to put my clothes, such as they were, into a big plastic bag and get into a hospital gown. I did this while sitting in the bathroom, then staggered out with the gown wrapped around me like a robe. I stood there lamely, alone in the room; then the nurse walked in and said, "That ties in back." I just stood there like a zombie and turned it around, feeling some resentment that such a thing could possibly matter at this stage of the game. I was hardly there to make a fashion statement, though I suppose that her concerns were only practical. Ger arrived in a matter of seconds, and my next job was to lie down on the bed and have the monitors attached to my tummy. I expressed some discomfort with the position but the nurse (Liz) assured us that it was necessary for 30 minutes. Then, when she believed that I was experiencing a contraction, she did a vaginal exam to verify that the waters had broken. I know I cried out when she did this and doubled up from the pain. She said, "They've broken all right, and you're about 1cm dilated." The last news was a bit depressing, as I had been 1cm since at least Wednesday, 30 May -- my most recent visit to Dr. Downey. In fact, he had told us then that I might not need my next week's appointment, but he would schedule it anyway for Thursday, 7 June. At this time, we also had to sign a few papers regarding hospital care, newspaper releases, etc. And I was also asked if I had considered an epidural (I answered "Not really") and if the Baby was to circumcised should it be a boy (we said "We don't think so").
It was approximately 6:00 a.m. when the nurse left us, and the next hour was probably my time of most intense clock - watching. For one thing, I was still wearing my glasses and could see the time, and I was counting the minutes until I could sit up again (and until Schnerre showed up to give us her opinion, or whatever it was we expected her to do). Ger helped pass the time by staying as fluffy (like the cats!) as possible, making little jokes about Marc & Jo, and trying to cheer me along. I recall being able to smile when he started reading from a baby name book that was lying there in the room; he said. "I bet we won't find 'Sappho' here" (the name we had chosen for a girl). I soon realized that I had forgotten to bring a hair barrette, so Ger asked the nurse if we could have a rubber band. I remember at one point requesting (from the nurse) to use the bathroom -- simply as a strategy for being allowed to get up (we accidentally turned on the TV when using the call button for her attention and then we couldn't get it turned off and had to ask her how). I didn't necessarily want to move around; but my back, pressed as it was into the bed, felt as if it were breaking right in two. It seemed that the pressure would crack the bed and I would crash right through onto the floor.
One thing running in and out of my mind was the "labor position" I had practiced (lying on my side with my lower arm turned beneath my back and my top leg resting on a pillow -- so that no one body part would be touch another); this had been quite comfortable for resting, but now the mere thought of rearranging myself so seemed out of the question. I also tried to breathe so that I was holding the abdominal wall above the uterus, as suggested on the Gamper tapes. This had worked well before for Braxton Hicks contractions and for stomach aches in general, but now it didn't seem to help much after all. Whenever Ger would ask me what I wanted / needed (Ice, water, bathroom, etc.), my only request was "I want to sit up." After about an hour of this (when neither nurse nor doctor had shown up as promised), Ger decided to take matters into his own hands: he helped me perch on the side of the bed and brought over a chair for me to use as a foot rest. This position was infinitely more bearable, though it shifted the monitors somewhat. The next time Liz came by, she re - adjusted them so that they were reading correctly and begrudgingly consented to let me continue sitting up. She said, as she had an hour earlier, that I just had to wear the monitors for a short time more and then we could take them off and I could go for a walk. I didn't bother to tell her that I felt fairly certain that walking around would be next to impossible. I think she believed that I was only whingeing and not really as far along in transitional labor as I really as. She still seemed in a rather bad mood with us, as she had from the moment of our arrival; she probably felt (or so we assumed) that we had come in to the hospital much too early, that our Baby wouldn't be born for ages, and that we were just wasting her time.
I didn't care much about the monitors and didn't look at them much (by this time I had my glasses off anyway and the numbers were a haze); but they were very helpful for Ger, enabling him to gauge what I was experiencing each time. He was very good to whisper to me how many seconds were passing, a tip we had learned in our classes. I could now sense that the pain came and went somewhat regularly (unlike earlier in the morning and all that time on my back when it had just seemed like one unending earthquake rather a series of "waves"). It never seemed to me that they lasted as long as 90 seconds, though; and I knew that at the end they should be that long. Ger told me later that they were indeed that long; it's just that I was tuning in only for the peaks and blocking out the "rising action." They were very intense, and I kept clinging on to Ger, whispering, "It's worse than I thought it would be." I can remember having two contractions in a row which ended with a distinct grapefruit sensation right at the spot where I was pressing my pelvis into the edge of the bed. Looking back, I can only assume that this was my "urge to bear down." After all, the Baby's head had been fully engaged for over a week.
At 7:30 a.m. the nurse came again to do a pelvic exam during a contraction; I was no more relaxed this time than before -- though I tried to be. This time, however, there was good news. The cervix was almost completely dilated. We heard her go into the hall and call loudly to someone, "She's seven!" She came right back and asked me if I had felt like pushing the last few times, and I answered "Maybe." She shifted me to a leaning up position against the back of the bed and showed me how to grab my knees with my hands while pressing my chin into my chest. Ger and I made some jokes with her about not having reached this lesson in our child birth classes yet. As soon as I was in the correct position, she said, "Let's see if we an get rid of that cervix?" So with one push, I sent from 7cm to complete effacement. She seemed ecstatic, though I couldn't detect any change. I did realize that stage one had passed quickly -- only 90 minutes, nothing like the 14, 18, or 24 hour labors we'd heard so much about.
The beginning of the second stage seemed as mysterious as the beginning of the first had been. I seemed to be missing all of the recognizable signposts. I must confess that I did not find it a "relief" to push, nor was it the "good, hard, satisfying" work that the books had described. It was hard, yes -- but also confusing. It did not seem like work (more like a disconcerting pain) nor did it seem satisfying since I was never able to gain a sense of accomplishing anything. Nor did I ever experience what I would call an urge to push or a bearing down sensation (maybe I would have if I had been able to remain more upright?). As it was, the contractions felt the same as before, except that now instead of hanging limply from the shoulders and leaning against Ger, I was propped at an angle and grasping my legs each time and pressing my chin into my chest. I did this last part so effectively that for the next few days I thought the glands behind my ears were swollen; finally it was determined that what I felt were sore muscles in my next and chest (Peter told us that Katy had actually had a "necklace - like" bruise across her neck from pressing down so hard. Funny that none of the child - birth books mentioned this side effect or the use of these particular muscles.
At this stage, Liz's assistant -- another nurse named Pam -- came in to help us. With the two of them plus Ger cheering me on, I began trying very hard, even though I had little sense of what I was accomplishing. When they would say, "Yes, yes," I would try even harder, straining until my lips trembled. What I felt rather than the urge to bear down was the urge to please them all; so, when I could register by their reaction that a push had not successfully moved the Baby, then I would try even harder the next time. They kept telling me that a little of the head was showing, but still I felt no different than before. In between the contractions, I felt an incredible longing to fall asleep. I could hear Ger and Liz conversing on a range of topics from high school sports to vacation spots in Ireland; it seemed odd to me that they could discuss such things, but I didn't mind -- as long as no one asked me to contribute my opinions! Some coffee was brought for Ger and some sterile hospital clothes for him to wear when it came time for delivery.
At 8:00 a.m., Dr. Bosley came by and introduced himself. He was wearing street cloths, and I assumed that he had just come in for the day shift (and to relieve Schnerre, whom we never did see). Of course, at some point, we had been informed that Dr. Downey wouldn't be in at all that day; but we knew that might be the case and were prepared to work with anyone from the ob / gyn group. I just kept pushing with all my might, following the nurses' orders to think of it as the biggest bowel movement I had ever had in my life, like pooping a watermelon. This instruction was very accurate; I had certainly lost all awareness of having a "birth canal" of any kind. It seems to me now that this is the feeling which the books should stress more than any other. But, in fact, it is mentioned only briefly in the sources I read; I know Gamper mentions the similarity just in passing, and one of the others says that some women are embarrassed to push down when having the baby because it feels like a bowel movement. Also, on thirty - something, this is mentioned by the doctor when Susannah has Emma. But no one or nowhere that I read stressed the centrality of this sensation. Anyway, I kept on trying. They told me when the hair was visible, and Ger made a joke about the Baby having about as much as he did. The expression of delight from Ger and the nurses made me feel that surely the forehead or the nose must be showing, But Ger said later that the crowning was never more that the size of a coin. He also said that during this phase my hands, feet, and entire pelvic area were purple from the effort while my face was completely white.
At 9:15 a.m. Bosley came back, wearing a hospital coat this time, and I heard him say to the nurses, "We'll give her 30 minutes." Things went on as before: Ger and Liz chatting, me drifting away between contractions and then waving my arms frantically whenever one began. Then they would come right over to help me hold my hands feet the "right" way and remind me to hold my breath instead of crying out, while they watched for Baby to appear. The instructions were simple enough; but, every time the pain would come, I would entirely forget what I was supposed to be doing. My only urge was to cry out. I remember a couple of times when I felt the pressure building slightly but never really kicking in, so I took the opportunity to rest on those occasions instead of summoning their attention to help me push.
Sure enough, Bosley returned at precisely 9:45 a.m. and said to me, "We're going to help you have this baby in 5 or 10 minutes." I knew this meant that he was gearing up for an episiotomy, and I guess Ger knew this too. I had hoped not to need one or to avoid having one; but after two hours of pushing, I was ready to wave the white flag. So much for the stories about the second stage of labor being shorter / easier than the first! One of our books (the one from the hospital) had given 5 - 90 minutes as the length of time for the pushing stage while another (Bradley) suggests anywhere from 1 - 5 hours. Maybe after two more hours I could have pushed the Baby through on my own; but, on the other hand, what if I had tried for two or three more hours and still needed the episiotomy? That would have been really depressing. As it turned out, I will always be able to remember that my labor / delivery was fast, no matter how hard it seemed at the time. Still, right up to the second that Bosley began the procedure, I kept trying to push hard enough to surprise everyone and have the surgery called off. Once it began, however, I did not feel a thing except for the two shots on the inside and the two on the outside; otherwise, I was completely unaware of the cut being made and the forceps going in. Ger said that this part was impossible for him to watch. Though I was still sitting up, the nurses changed the bed to a table so that I had footrests and hand grips. I was now supposed to use these for the pushes, and I got very confused trying to do everything in the right direction, especially since I'd only just gotten the knack of pulling my legs up to my chest and pressing my chin down, etc. Ger and the nurse had to keep reminding me not to waste my breath screaming, and the nurse kept saying, "Listen to what the doctor is saying."
The next thing I knew, after trying to push and follow his directions, the Baby's head was emerging and I was exclaiming in joy and surprise. I could not see anything (a mirror was provided, but my glasses were off, and even had I worn them they would have been entirely steamed up), but I could feel the roundness of the head (I guess I was also feeling the forceps on either side, but I had no sense of this). The doctor said, "Clamps, please, and I saw the red blood spatter on his coat. My mind was racing to figure out why he was cutting the cord so soon; obviously it had not yet stopped pulsating. Then he asked me to push again, and only then did I realize that only the head had emerged. Ger explained later that the cord was cut then because it was around Baby's neck. I was stunned to realize that I had not yet given birth; I felt surely an entire baby had come out of me! And what about the books which said that the body would just "slip" out following the head? As I strained and screamed, I cried out, "This is killing me!" Bosley very matter - of - factly replied, "This is not killing you." Now that it's over, Ger and I will always remember this comment with humor! I tried with all my might and was rewarded when Bosly said, "Here's your little boy!" and held him him up so that we could see; it was 10:02 a.m. Ger was standing at my right side, and we looked at each other in perfect happiness and amazement. Little Ben was here!
With his cord already cut, Ben had to go straight to the nurses instead of onto my tummy. Bosley said, "What do you think he weighs?" And I answered, "Twenty - five pounds!" His guess was 7 lbs, 6 oz; and added, "That scale must be broken," when Ben weighed in at 7 lbs, 7 oz (21 1/2" long). Next came the placenta, but I didn't get to see it (Ger did); I had been given a shot of pitocin to expedite its separation. I remembered getting a shot in the arm at the same time as the novocaine shots, but I did not know what drug it was or why I was getting it (later I asked the nurse and she told me that that it was pitocin for removing the placenta; I don't know if they give it routinely or if they did it in my case because of the cord having to be cut too early). My stitches were done quickly (I've heard that in many cases they can take longer than the delivery itself), though Bosley had to keep reprimanding me about moving and threatening to give me more shots if I could not be still for a few more moments.
At this point, since the nurses seemed to be passing Ben all around the room, I said, "Maybe I could have my glasses now"; only then did anyone besides Ger realize that I had not been able to see clearly for the past few hours. Finally I had an unclouded view of my new Baby! The nurses brought Ben to us in a matter of minutes, all wrapped up. Despite the fact that it had technically been a "difficult delivery," he looked absolutely beautiful. As I held him, the absurd fear that I had harbored all winter long -- of accidentally dropping him down our steep stairs -- dissolved completely. Somehow, the back of my mind knew all about holding him, and my first coherent thought was, "I will never drop this baby." From 10:30 a.m. until noon, Ben, Ger, and I were allowed to be alone together in our labor / delivery room. We were all tired and peaceful. Ben was awake, very quiet and apparently content. Ger and I were relieved and overwhelmed by the reality of our child.
At noon, Ger left to make the long - distance calls and the nurse came for Ben -- to do his nursery check - up. I was left alone to take a four - hour nap and given some Tylenol III (this codeine was the ony painkiller I received except the the episiotomy shots and the one pitocin shot; all in all, I feel content that the hospital's approach was very non - intrusive, even though I would have preferred to go without the episiotomy and even though I doubt the necessity of the pitocin for delivering the placenta). As I drifted in and out of sleep, I could see the scale blinking at 7lbs, 7 oz. These numbers were like a metaphor for Ben, assuring me of his existence; and it was if his little spirit were still hovering around the room there, keeping me company until we could be reunited. When I was wheeled to our post - partum room at 4:00 p.m., I felt very lonely, as if I were rattling around inside an empty cave, wondering where Ger was, wondering where Ben was.
When our friend and priest, Nancy Tiederman came in a few minutes later, I told her, "I did it Nancy, I walked on the moon!" And I felt the tears come into my eyes for the first time all day. It was as if I needed to say it out loud in order to believe that I had really had the Baby after all the months of waiting. While Nancy was still there, Ben was brought in to me -- living proof that he had been born! Right after Nancy left, Ger arrived, and we were all three together once again. For the next 48 hours, this unfamiliar room (which did its best, with a double bed, private bath, and flowered wall border) was our first "home" together. I will always remember those next days like a dream -- Ben being wheeled in and out at odd hours. Ger running errands to and fro, me falling in and out of sleep, visitors coming and going to admire Ben and congratulate us, nurses and doctors appearing from time to time to check on us and give advice. In a post - partum way, I was sad as we packed up on Monday evening, June 4th, at 8:00 p.m. the initial phase of our new life was over already! However, I soon regained the sense of something beginning as we headed home in the dusk -- appropriately enough, since we had arrived at dawn! A cycle was complete. The sun had risen and set on one mythic day. Ben's Birth Day.
~ composed June 6, 8, 9, 1990
P.S. June 27, 1990: I remember months ago, Dr. Downey saying, "I'd like to see this baby born by June 26th (this was when we were discussing how long we could go before he would consider inducing). How hard it is now to believe that Ben could have been born only yesterday! One of the strangest feelings I had after getting home from the hospital was driving up to the house and seeing my car parked there with the sunscreen in the windshield. I could remember having put it there Friday afternoon (June 1st) when I got home from work; how odd it was to think that since that last time I had driven the car, I had had the Baby! I had the same sensation once inside the house when looking into the refrigerator. There was the food I had bought at the grocery store on Thursday, May 31st. How could it still be there in the refrigerator? It seemed like a million years had passed -- not just three or four days. For me, time had been divided over the weekend into Before Ben and After Ben. All of the reminders that life had gone on as usual in so many small, ordinary ways during the intervening days stuck me as quite disconcerting. It really heightened my sensation of having been away on another planet, of having walked in space!
Next Fortnightly Post ~ Another Childbirth Story!
Monday, September 14th
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