let me count the ways.
i have been putting off blogging my birth photos. exactly. the words “birth” and “photos” don’t exactly go together. it makes you ill, doesn’t it? although you’re probably more concerned as to why my doula is outfitted in oilcloth and sailor stripes….
what the heck is a doula anyways? (everybody always wants to know.) well, doulas are for doing all the things your husband is supposed to, if he wasn’t busy reading church history (really? more interesting?) or napping. but they only wear sexy sailor costumes if you happen to go into labor on halloween. an unforeseen extra.
which actually turned out quite handy since i ended up wandering the streets of boise in my housecoat, masquerading as a drunk pregnant woman, at 9 o’clock at night. you know, held up between a sexy sailor and a scruffy redhead. every 30 seconds you would find me doubled up on the sidewalk or hanging over a planter. but that’s okay, cuz i blended right in with the territory. no one would have known i was an actual pregnant woman, in active labor, on a downtown stroll. no, that woman, she’s obviously waaaaaasted.
when i got back to the center i was at a 5 so they let me in the tub. they estimated my labor to be around 5 hours, but i’m not sure how they do the math. i do it by how miserable i am. walking around town for and hour was pretty miserable, but so are lots of things. the tub was quite nice for an hour, and then not so nice for an hour. i was in and out and generally thinking this was the dumbest thing i had ever done. to me, that’s the hour that counts. (pushing was clocked at 1 minute and 1 second, so that doesn’t count. sorry.)
my husband kept on coming home from work that week asking if i could have the baby so he could go on vacation. which seemed a bit delusional to me, but i guess “labor” means different things to different people. for instance….
right. make violet do all the dirty work.
but that’s okay, you can see he rallied when i gave him the distinct impression i was going to die. cue the hour i saved you 10 grand old man.
and right, it’s just not pretty.
but you get this slimy little kid at the end. that’s supposed to make you feel better.
they do grow on you.
one of my friends is pregnant with her first and also thinking pursuing “birth photography.” (i know, some people are insane.) but that’s why we have all these fun photos. i would have never taken any of them. if we were lucky we would have remembered to get a picture of her with the phone for grandma. and no one would have been there with the presence of mind to capture this.
or this. which i find more in keeping with the “moment.”
and here’s my favorite “i love you anyways” shot. i think there are quite a few similarities between a mother’s love and rihanna’s. some people never learn.
but they’re just so cute!
judith and her daddy. say hello to the man who will be buying your braces someday, sweetheart. (i know, he has no idea.)
the photographer insists that i made boy run get sushi before he even held the baby, but i’ll let the photo chronology suggest otherwise….
and see if i ever have a baby in the middle of the night again. where can you get sushi at midnight? besides winco. and that’s hardly the same thing.
then at 2 o’clock in the morning we bundled her up, threw her in the car, and brought her home. that was my favorite thing about the birth center versus the hospital. no paperwork, no people, no shifts, no rules, no nurses, no iv’s, no overnight stay. on the other hand, i don’t need to tell you what i didn’t like. because i believe i already showed you those pictures. …gah.