Welcome to the Spinning Earth, Zora Peach

Peach. Zora. Zora Peach.

You are sleeping. I should be too. But there's so much I'd like to say to you to before it slips away into the corners of my fuzzy spaced out tired out brain.

We made it. You made it out. I made it through labor, whole. Exhausted and whole. You made it too, perhaps also exhausted. I will forever wonder what that labor adventure was like for you. 

Zora Peach, you have a beautiful birth story. 

Papa and I have talked a lot about how you were born. I believe we have established that it was an adventure. It was somehow just what we needed. It is a beautiful story. Not traumatic and not a disaster. We could name it those things. But we won't name it those things. It was long. And it was hard. And it was even pretty scary in the final moments. But we all stuck together very well, supported each other, loved each other, and here we are beginning our lives together as a family. I am so grateful. 

For much of labor, we were just IN it. It was interesting. It was hard. It was labor. We didn't know where we were going, but we knew we were in labor. 

We had wonderful help, Peach. Sutay and Lisa and Sarah were amazing guides. And Papa Mark was extraordinary. After the fact, Lisa said that Mark should open his own doula practice. 

After three days of contractions, I was exhausted. Just spent. I bet you were too. I bet it was pretty strange to have lived in my uterus fairly stress-free for so many weeks and then to suddenly be squeezed really really hard every few minutes. Not to mention the sounds your Mama made when those contractions were happening. THOSE were sounds you hadn't been listening to for the previous months! And then, after hours and hours, my heart rate was staying much too high. And then, yours dropped. And babies have a pretty narrow ability to withstand such a thing. Suddenly the nurses were changing my position---get on your left side! I couldn't really move because by then I'd been numbed from the waist down. Your heart rate didn't come up. Get on your right side! They flipped me again. Your heart rate didn't come up. Get on all fours! Several nurses got me on all fours. Your heart rate didn't come up. Then I don't remember what they said, but it felt frightening. I heard the word "crash". I heard something about getting to the OR. We were unplugged from the labor room hook-ups, fast. We were wheeled down the hall, fast. 

That moment is very clear to me. I thought of your Papa and the accident he was in almost four years ago. He says that when he looked down and saw his broken leg, in that crucial moment, he said to himself, "My life has changed and I need to stay present." There we were, Peach. I said to myself, "I need to stay present. We can do this, Peach. Stick with me." As we were wheeled into the OR, I heard several times "splash and crash, splash and crash!" There was the possibility of losing you, Peach. I learned later that "crash" referred to your heart rate and "splash" referred to the fact that they were not going to fully prep me for surgery---they were just going to splash betadine all over my abdomen to just do surgery as quickly as possible. Splash and crash. That didn't sound good to me. I kept talking to you. Stick with me, Peach. You can do this. We can do this. Stick with me. I am here. I am not afraid. I am here with you. I am not afraid. Stick with me. The anaestesiologist, the one medical person who stayed connected to me as a person during this emergency surgery, said to me, "That's exactly what you need to be doing. Keep doing it." I did. I asked her to hold my shoulders down-----they were shaking uncontrollably. She did this for me. I kept talking to you as they lifted you out of me. I heard something about "floppy". I heard something about respiratory distress. They brought you to my side--for about 3 seconds. They said something about there being a problem with your palate, maybe your chin---in my opinion this was a poorly timed piece of information-sharing. They whisked you away. I asked where Mark was----could he go meet you? Where was Mark??? Had they let him in to the OR to see this? Someone told me he could go meet you. Relief. I was in the OR for quite a while longer. I had to stay to have X-ray verification that they hadn't left any medical tools inside me---they hadn't had time to count the tools before surgery because of the speediness of the splash and crash. When they verified that I had no scissors or sponges sewed up inside me, I was taken to a recovery room to meet you and Papa. I discovered that Papa had greeted you with song and that it had stopped your crying immediately. You shall come out with joy. And you did. Just not exactly the way I had envisioned. You were lifted out instead of pushed out, Peach. Lifted out with love. And with song. And with joy. 

Now, from what I know about trauma, the people most likely to suffer with symptoms afterward are those people who, for various reasons, are not able to do anything effective in the moment of stress/overwhelm/stress---for example someone who is held down while being robbed. Being held down prevents any possibility for being effective on your own behalf. I believe that Papa Mark had no post-traumatic stress symptoms after almost losing his leg because he was able to be effective even in the face of extreme circumstances. He had his cousin help him get in a good position to wait for the rescue team. He talked to the rescue team. He asked for less medication so that he could be present and do deep breathing. And we can name your birth beautiful, Zora Peach. I talked to you. I asked for your teamwork. I asked the anaesthesiologist for her help. I asked that they let Mark see you. And he sang to you about coming out with joy, a song you already knew. And about welcome to the spinning earth.....

Welcome to the spinning earth.
Welcome.
Welcome to the green green earth.
Welcome.

Welcome to the spinning earth. 

Welcome.

Welcome to the green green earth. 

Welcome.

Zora. Zoraland. We've been living in Zoraland for over a month now! Welcome to the green green earth, little Z. We love you. It's been an exhausting month---more on that later. Welcome to the spinning earth.