Friday, July 6, 2001: Sharon goes to the doctor. Only one cm. dilated, and not much effacement. Then, a lifeline, for her anyway. It seems there’s this new gel. They’ll apply it tomorrow at 3 and 9, then next morning there should be a baby. Caitlin and Drew were there with us. Our response is matter-of-factly cheerful. It suddenly strikes me though. I'm not sure I've sufficiently prepared myself for this child! I’d better get started here.
Ready or not, the baby’s coming, and we know
it. All there is to do is wait.
Saturday,
July 7: We drive to Payson to get that stuff
applied. We got back at 5. We prepare, we anticipate. We shoot a bit more footage for our family scripture movie. Matty compromises our carefully planned “she’s in
labour” aside from Drew by running utterly naked through the back of the shot.
We go back to Payson at 9:30 to have some more of that gel applied. Apparently some women don’t
make it out of the hospital after this procedure. Sharon isn’t one of those women.
Sunday,
July 8: We slept, me comfortably, Sharon
intermittently, and quietly. At 5 AM we get
up and get ready. We’re not quite going
through the motions, but things are pretty business-like, given that an actual
baby is coming. Connie Warren comes
over, and we drive down to the hospital. Clean, clear, countryside. Mozart, piano # 17. At 6:30 we’re
admitted, at 7:00 we’re hooked up, measured at two
cm. (is that all?), and slowly moving on our way.
This day turns out to be like some avant garde film or play or story; short the narrative conventions, you’re not sure how or when it’s going to
end. So everything was attended by an
is-it-now? suspense that looks faintly silly in retrospect. At 7:30 I rush back to get the girls. They’re not ready. Hurry I think (but don’t say). No telling what we might miss!
Well, not much, as it turns out. We leave the boys with Connie. “I love you, Matt,” says Sarah. “I’m upset!” says Matt. We get back to the hospital at 9. Mum looks somehow, oh, exactly the same. At 9:30 Dr. Nance comes, pre-his church, to see how things are. “See you after church,” he says
So we settle in for the long
occupation. We play Battleship, Hi-Q, string games. We read,
fitfully. This is taking a long time, but these
contractions are also coming quick. They're two, two-and-a-half minutes apart, and we see Sharon, if
we look over, setting her teeth and going through it. The rest of us go for a Payson drive, come back to about the
same.
Still, this is progress. In fact, at 1:15 the doctor returns to
break that water. The kids, who’ve been
noticing the passage of time, are suddenly, briefly wide-eyed and silent. They might not have been sure they wanted to
see that. Just wait, girls.
Sharon’s pain increases. The rest of us go to the cafeteria. Then more games, and Drew and Sarah start
visiting the lounge and looking into the nursery. Caitlin mostly sticks it out. At 3:00 Sharon gets a shot of Nubane, and
feels blissful for awhile. These good
girls are feeling a bit restless. At 3:30 I go home to get them some food, and to check on the boys. I’m
back at 4:30 to find that we’re at six cm., and that things seem to be
moving along now. The girls eat, and we enjoy an old
(’91) home movie I’ve brought.
At 5:00 the __ stop by. That was awkward! The pain is getting bad, and in fact, at this point, proves to be positively breathtaking. Sharon, the trooper calls for an epidural—too late! “I’m too old… I can’t do it…” She does it.
Doctor Nance returns at 5:30, the stirrups
go up and we come to the moment, or to the moments. The everlasting pattern repeats. One push, and a crown. The girls are standing on the couch, stunned,
shrinking a little bit. I pan quickly
across them with my eyes and see Sarah at the end, moved to tears. I feel a stab myself—looking at them, I’m
seeing this for the first time again.
After I rush to Sarah and turn around we
all see a second push and a whole squinty, pugilist’s head. A third push and our new baby sister comes
into the world. What I’d hoped for! Ah.
The doctor cuts the chord and gets a spurt
of blood in the face. It hits the
ceiling. We all enjoy that. Except him. Now all the matter of fact scurrying and cleaning begins, which doesn't quite mask the
fiercely biological nature of the whole transaction, or the awesome spiritual immanence
of it all. 5:44 PM, 20”, 8 lbs and 9
ozzes. Claire Duncan!
She didn’t cry, and they can’t quite make
her. Sharon takes her. Sharon looks fresh
and delighted. Heroic! The girls get just a bit clamoury. I had been ten hours for them, and twelve for
Sharon! This is the longest ever—she
paid in hard hours for those few days she gained.
Caitlin calls Spence. “Oh! I
wanted a baby sister!” Matt talks about
Donald Duck. The baby goes to the
nursery, Mum (not cut, and just slightly torn) prepares to go to her room, and
we walk out onto the rain-shiny street and drive home. The girls are cheerful and kindly—this is a very good thing for us to have done. Grandma
Anderson calls. I call Mum and Dad. I want to go back to the hospital! I need to stay back though, with the kids. I do so.
Connie gives a report. At church Matt lost track of himself and went
up the aisle, asking “have you seen my brother, Spencer Duncan?” The Randalls, and Bill Mackenzie come over
for a long chat. When they leave Spence says, “Russell and Brock, hopefully you can come over tomorrow and
see our new baby sister.”
I call Susan and Sharon. Susan, who loves babies, and has loved it when we have babies, talks for a long
time. I don’t get back to the hospital until
10:30. Sharon wakes up. We talk briefly. I sit on the other bed, and drop off. At midnight I wake up, say goodnight and go
blearily, happily home.
Monday,
July 9: After some morning scrambling, we all go back
to the hospital. Everyone is happy, and
anxious to hold this quiet, mostly sleeping and otherwise so seemingly grave
baby. I hold her too, looking deeply
down, speculating and extrapolating. A
sweet child. Spence and Matt operate on
Caitlin, who is dead, but who still has a baby they must extract.
We get a nice dinner from the
Haymonds. Caitlin is impressed by the Relief Society organizations. Confident
in leaving everyone, I go back to Payson for a nice long visit. We look at that baby, chat, play
Yahtzee. Familiar things, in the face of this enormous new thing. Or, the other way around. Either way, good!
Tuesday,
July 10: Up and cleaning. The kids do a nice job. I drop #s 3-5 at Laurel Lopez’s and go back to
Payson (in the end it was eighteen back and forths!) to pick up the girls. I get my free hospital meal, and then we cool
our heels until one o’clock before the pediatrician comes, again, to re-okay
the baby by saying the exact thing he said yesterday. We pass the time by condemning institutional
uncommunication and arrogance. (When
Sharon told him she wanted to leave at 9, why didn’t he say he wouldn’t be
there until noon?)
Once back, the kids clamour around stupendously. Most of them want to help and hold. Matt feels differently. “Mum—get that baby off!” All the while Claire is just extremely
quiet. Matt and I go to the playground
and the library and have a nice time. The Waddoups bring dinner, and I go to bishopric meeting. I get back to find the kids sort of fighting
over this snoozing infant. But sort of
not. This is all good.
I call the Richardsons. John says, sarcastically—“Oh, I suppose I
should ask some questions.”
Wednesday,
July 11: Sharon is worried about Claire, who is refusing to wake up…. She gets her
first bath, and cries tinily. Her eyes
open very wide, and she starts to look very around. Everyone remains extremely interested.
Drew bikes to the pool, and Caitlin to her
soccer camp. There may be occasional
objections, for old time’s sake, but I’m noticing with pleasure that these two
are gainfully busy and increasingly self reliant. They get ready, and they get out, and they
get things done.
Dinner from the Randalls, cake from the
Cotters. Drew plays the dullest
double-header in the history of sport. The cool evening, however, is very refreshing. I notice that Drew is enjoying herself. She interacts cheerfully, quietly,
confidently with her mates (Sydney particularly). I’m very gratified as she comes over
intermittently to chat, to tell me what’ happening, to point out the striking
colour of the sky, to say hello. I look
at her (out of focus) team picture and see suddenly, staring back at me, a very
lovely, very growing up girl. Boring
ball games give you time to reflect.
One of Drew’s opponents, who seems to be preparing
to run for office, beamed at me as she walked by. “Tell Drew she played a really great
game!” That would be two
four-balls-in-four-pitches walks, and two fielding positions with the ball
never coming close to her.
Thursday,
July 12: Worried no more—now Claire refuses to
sleep! It’s the old round of extortion:
precarious rest when you hold her, alarms when you put her down. Sharon eventually succeeds in giving her a good feeding, sticks her
in her chair, and she lasts the night. Sharon figures that she was just sedated.
We go to see Jerry Spinelli
at the Read Leaf. He talks for forty-five minutes, and it’s very interesting. I wasn’t sure about Sarah, who had that
distracted look. But based on how
enthusiastically, and how detailedly they pass Spinelli’s stories on
afterwards, they must have been listening, and happily. The autograph doesn’t quite come off. Drew grumbles, amused and amusingly. “To Duncan,” he wrote.
I pick up Matt at the Lopez’s. Laurel wants him to come more. “You know how some kids are just fun?” He and Amanda have apparently pledged their
love, but I’m wondering if the exchange wasn’t engineered just a little
bit.
Friday,
June 13: Matt paces up and down in front of the
road in his tutu. Spencer is happy to
have both his parents watch him at his swimming lesson. The hesitant boy becomes less so, not only
bobbing, but dunking and turning around as he does so, paddling on his back all
by himself, smiling a lot, donning a life jacket and going from front to back,
back to front. One might add that those
jumps off the side are still pretty extremely tentative. But one wouldn’t need to.
Evening: barbecue, Really Rosie, the
parrot sketch, Brian Wilson, cool winds, falling asleep with Spence on the
hammock.
Saturday,
July 14: Sharon and the girls go to a swim
meet. Matt walks over and into Connie’s
house, wearing his dress. The Randalls
invite us for a barbecue. Clouds roll in, dark and
cold. Scary stories (Grimm and Poe) are
requested. That’s the problem with the
one room schoolhouse. Either you reduce
and soften everything for general consumption, or you scare your five year old out of his wits.
Sunday,
July 15: Robbie Warren tells his mother a
story. “I was asleep and then someone
started ringing the doorbell. It rang
over and over, but by the time I got to the door there was no one there. Then I looked over to the street, and I saw a
little boy walking away. He was wearing
a dress.” Connie: “I know who that
was.”
...
Thursday, July 19: Claire looks at us and stays looking at us, in a way that she really hasn't done before. Then she does it
again. We hold her, for a long, long time.
