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12-09-07

I slept terribly last night. Dreamt that my friend’s little girl fell in the water and we rushed to frantically yank her out from the muddy bottom. It was too unbearable to see if she was alive and I woke up agitated right as we reached her. I hope that Jodi and I are rescued from drowning in our own fears. This pregnancy is consuming me like a mutant flesh eating virus. Like battery acid poured down my throat. Its not supposed to be this difficult or complicated and I’m angry and disgusted that each new day is but another agonizing waiting game. To add insult to injury I now have a cold and sore throat. And Jodi has intense pain in her pelvis. She’s at her wits end. And I’m having to buck up and be the strong one. The pit crew. The backstop. Fuck this! 

We rented a wheelchair. The doctors suggested it so Jodi would not have to make the long trek down the dock and back for medical appointments. We ventured out for the first time on Thanksgiving to some Mill Valley friends where we were grateful to be taken in as orphans. We hoped to skate out under the radar and see no one on the dock as we exited.

“Hold on, this ride is about to begin,” I exclaimed.

The wheelchair had a surpisingly smooth action and sped along with little effort. I began to run Jodi down the dock at a brisk clip and hopped onto the back like a toboggan. It was fun.

 

“Honey, are you crazy. Slow down!” 

 

As a matter of fact I was crazy and I could tell she was having a bit of fun for a change too. Unfortunately, up ahead a cluster of our neighbors were chatting in the middle of the dock and I slowed down as I saw the alarm register on their faces. They must have deduced she was in labor. Why else would I be running my very pregnant wheelchair bound wife down the dock at mach speed?

 

“We’re just on our way to Thanksgiving. She’s fine,” I said as we cruised past, totally uninterested in explaining further. Just our luck, more neighbors were out ahead. It seemed that the whole friggin dock decided to come out at 2pm for some reason. 

“She’s fine. We’re late for Thanksgiving,” I offered curtly as we breezed past.

Jodi spent Thanksgiving on the couch of our friends’ lovely home being served and catered to by everyone. She enjoyed all the trimmings and we had a lovely afternoon. In fact, we have much to be thankful for.

One of the things I am thankful for is Sarah McMoyler. Before we decided to have a child, all I really knew about actual childbirth was from TV: someone was to boil some water for some unknown reason…and then the mother pushes really hard with a really red face…and then a gooey baby emerges which is handed to the mother who cries when she sees it…cut to commercial break. So it was with welcome relief that I approached the McMoyler Method pregnancy classes. Being in a room with 36 pregnant ladies alone makes the class worth it. The energy is sweet, primitive and timeless. Mammals all coping to reproduce themselves. Jodi was one of three women on bedrest given special “nests” on the floor that allowed them to lay back with their legs out and knees supported. I sat in a chair to her right looking down at her. Funnily, when she first looked up at me from her nest that morning her eyes struck me. So beautiful. I look at those eyes every day, but for some odd reason on this random Saturday morning, those hazel almond eyes were arrestingly gorgeous. Doe eyes. 

Sarah McMoyler is a veteran labor nurse and she broke it all down for us over two weekend days: from the weeks leading up to labor, to the water breaking and straight on through to the other side. Her philosophy is the woman carries the child and gives birth and the man does everything else, which I must admit sounds about fair (actually, the man gets off way easy). A couple with a three week old brought the baby in and gave her a bath right before us. It really hit home to hear them say that less than one month earlier they were standing where we were now, clueless about what it all was going to look like. And now they’re doing what everybody else through all eternity has done. And handling the infant like pros. I’m now much more relaxed about how it goes down, where to go, who to call, what to pack, what to say, how to breathe. If the gun went off right now we’d be ready to race. 

“Everybody’s Gotta Learn Sometime,” is our song. It always makes both of us cry because it artfully wraps our challenges and successes in Beck’s velvety baritone. We danced to it at our wedding and an hour ago we sat on the couch misty eyed when it came on the radio. Its message is more relevant now than ever. We’ve been schooled by two years of emotional and physical hell and now we’ve gone to birthing class. All that’s left is the final exam. Our time to learn, albeit later than we chose, is almost here.

 

Change your heart

Look around you

Change your heart

It will astound you

I need your loving like the sunshine

And everybody’s gotta learn sometime

Everybody’s gotta learn sometime

Everybody’s gotta learn sometime

 

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