Drafting His Story

I hear Snippet's birth story in my head.

For the past several days, I find that I'm unconsciously narrating it to myself, all day long. Today's versions went like this:

"I decided to give the walking remedy a try, so I leashed up Puppy (who actually just turned one this week, so she's technically a Big Girl now) and off we went to the trail that runs near my house. It was a beautiful, cool, perfectly sunny day. Puppy and I headed out, and walked a full two miles. I would love to say they were a relaxing two miles, but they were frought with pain the entire way, pain that emanated from my pelvis with each step I took. I practiced my Bradley breathing techniques: long, slow breaths that filled my entire body, breathing back out into the trees, the woods, the sky. Deep breaths, absorbing the beauty of the trail, the distraction of the squirrels and keeping Puppy in line---all these helped to ebb the pain out and away from my body. It was a searing pelvic pain, felt with each step, almost as though there were some little human head lodged down in there......and then suddenly....(insert quirky sensation that leads to a labor epiphany and the birth of Snippet, not on the trail, of course...)"

Or, version two:

"I had just returned from a long walk with Puppy and decided to lay on the couch for awhile before tackling another labor-inducing project. I rested with the doggies for about a half-hour, drank a big glass of water and decided to get moving again. The sharp, stabbing pelvic pain I felt upon standing again was enough to elicit a loud, ugly swear word from my nearly-maternal mouth. The horrific sensation of gravity pressing on my pubic bone, pulling the entire weight of my hips, belly and baby down upon my pelvis is the sort of thing that no one ever mentioned at the doctor's office. I only discovered I wasn't a pregnancy freak by reading about this pain on October Babies chatboards where upon it was affectionately called, "searing crotch pain." Oh, yes, it sears. I hobbled my way outside and spent the next hour sweeping leaves from the back terrace and deck. It was slow going, and involved lots of the kind of movements that seemed especially conducive to kick-starting labor: bending, stretching, walking, sweating, slapping mosquitos, etc. I breathed through the pelvic pain until all the leaves were bagged and stashed with the trash........and then suddenly....(insert quirky sensation that leads to a labor epiphany and the birth of Snippet, not in my back yard, of course)"

I spend each day now wondering if *this* will be the day that forever changes everything. I can't help but take mental notes of all the details so I have them stashed, ready to recount to Snippet one day when he is a big boy and asks me, "What was it like the day I was born?" I want to be able to tell him with clarity, "It was a beautiful, cool, perfectly sunny day the day you were born." I want to remember all of it to give him the richest account, the sweetest recollection, so that he knows just how important that day was to me. Since I'm living in the worst sort of flux I can imagine, I offset the anxiety by meditating on the condition of the day, the way the world looks, the things I did, the way I felt, logging it all for him, in what I hope will be one of the best stories I've ever told.