Morning Musings
Have you ever spent much time considering the phrase "crack of dawn"? Probably not, but you will now. I was doing that very thing a couple of days ago. As I tried to, in a quite vampire-like fashion, hide from the piercing light streaming through every tiny gap around the blackout drapes, my mind began warming up to run its daily marathon. At that point, it's pointless to try to go back to sleep. Especially with Perrin AKA Chatty Cathy bouncing on my bed and starting his perpetual asking of questions. He's lucky he's so cute.
So. The crack of dawn. I challenge you to think of a positive use for that word. Think about it. Cracking a mirror brings you seven years bad luck (or maybe just three and a half if it's not completely broken), a cracked windshield is something you can be written up for, plumbers' crack, smoking crack, crack the whip, saying someone is cracked, step on a crack break your mother's back... Need I go on? I don't think this is coincidence. In fact, I think it's surely intentional. A fitting phrase coined by someone who, like me, was NOT a morning person.
I found this on a website called Romance Reader at Heart.
At the Crack of Dawn: of course we all know this means early. Another American term in origin, the crack was from the German word, Krach, which means a loud noise. Loud noises are usually sudden, and so the Crack of Dawn in the saying refers to the sudden appearance of the sun when its rays first reach out in the horizon of the east. It's first appearance in print is thought to be in Outing in 1887.
Sudden loud noises at dawn sound pleasant, huh? Of course, the sudden part was what we are meant to understand. Either way, I don't care for anything sudden in the morning unless it's more sleep. Fat chance of that! Once Perrin is awake, he sees to it that everyone else is awake too. I can hear Abby yell at him to go away when he tries to get her up. She's not a morning person, either, but he's persistent. Unfortunately for him though, Abby doesn't find him as cute as I do. She is not above resorting to physical violence if she really wants to go back to sleep. From there, it all spirals downward with astonishing speed.
Now, whenever you wake up bright and early, you, too, can sit in bed and wonder about the crack of dawn. Then, if you're lucky, you can roll over, pull the covers over your head, and go back to sleep. Sleep a couple of hours for me while you're at it.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Saturday, February 06, 2010
Time Flies
Four years ago, I had one of the most interesting and exciting days of my life. I got up before the sun to head to the local hospital for a labor induction. My body was feeling the strain of lugging around another human being inside of it for months and I was more than ready to meet the sweet little boy that kept trying to push his tiny foot through the skin of my belly. Don't get me wrong, I still think pregnancy is an absolute miracle, but it's far from comfortable toward the end. Anyone who says differently is being blackmailed.
I half expected it to be a long day. The other half of me thought that, this being my second child, things might go quickly. Especially, since they had the first time around. I filled out the various forms and got settled in my room around 6:30-7:00 in the morning. They put in an IV line and started a Pitocin drip to get the contractions started. Heath and I watched television and I tried to catch a few more moments of sleep. Around 11:00, my OB came in and did the usual "check" to see how things were coming along. She said I was at about 5 cm dilated. She broke my water and said she had to head over the a neighboring hospital for a C-section delivery, but that she'd be back to check on me after that and lunch. She also gave the okay for an epidural. I admire women who brave the throes of labor without medication, but that is NOT me. I told the nurse to send the guy right up and get the epi going. He showed up about fifteen minutes later and hooked me up. Normally, it doesn't take long at all for the epi to take effect, but another fifteen minutes later, I was still feeling a LOT of pain on my left side. So, Dr. Feelgood had to come back in and give me another dose. This time, it worked wonders. The nurse told me to lay on my right side and that she'd come back in about fifteen minutes and help me roll to the other side.
I finally felt like I could fall asleep. Mornings are not my favorite thing. My dad had shown up so Heath had someone else to talk to and I didn't feel so bad about sleeping. Pretty soon, I started to doze off. A short while later, through my semi-conscious haze, I started hearing these weird, wet sounds, but since there were two men in the room who were not shy about bodily functions and the expression thereof, I didn't really give it much thought. A heard a muffled cry and I remember thinking, "Awww, the people in the next room must have had their baby!" as my eyelids fluttered.
The next cry was much louder. In fact, it chased all thoughts of sleep from my mind instantly and my eyes flew open. Heath, my dad, and I all realized at the same moment that the crying was NOT, in fact, coming from the next room. As a less than motherly phrase passed my lips, Heath jumped out of his chair and tore back the blanket covering me. Lo and behold, there was our infant son squirming and crying, having delivered himself entirely without my knowledge. My dad ran to the hall and yelled for the nurses. Like a flock of loving mother hens, the nurses filled my room almost as quickly as if they'd been beamed down from the Starship Enterprise. There was a flurry of excitement as they began their rituals of cleaning up and checking vital signs. They were all in shock, as was I, that I hadn't felt a thing and it all happened so fast.
In moments, our squirming, darling little bundle of boy was snuggled happily in my arms beginning what will likely be his life-long obsession with boobs. When my OB came by after lunch, she was more than a little surprised. I asked her if she'd ever seen another delivery like mine. She told me that she'd delivered thousands of babies and had only seen it happen once before. Apparently, my delivery was the talk of both hospitals that day. While, I'm sure I was the envy of more than one new mother, when things settled down, I had time to really think about what happened. What COULD have happened. What if he hadn't cried and hadn't been able to breathe? What if my body hadn't instinctively reacted and pushed him out? What if he'd gotten stuck? But these things didn't happen.
That night, as I stood holding my precious son by the window in my room, the snow fell softly outside and I had one of those moments when everything was perfect. It was dark, Heath was sleeping on the roll-away bed, the snow was falling in huge, fluffy flakes, and everything was quiet and peaceful. One of those moments you never forget.
Today, my sweet baby boy turned four. Where did the time go? He's growing up to be such a loving, caring boy. He feels things deeply and personally. He's my snuggler. God was watching out for him the day he was born, and I know He still is. I am forever thankful He chose me to be Perrin's mother. I'm beyond lucky!
Four years ago, I had one of the most interesting and exciting days of my life. I got up before the sun to head to the local hospital for a labor induction. My body was feeling the strain of lugging around another human being inside of it for months and I was more than ready to meet the sweet little boy that kept trying to push his tiny foot through the skin of my belly. Don't get me wrong, I still think pregnancy is an absolute miracle, but it's far from comfortable toward the end. Anyone who says differently is being blackmailed.
I half expected it to be a long day. The other half of me thought that, this being my second child, things might go quickly. Especially, since they had the first time around. I filled out the various forms and got settled in my room around 6:30-7:00 in the morning. They put in an IV line and started a Pitocin drip to get the contractions started. Heath and I watched television and I tried to catch a few more moments of sleep. Around 11:00, my OB came in and did the usual "check" to see how things were coming along. She said I was at about 5 cm dilated. She broke my water and said she had to head over the a neighboring hospital for a C-section delivery, but that she'd be back to check on me after that and lunch. She also gave the okay for an epidural. I admire women who brave the throes of labor without medication, but that is NOT me. I told the nurse to send the guy right up and get the epi going. He showed up about fifteen minutes later and hooked me up. Normally, it doesn't take long at all for the epi to take effect, but another fifteen minutes later, I was still feeling a LOT of pain on my left side. So, Dr. Feelgood had to come back in and give me another dose. This time, it worked wonders. The nurse told me to lay on my right side and that she'd come back in about fifteen minutes and help me roll to the other side.
I finally felt like I could fall asleep. Mornings are not my favorite thing. My dad had shown up so Heath had someone else to talk to and I didn't feel so bad about sleeping. Pretty soon, I started to doze off. A short while later, through my semi-conscious haze, I started hearing these weird, wet sounds, but since there were two men in the room who were not shy about bodily functions and the expression thereof, I didn't really give it much thought. A heard a muffled cry and I remember thinking, "Awww, the people in the next room must have had their baby!" as my eyelids fluttered.
The next cry was much louder. In fact, it chased all thoughts of sleep from my mind instantly and my eyes flew open. Heath, my dad, and I all realized at the same moment that the crying was NOT, in fact, coming from the next room. As a less than motherly phrase passed my lips, Heath jumped out of his chair and tore back the blanket covering me. Lo and behold, there was our infant son squirming and crying, having delivered himself entirely without my knowledge. My dad ran to the hall and yelled for the nurses. Like a flock of loving mother hens, the nurses filled my room almost as quickly as if they'd been beamed down from the Starship Enterprise. There was a flurry of excitement as they began their rituals of cleaning up and checking vital signs. They were all in shock, as was I, that I hadn't felt a thing and it all happened so fast.
In moments, our squirming, darling little bundle of boy was snuggled happily in my arms beginning what will likely be his life-long obsession with boobs. When my OB came by after lunch, she was more than a little surprised. I asked her if she'd ever seen another delivery like mine. She told me that she'd delivered thousands of babies and had only seen it happen once before. Apparently, my delivery was the talk of both hospitals that day. While, I'm sure I was the envy of more than one new mother, when things settled down, I had time to really think about what happened. What COULD have happened. What if he hadn't cried and hadn't been able to breathe? What if my body hadn't instinctively reacted and pushed him out? What if he'd gotten stuck? But these things didn't happen.
That night, as I stood holding my precious son by the window in my room, the snow fell softly outside and I had one of those moments when everything was perfect. It was dark, Heath was sleeping on the roll-away bed, the snow was falling in huge, fluffy flakes, and everything was quiet and peaceful. One of those moments you never forget.
Today, my sweet baby boy turned four. Where did the time go? He's growing up to be such a loving, caring boy. He feels things deeply and personally. He's my snuggler. God was watching out for him the day he was born, and I know He still is. I am forever thankful He chose me to be Perrin's mother. I'm beyond lucky!
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