This morning when they brought Deignan to me, she was wide awake and smiling. I made my first maternal sacrifice by turning off the air conditioning so the baby would not get a chill although it means I will smother all day. Still no sign of postpartum depression. I hope I don’t get it when I get home.
I just thought about the Lamaze books showing the mother eating a lollipop while she’s in labor. I sure as hell didn’t feel like eating a lollipop during labor! My concentration was really poor. I started out so off the rhythm that I never caught up until the nurse came and helped me calm down. We didn’t practice enough, I guess. I’m not sure but I wonder how many folks really have a lollipop experience as opposed to the hard, hot, bloody, frantic, gritty experience I had. Natural childbirth at its finest!
Even as we were leaving for the hospital, Daddy was still saying, “Don’t be too proud to take something for the pain.” But I didn’t have to! I did get kind of dramatic toward the end and call out, “Help me!” a couple of times, but I figure that’s to be expected.
Kris and I were talking about the weird feeling it gives you of being a part of a continuing cycle from the slaves and the masters to our recently compiled family tree to the Africans before that on through Nanny and Poppy, Grandmother and Grandfather. It’s like you have added your own bit to our family to keep it going and be sure it survives. Like Jilo and Ife and Deignan become a part of all those other people that had to happen before we/they could happen. It is hard to talk about this stuff without sounding corny as hell, but it’s all about LIFE!