<quote-01>friday, september 4th<quote-01>: still no contractions. sarah goes back in for a sonogram. baby looks fine, sarah looks fine, but with the gestational diabetes--however controlled by diet--they decide to set a date for induction. sarah is disappointed, but there’s nothing to be done. they’ll try another membrane sweep on sunday, but if that doesn’t work, they induce on tuesday.
i’ve been off the opioids and on the stool softeners for a couple days now. i’ve dealt with constipation before, but opioids? i don’t know <quote-02>how these pill-poppers do it<quote-02>. i tried laxatives today--both oral and suppository--in addition to the stool softeners, but they led to a mere single <quote-03>liquid shit<quote-03>, followed by the same blockage.
<quote-04>saturday, september 5th<quote-04>: i wake to find you’ve finally posted, hoke. i spend the day with your tremendous letter, reading and re-reading, trying to find the space to comment. mostly, i don’t know what to say. i keep returning to the image of you smoking a cigarette in the morning, surveying the state of your backyard, and i’m filled with gratitude for what we are doing here.
<quote-05>sunday, september 6th<quote-05>: sarah’s cervix remains too closed for a successful sweep. tuesday it is.
<quote-06>monday, september 7th<quote-06>: 9 days after the due date.
<quote-07>tuesday, september 8th<quote-07>: we drop off cooper at daycare where he’ll remain until we return with the baby. he loves it there; sometimes i wonder if he wouldn’t prefer we left him there for good. sarah and i gather up our hospital bags and the carseat and hop an uber to metropolitan hospital on the upper east side. hey, i tell sarah, one good thing about how this is playing out: you’re not suffering the car ride while in active labor. / yes, this is true, she sighs.
<quote-08>i hate that my kidney stones robbed sarah<quote-08> of what otherwise might have been a slow ramp into labor at home. i can’t imagine her body wasn’t clamping down, postponing the birth while i got my shit in order. again, there was no stress on the baby during this week-plus delay of labor, and some babies are born even later than ours, but still. we’re at 41 and 3. our medical system doesn’t like babies going longer than 42--odds of stillbirth start to go up after 41, hence the constant monitoring during the 40th week--but some home births do happen at 43. it also doesn’t help that sarah is 35, or that this is her first child. the cutoff for our midwives was 41 and 5 for induction. all these numbers might sound like splitting hairs, but when <quote-09>the goal<quote-09> is a natural birth without medication in america, as you both know, the hours matter.
we arrive at 10am and are settled into our room by noon. the first step is a dose of misoprostol. she’s given a tiny pill vaginally at around 2pm. contractions begin over the next couple hours but none that cause her much discomfort. my constipation and constant urge to urinate remain the benchmarks for uncomfortability in our laboring room.
the contractions start to ramp up around 5pm. a good sign. an obstetrician pops his head in--eastern european, shaved head, severe demeanor. he’ll be on for the evening and wants to introduce himself. before going on his way, he mentions how he’ll be administering another dose of misoprostol later in the evening, then the foley balloon, followed by pitocin, yada yada. although each of these methods was discussed with the midwives, the plan was to wait and see if the miso does the trick on its own. the guy can fuck himself in hell, sarah and i confirm to each other. the midwives are running the show as far as we’re concerned.
our midwife for the evening is lindsey, a saucy southern lady our age from north carolina. i stay in touch with our doula sarah-grace via texts, but nothing so far is out of sarah’s ability to cope, so we figure we’ll let sarah-grace continue to get some rest until we feel she is needed. she asks which midwife is on for the evening. oh sweet! lindsey is the best, she confirms.
the contractions continue to ramp up. at first sarah desires my assistance in <quote-10>applying pressure to her lower back on either side of her spine<quote-10>. i’m aware of numerous spots that are supposed to be helpful in dampening the pain, but she doesn’t want to hear about any of them; she knows right where she needs it. for a time my hands are helpful, and then they are not. <quote-11>she prefers to be left alone<quote-11>.
i monitor the duration and frequency of the contractions using an app on my phone. the hope is the miso has given sarah enough of a kickstart that further assistance won’t be necessary. she labors for a stretch on the toilet, then a stretch on the bed with the <quote-12>peanut ball<quote-12>, then back to the toilet. she goes inside herself and rides the waves as they roll on. she seems to have reserves for days--a powerful little woman. i suppose my presence must be of some assistance, but my only use seems to be in logging contraction times and requesting that the nurses--when they stop in to take sarah’s blood pressure and the like--not bother her when she’s in the middle of a contraction.
while laboring on the toilet, she starts to drip what i assume is amniotic fluid mixed with blood. it looks the color of my urine.
around 11:30pm she reaches down to wipe herself between contractions and is surprised to feel a sac of liquid hanging out of her. with no little urgency, <quote-13>she calls me over to take a look<quote-13>. i apologize for such an obvious thematic comparison here, but it’s as if a <quote-14>baseball<quote-14> is hanging out of sarah’s vagina. the sac is clear, the liquid a light yellow. from my reading i know this means he’s yet to poop in there. a good sign! i reassure sarah.
i call in lindsey, and she helps sarah to the bed, positioning her on her knees, her torso supported by the inclined head of the bed, the sac of fluid hanging between her legs for all to see. i’m not saying there’s a baby’s head directly behind that sac, but i’m not saying there’s not either, lindsey says. she asks the nurses to prepare for delivery.
a flurry of activity begins. oh, wooooow, an older nurse exclaims behind her mask, pausing her duties to wonder at the sac. i ain’t never seen it happen like that before! jesus, woman, i think at first. a little decorum, perhaps? but then i am happy, both for the sentiment and the blunt way it was conveyed. afterall, <quote-15>these women live amongst miracles<quote-15>.
lindsey says she’d like to check and see how dilated sarah is and whether or not there is in fact a baby ready to plop out. she was hesitant to check earlier in the evening, <quote-16>i think for fear of disheartening a laboring person who might assume they are farther along than they actually are<quote-16>. excited by the possibility of our baby’s imminent arrival, sarah readily consents. should i call our doula now? i ask. um...yes, lindsey says, <quote-17>looking at me from behind her mask like i’m the biggest idiot in the room<quote-17>. who’s your doula? she asks, snapping on her gloves. sarah-grace, i tell her. oh, nice. i love her, <quote-18>she says<quote-18>. the sac breaks off and spills into a plastic pouch attached to the paper on the bed. the nurses mark the time of the rupture. sarah is fully dilated. lindsey can feel the baby’s head.
sarah-grace arrives a little after midnight, happy the baby wasn’t born while she was on her way. she’s <quote-19>impressed<quote-19> by how rapidly sarah sped through active labor and transition.
<quote-20>wednesday, september 9th<quote-20>: the contractions are less intense now as sarah eases into the birthing phase. sarah-grace walks with her around the room, testing various different positions to facilitate the baby re-positioning himself should he need to. lindsey is in and out of the room. there’s no rush here, she assures us.
<pull-quote>how these pill-poppers do it<pull-quote>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>One at a time, bro. One at a time.<p-comment>
<p-comment>But, like, sometimes way more than one at a time.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<pull-quote>liquid shit<pull-quote>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>What happened to the wine metaphors, Mr. Fancy Pants?<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-hoke><avatar-hoke><author-name>Hoke<author-name>
<p-comment>No au jus?<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-wuck><avatar-wuck><author-name>Wuck<author-name>
<p-comment>the difference here is that i didn’t look before i flushed, so the shade would no longer be experiential, so much as gratuitous. with the urine, i was constantly worried something was wrong, and i used the color to judge. when i was constipated and passed a stream of liquid out of my ass, the last thing i wanted to do was look in the bowl. so yes, hoke: no au jus, please.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-hoke><avatar-hoke><author-name>Hoke<author-name>
<p-comment>Yeah, it's not for everyone.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-wuck><avatar-wuck><author-name>Wuck<author-name>
<p-comment>goddamnit, hoke.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<pull-quote>saturday, september 5th<pull-quote>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>Treinen can't get a single out in the 9th, and Alex Wood can't douse the flames.<p-comment>
<p-comment>Bottom-feeding Rockies 5, Juggernauting Dodgers 2 in Game 41 of 60.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<pull-quote>sunday, september 6th<pull-quote>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>Urias isn't much good, and Ferguson shits the bed late. <p-comment>
<p-comment>Dodgers lose two in a row for only the third time all season. It's their first series loss, 7-6 the final.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<pull-quote>monday, september 7th<pull-quote>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>A day off--for Wuck and Sarah in this letter too.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<pull-quote>tuesday, september 8th<pull-quote>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>"Shitting the bed" is too kind a description for what Jansen does in the 10th, but the Dodgers have the cushion to weather it. Gavin Lux hits a big one. 10-9 Dodgers in Game 44.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-wuck><avatar-wuck><author-name>Wuck<author-name>
<p-comment>no little sleep with be lost in los angeles over jansen this postseason, i’ll tell you what.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<pull-quote>i hate that my kidney stones robbed sarah<pull-quote>
<avatar-hoke><avatar-hoke><author-name>Hoke<author-name>
<p-comment>You naming this is sweet. You can see what she's losing even as she's being an MVP.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-wuck><avatar-wuck><author-name>Wuck<author-name>
<p-comment>it’s hard for me to be sick. i think folks who get sick more often—sarah included—have a little more grace when it comes to allowing their bodies to heal, knowing that time is required, not trying to fruitlessly speed up the process. not me.<p-comment>
<p-comment>another difference between sarah and me—and perhaps folks who rarely get sick and folks who often do—is that my crisis meter goes up pretty fast. when i was told the red in my urine would clear up after a few days, pink on day five had me all kinds of concerned. the same with the constipation: took a week until i was back to normal—day three i was freaking out.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<pull-quote>the goal<pull-quote>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>The men and the mice rejoin the conversation.<p-comment>
<p-comment>Kershaw is done after 7, by the way. He gave up a run but faced only one batter beyond the minimum, and nobody got to second base after that squib double. Considering it all took place at Coors Field, we're talking borderline gem. McGee in to relieve him in the 8th although Kershaw--at 86 pitches--was certainly raring to return.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-wuck><avatar-wuck><author-name>Wuck<author-name>
<p-comment>i tuned into the game as i did dishes after our anniversary dinner. orel mentioned how the field at dodger stadium was dark. A lovely, strange detail. i could imagine him and joe in their home booth, announcing the away game in front of their virtual streams, but for some reason i pictured the field lit, however empty.<p-comment>
<p-comment>and before you ask: pan fried bavette, roasted lemon parsley fingerlings, blistered shishitos with lime, pan toasted sourdough with butter and salt, mahon cheese, apple, pineapple, and a simple salad with pecorino. for dessert, we pulled out a couple frozen balls of chocolate chip cookie dough. sarah found a recipe earlier this year that uses part bread flower, which is higher in gluten. the dough rests for three days before baking or freezing; this allows the gluten to further develop, or something like that. i exaggerate not in claiming they are the best chocolate chip cookies i’ve ever had. the last time we baked a couple we had them with a homemade vanilla. we’ve got two more waiting in the freezer.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>Sounds marvelous. Calls to mind when Andy and I both ordered prime flanks on Guy Night and his was prepared 100% better than mine.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-hoke><avatar-hoke><author-name>Hoke<author-name>
<p-comment>Dang, you both know how to do things right. We still make ice cream twice a year with the ice cream maker and book you and Sarah gave us for our wedding nine years ago.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<pull-quote>applying pressure to her lower back on either side of her spine<pull-quote>
<avatar-hoke><avatar-hoke><author-name>Hoke<author-name>
<p-comment>That's exactly where Rachel shouted I pummel her during rapid contractions on the toilet for two hours.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-wuck><avatar-wuck><author-name>Wuck<author-name>
<p-comment>this is what i thought of, this moment in your letter, you shoveling food in-between.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-hoke><avatar-hoke><author-name>Hoke<author-name>
<p-comment>Yeah, she really almost vomitted--she later told me--when I'd race back with spaghetti breath at her side.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<pull-quote>she prefers to be left alone<pull-quote>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>Fucking MVP. Holy hell.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<pull-quote>peanut ball<pull-quote>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>Just googled it. What a hilarious contraption.<p-comment>
<p-comment>Nothing for the Rockies in the 8th.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-wuck><avatar-wuck><author-name>Wuck<author-name>
<p-comment>hilarious, appropriately named, and extremely useful.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<pull-quote>she calls me over to take a look<pull-quote>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>No, thank you.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-hoke><avatar-hoke><author-name>Hoke<author-name>
<p-comment>This reminds me of you changing Gram's diaper in Cal Anderson park in Seattle, Murph, your five alarm freakout that had me laughing--while I pinned my shit-covered godson to the ground and you handled it, while screaming. That is, you were screaming. Good times.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>Indeed. I'm glad you remember it as such, especially considering everything that happened soon after.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-hoke><avatar-hoke><author-name>Hoke<author-name>
<p-comment>Yeah, I'll wrangle a shit-rolling baby Grammar with you in the CHAZ any day--over wrangling the shit that would begin just days later. <p-comment>
<p-comment>I baptized both Grammar and Lulo, I now realize.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>It’s just that we were so far from soap and water, bro. And I was wearing what I’d planned to wear the entire day. The stakes were high.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<pull-quote>baseball<pull-quote>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>Baseball, you say? We're going to the bottom of the 9th. Dodgers still up 6-1.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<pull-quote>these women live amongst miracles<pull-quote>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>The Wuck in me bridles at this. What is more commonplace than birth?<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-wuck><avatar-wuck><author-name>Wuck<author-name>
<p-comment>what more commonplace than miracles?<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>Fair. Turn your attention to the void of space and try telling yourself that every second here isn't fucking miraculous.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-hoke><avatar-hoke><author-name>Hoke<author-name>
<p-comment>Nice turn, gentlemen.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<pull-quote>i think for fear of disheartening a laboring person who might assume they are farther along than they actually are<pull-quote>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>Let me tell you, God bless her.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-wuck><avatar-wuck><author-name>Wuck<author-name>
<p-comment>i know. i thought of kristen often throughout the evening.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<pull-quote>looking at me from behind her mask like i’m the biggest idiot in the room<pull-quote>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>Classic Wuck. Get with the program. Did you even pass your dad test?<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-wuck><avatar-wuck><author-name>Wuck<author-name>
<p-comment>dad test?<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>They let you enter the maternity ward without turning in your scantron?<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-hoke><avatar-hoke><author-name>Hoke<author-name>
<p-comment>Things might be different during the pandemic?<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<pull-quote>she says<pull-quote>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>It's not all about you, Lindsey. For all I care, there's an "a" in your name.<p-comment>
<p-comment>One more out to go, Dodgers up 6-1. I never thought a game in Coors Field would end before I finished my read-through! Then again, Kersh gon' Kersh.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-wuck><avatar-wuck><author-name>Wuck<author-name>
<p-comment>she was the best. we looked her up online afterward, and we barely recognized her without the mask.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<pull-quote>impressed<pull-quote>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>Well, MVP, after all.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-wuck><avatar-wuck><author-name>Wuck<author-name>
<p-comment>you ain’t kidding. we were both anticipating transition: those last couple centimeters that are supposed to be the worst of the worst. judging by her vocalizations, some of the contractions seemed more intense than others, but it all seemed a bit of a piece to me.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<pull-quote>wednesday, september 9th<pull-quote>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>Kershaw struggles, but the Dodgers pull this one out, besting the Dbacks 6-4 thanks to two in the 10th.<p-comment>
<p-comment>To quote the Bard, "all's well that ends well."<p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<pull-quote><pull-quote>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment><p-comment>
<p-comment><p-comment>
<p-comment><p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-hoke><avatar-hoke><author-name>Hoke<author-name>
<p-comment><p-comment>
<p-comment><p-comment>
<p-comment><p-comment>
<hr><hr>
<avatar-wuck><avatar-wuck><author-name>Wuck<author-name>
<p-comment><p-comment>
<p-comment><p-comment>
<p-comment><p-comment>
<hr><hr>
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<pull-quote>friday, september 4th<pull-quote>
<avatar-murph><avatar-murph><author-name>Murph<author-name>
<p-comment>Dodgers bludgeon the beleaguered Rockies bullpen for five in the 8th. Score makes it look like more of a cakewalk than it was. 10-6, good guys.<p-comment>
<p-comment>It's the Dodgers' 30th win in their first 40 games--their best start ever.<p-comment>
<hr><hr>