On Friday morning, the 28th, I went to the Farmer's Market and bought sweet corn, in addition to a smattering of other vegetables. Pushing Starbeans in an umbrella stroller, I passed by a vender selling pints of beautiful blueberries and raspberries in little wooden square containers.
Seeing them pushed me into the realm of memory.
Last year, July 28th was on a Thursday. The Farmer's Market is downtown on Thursdays in Minneapolis and I was there after an appointment with my midwife. Before catching the bus, I bought sweet corn at one stand; then I passed by a vender selling beautiful blueberries and raspberries in little wooden square containers - and I stopped and bought a pint of each.
As I sat waiting for the bus, feeling hot and miserably pregnant, I thought about the raspberries, the blueberries, the non-pregnant Mexican woman sitting next to me, and wondered, "When...when...??" When on earth was I going to get this baby out of me? Who would it be? Was this woman feeling sorry for me - because I sure was. What would it feel like to not be pregnant again? What would it feel like to have an actual baby?
I brought all the corn and blueberries and raspberries home, but didn't eat any of it: I planned to savor them over the weekend. I wasn't due until August 8th anyways, and good grief - don't first babies go over their due date by at least a week?
We went out for dinner with my grandparents that night, where I pounded down an enormous hamburger, a giant plate of french fries, and drank glass after glass of water and raspberry lemonade. Very strange, indeed, as I barely drank anything after 6 pm last summer to avoid getting up (literally) 4-6 times a night to pee and I hadn't been able to eat much recently either - the baby was taking up too much room. Odd - very odd.
- 2 am that night/morning, my water broke.
- 4 am contractions started.
- 10 am we went into the hospital.
- All afternoon and evening we labored through back labor, of all unpleasant and painful things.
- 10 pm, after being stuck at 7 centimeters for 5 hours, my midwife said, "I know you said that you wanted to go naturally, but if I've ever seen a time where Pitocin would be useful in my 30 years, the time is now."
- 11 pm, Pitocin administered.
- 1:17 am, Saturday July 30th, our beautiful Starbeans plunked out with nary a cry. The midwife brought him to my chest and I looked at him with utter amazement. He made little squeaking noises and suckled at the breast.
By the time we got back to our sweet corn, it has lost some of its juicy vibrance. We brought the raspberries and blueberries to the hospital with us, but got lost in all the excitement; and, they too, lost some of their umph.
It was strange to walk by the same vendor selling the same beautiful berries, only this time my sweet little munchkin was known to me - sitting in a stroller in front of me and smiling up with his 4-toothed grin. The last time he was snuggled up in my womb, pinching my sciatic nerve, and waiting for his soon-to-be grand entrance.