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Little surprises and packages in the mail with gifts for Milla Percy Coryell. A friend of Emily's made the little rattle and Amy Pelletier, Renaissance woman and the most wonderful boss Patrick and I ever had, made the blankie and doll. Thank you thank you thank you.
Milla was born yesterday at 4:10 pm. She entered the world with a zesty scream. Weighing 7 lbs. 12 ounces and measuring 19 cm, her name means "compassion" in Romanian. Her middle name, Percy, is a tribute to Walker Percy, an author who continues to intrigue and fascinate us. We're stuck at the hospital until Sunday, and I am restless and ready to make a run for it. We'll post a delivery dialogue some time later today.
Another free gift from the wonderful spinning babies website.
While we wait for Baby Coryell to arrive, Max is attending a few summer programs at the Capitol School. Emma spends part of the day with Micah, teaching her to say "please" and "thank you" as well and various other little household adventures. Now Max only has two more days to his summer camp, and I confess to being so happy to have him back home.
Homeschooling forges a very tight bond between parents and kids, and all the recent changes in our lives leave me feeling a little unmoored. I think Max isn't quite ready for "regular school" yet, and I base my judgement on a combination of mother's intuition and calibrated observation. So homeschooling for another year it will be! Can't wait to start back on history this coming Monday, unless, of course, the birth of a new baby intervenes.
We got them at Patiently Waiting, a consignment store in Northport. Lately, Micah has gotten into the habit of removing shoes at various and sundry locations where her mother does not realize that shoes are missing until it is too late. Since Micah is quite skilled at velcro and zippers, we found a nice little buckle sandal that she cannot remove. So far, the shoes have been perfect and she hasn't discovered how to remove them yet!
Imagining that the tiny backseat of our little Honda Fit will soon hold three children makes me giggle. I love our little Fit, and the low gas mileage is an added treat. Maybe the American family can live without the "requisite" SUV, even given the fact and gear of three children? We'll soon find out.... For all the time spent driving Max and Micah to various places, including our biweekly Publix trip and our weekly visit to Richard's Market, a few photos from the past week's drives seemed appropriate.
When I opened my eyes this morning, Patrick had a coffee mug in his outstretched hand and a grin on his face. "No baby yet, honey," he smiled. And then the sunlight and the heaviness reminded me that we are waiting.
Baby Coryell is officially "overdue" in only the most technical sense of the word. Her official due date was yesterday, the summer solstice. I had hoped to spend the night frolicking with fairies and contractions, but Baby Coryell showed no appetite for such fun.
This morning, we headed over to visit my ob-gyn; Patrick met us there, since his office did not expect to see him this week.
The Non-Stress Test showed the baby is doing great. My contractions were itty-bitty and not worthy of remark. Dr. Bolton did say that I am 3 cm dilated and my cervix is softening, though still not quite effaced enough to hoist flags. So the waiting continues.
My aunt Sanda returned to Romania without meeting the baby. Suebee and Pops, who are coming tomorrow, plan to stay through Sunday. I hope that the baby will come before then, but I can't make any guarantees. If the baby continues to thrive, my doctor will allow us to hold out until 42 weeks before inducing. That means that it could be July 5th before Baby Coryell comes out to play.
All I can think about is how exciting it will be to meet our new family member and how wonderful to have a doctor who will allow me to wait as long as possible for this little one to choose her own birth date. Sometimes I think how funny it is that birthdays are such a big deal in our culture, especially given that nowadays they are dates we choose on our own. Shouldn't conception dates be awarded the same status as birthdays (at least for those who believe personhood is granted at conception)?
Max arrived early enough to practice his two pieces, which he played for memory. We were so proud of him for persevering through a little memory lapse and ending his pieces with a grand final gesture. Patrick and I found ourselves laughing with tears in our eyes when Max finished his pieces and stood up with a terrific grin. I love this little man so much it hurts- every little Max-ish bit of him, every hair-biting habit, every twinkle, every accident that could have been avoided.
My lovely aunt Sanda took a few photos of a bloated, expectant mommy and her husband. Then my mother stuffed us with squash and feta cheese, an awesome dandelion salad, and some Portugese vino verde. Unfortunately for my soul, I was forced to skip the latter.
I thought the set-up, shadows, and styling were terrific. Like Max.
These days, it is hard to see Max without a piece of hair in his mouth. He went from munching on his t-shirt collars to chewing on his hair.
I think one of the reasons this habit is not as repulsive to me as some family and friends think it ought to be lies in my past penchant for hair munching. I can still remember how much I loved the salty taste of hair in my mouth as I re-read a favorite chapter in a book or took a quiz. I would even chew my hair into a pointed, dried tip (perfect for tucking behind my ear). Sometimes I would bend my hair several times into a "triplet" and suck on it until it lost all its taste.
I know, I know.... "Eeewwww... Gross.... Yucky....." However, unlike the public passing of gastrointestinal gasses, chewing your hair is a largely personal problem. There is no resulting tragedy of the commons in which the environment is altered to the detriment of innocent bystanders. In fact, chewing your hair (like biting your nails) doesn't damage anything except your own body (in this case, hardly).
Since I am pretty sure Max will grow out of this habit, as I grew out of my hair-munching habit, I don't see the need for drastic measures or shaming. If you are one of those wonderful persons who does not chew your hair, you can be very proud of yourself and pat yourself on the back for being such a fabulous human being. But please let our little hair-munchers enjoy their distasteful habit as they enjoy their Doglands and tooth fairies and other harmless childhood passions. One day, they will be just as responsible, mature, and sweet-smelling as you. Whether they will be happier is another story altogether.
Written accounts of labor and birth from the 1700s and 1800s often mention the custom of baking a groaning cake. In some areas this was used to simply celebrate the birth. Other customs included having the father cut the cake into chunks and throwing it into the midwife's apron, or passing it around to local girls who were supposed to put it under their pillows in order to dream about their future husbands. And some accounts even include baking cake with gin and crushed hemp seed (cannabis) in it in order to relieve pain during labor.
Ami McKay, author of The Birth House, has this to share about groaning cake traditions:
The tradition of the groaning cake, or kimbly at (or following) a birth is an ancient one. Wives' tales say that the scent of a groaning cake being baked in the birth house helps to ease the mother's pain. Some say if a mother breaks the eggs while she's aching, her labour won't last as long. Others say that if a family wants prosperity and fertility, the father must pass pieces of the cake to friends and family the first time the mother and baby are "churched" (or the first time they go to a public gathering) after a birth. Many cultures share similar traditions…a special dish, bread, or drink, spiced with cinnamon, all spice, and/or ginger. At one time there was even a "groaning ale" made to go with it…
I made groaning cake the day of my son's home birth and my neighbour brought me "health bread" the day after the birth. This recipe is a combination of the two. It has apple, molasses, orange juice and spices and can really help to see a woman through a long labour, or give her strength after the birth!
Here is Ami's recipe:
Sift dry ingredients together. Add apple. Beat eggs. Add oil, orange juice, molasses and sugar. Add to dry ingredients. Mix well. Add almond extract. Bake at 350 F. for 35-40 minutes. Makes two 9 X 5 loaves or about 18 muffins. Additions: raisins, dates, dried fruits, or nuts.
Pontulia only exists after rainstorms, and only some animals and humans are privvy to its secrets. Fortunately, Micah and I know its Master, so we learn new facts about Pontulia every time the sky leaks.
The old lyric from the Smashing Pumpkins song, "Today," kept swimming through my head until it turned to a hum. A perfect day with just enough rain to sate the garden and cool the cement. Eventful in all the right ways {if you except Micah's temper tantrum and self-induced head bump early this evening).
The morning started with a visit to Dr. Jennifer Bolton, my ob-gyn. I always leave her office in a great mood- maybe it is knowing that our baby is doing well, maybe it is the confidence she inspires in me as a patient. Micah stayed in the room as Dr. Bolton checked to see if I had dilated or effaced. Once in a while, Micah peered up from her Mirena brochure to see what was happening, but she quickly changed her mind and took to scribbling instead.
After our adventures at the doctor's office, Micah and I drove around town in search of Snappis for the cloth diaper experiment. It seems that Snappis are far too exotic for local market preferences because we could not find them anywhere.
Max raved about his experiences with Mrs. Hill in the Capitol School Super Science Summer Exploration and had a blast with Dr. Freeman and the legos. He mentioned something about a Minotaur and how the game played differed from the original ending in the myth- so glad we learned myths this year in homeschooling.
Dr. and Mrs. Lazarescu dropped by and brought chocolate for the kids; I love how they always bring chocolate for the kids, reminds me of how everyone in Romania brings fresh flowers when they pay a visit. They are such a beautiful couple - the lines of their life-long love imprinted like kisses around their eyes and on their foreheads. I wish I had stopped long enough to take a photo before they disappeared in the afternoon shower.
