If you only remember one thing...

Remember to eat before going to the hospital to give birth. Once you are admitted, nothing but ice chips will pass your lips. I know that the movies and TV make it seem like you should rush right to the hospital as soon as your water breaks (which is always portrayed as a dramatic and unmistakable event) and that within a short time you will be pushing your baby out. But the truth is, under usual circumstances, there is no need to rush right to the hospital. In fact, once you get there, it will take them some time to admit you. You might even have to wait while the shift changes before anyone will so much as take your blood pressure. Then, unless your labor is unusually fast or you have already labored quite a bit at home, you will spend many hours waiting, having a contraction, waiting some more, until the baby is born. It could be 6 hours it could be 23. There is no way to know in advance. But I can promise you one thing. You will be told not to eat. ANYTHING. So, before you go to the hospital, eat a good meal, fold your clean laundry, tie up the loose ends of your day. You'll be glad that you did.

Babies Wait for No Woman

I should have followed K's advice and finalized my doula arrangement with the client who was due at the end of Feb. I was busy, though, and thought that I still had plenty of time. I called her today to check in, and discovered that the baby came on Saturday! She had asked her husband to call me, but he didn't have the number handy. Fortunately, from the info I'd given her by email, she was able to talk to a midwife and find a hospital to deliver at where they gave her the time that she needed to labor so that she didn't have to have a c-section.

She had contacted a couple weeks ago about recommendations for a doctor or midwife. The doctor that she had been seeing for pre-natal care was insisting that she needed a c-section, because he thought the baby was too big. She was uncomfortable with this conclusion, since the pregnancy had been normal and there were no other risk factors. I'm glad that she had the confidence in her own reasoning to look for a second opinion. She was able to have the baby without surgery, and both she and the baby are doing well.

I did get to have dinner tonight with my first doula client and her family. Her baby is 6 months now, and I could have spent all night playing with her. (Well, at least until she got really cranky.) She almost seems like my godchild--I got to watch her come into this world. How amazing is that? Next time, I won't put things off. You never know when the baby will come.

I made the short list

You would think that since I'm in my late 20s, am done with college, and have held the same job in the "real world" for at least 2 years, I would be comfortable thinking of myself as an adult. But much of the time, I'm not. I still often feel like a 17 year old who is waiting for life to really start. But every once in awhile, something happens to me, or I do something, that make me feel like I really am a grown up after all, and life is the way I imagined adulthood would be.

One of these moments come one summer in college, when a friend and I got together and canned cherries. When I was little, my mom canned every summer, and often we'd get together with her sisters and mother and have a huge canning party. My brothers and I would help wash the fruit, slice or pit it, and neatly slide each piece into the jars under adult supervision. So by doing the whole process myself, including the actual sealing of the jars, I was taking my place as one of the women. When I told my grandmother that I wanted to can, she gave me her old canning pot and jars. I looked through some cookbooks and searched online, and then called my grandmother to find out her exact method. (For one thing, she uses much less sugar than most recipes call for.) Then my friend and I bought a couple of boxes of cherries and other supplies, and spent a Saturday afternoon canning together. A smaller group than my aunts and grandmother, but a enjoyable one none the less.

Home canned fruit is so much riper and tastier than store canned. My grandmother had cherry trees for many years, and I so she would often serve us bowls of home canned cherries, giving us an old lid from a jar to spit the seeds into. My mother would usually get some of the cherries from my grandmother's tree, and we had apricot trees. She would can apricots and also make jam, which she would give out at Christmas. We loved all the canned fruit, there would usually be peaches and pears too, but she'd tell us that we needed to save most of it to eat for the winter. When I canned cherries, I probably only did about 9 bottles. I did try and keep the last one for a special occasion, but it never quite came. I think I finally ate it before I moved, so I wouldn't have to worry about it breaking during the move.

A few months ago, I was telling my dad about another adult moment I had experienced. (Now I can't remember what it was exactly.) He shared with me his one of his pivotal adult moments. It was when he was discussing sprinkler systems with a friend, since he was going to have one installed in the front yard of the house he'd recently bought. His friend pointed out that this was something only adults would talk about. I laughed about it, but was also a little shocked, because at that point in his life, he already had 3 children, of whom I at age 5 was the oldest! I always assumed that having children would make you feel permanently like an adult, but I guess I was wrong. Of course, I also assumed that marriage and children would come naturally and in my early 20s. That I would be a mother before I was an aunt. (I'm not married, and don't have children, and am not yet an aunt. But I may be an aunt before I am married, and I decided one day on the subway that if I don't get married, I'll still adopt at least one child.)

Tonight I got a call from the husband of that very same friend that I canned cherries with. At first I was surprised that he was the one calling me, but suddenly I realized what he must be calling about. Their first baby had been born! (This is the baby that I made the pink sweater for.) She arrived a couple days ago, and is now at home with her parents. Both mama and baby are doing well, and dad was dispatched to call with the news. I forget her size and weight, but her middle name is Eve.

This is the first time that I have been called personally by proud new parents! Usually I find out later by email (or blog) or through a family member passing on the news. But I'm a grown up now, and have close friends who are having babies, and are calling (or having their husbands call) to tell me about it. Hurray!