Home Birth: Regina Lynn, 20, North Dakota

Our birth story begins in May, 2008, when I figured out that JD Man and I were expecting our first baby, 5 months after our wedding.  I had never really seen myself giving birth in a routine hospital setting, and, after a lot of reading, had already decided on a home birth before I ever knew we were pregnant. JD Man needed no convincing as his own mother had given birth to 8 of her 9 children at home. He's the oldest and was not born at home simply because back in the time and place he was born, most midwives did not deliver first babies at home. I, too, being the oldest in my family, was the only one not born at home and had grown up with the idea that birth and birthing at home was perfectly normal. My mom gave birth to 9 of her 10 children at home and we seemed to be friends with a lot of other families who did the same thing.  I guess you could say I was brought up with a healthy view of birth, even though I couldn't have argued it. It was just all so normal to me. It was painful, but it wasn't anything to be afraid of. It was what it was.  And no, we were not one of those families where all the children are present at a younger sibling's birth. Not that there's anything wrong with that, if that's what you want, but what I'm saying is that you don't have to have your children watch you give birth for them to know that it's not something to be afraid of and that it's a perfectly normal process.

Although I was present at my two youngest brothers' births when I was 15 and 17, I don't remember either event being a really monumental occasion that changed my view of birth. It was the same as I always knew it to be, although I did stand in the corner when I was 15, horrified at the idea of seeing my mom's “area”, and when my littlest brother was born when I was 17, I was practically the midwife's assistant as her assistants didn't make it until the absolute last minute. I was still weirded out about seeing my mom like that, but a lot things had happened, and a lot of maturing went on in those 2 years, and I just buckled down and did what I needed to do to help out.

So, almost exactly 3 years after my youngest brother's birth, I found out that I was pregnant, and, although I was pretty sure what we were going to end up doing, I looked into my options and did some more research just like any good firstborn child would do.  When I discovered where our national maternity care was and how, in most hospitals, many often unnecessary procedures took place, and how those procedures often led to more procedures, my original idea of giving birth at home was turned into my for-sure-except-for-an-actual-emergency plan. I totally trusted my body and just felt I needed the time and the space to labor and simply let my body do what it needed to do. I always knew that transfer and c-section were always a possibility, but I never really worried about it. Maybe I was naïve and maybe I should have been more mentally prepared for the chance that something might not go according to plan, but I figured I deal with that if it ever came to that.

JD Man and I read “Husband Coached Childbirth” by Dr. Robert Bradley together and attended a birthing class for home birthing couples suggested by my certified nurse midwife (CNM), Pam. Although, I'm pretty sure the classes and the model pelvis and charts were much more beneficial for JD Man as I could have taught the actual pain-handling techniques and tips the teacher shared, just from the vast amount of extra internet reading I had done. I seriously read and read and watched birth videos on YouTube and then read some more. I quit my full-time cow-milking job in June as JD Man didn't want me doing that past the first trimester, but continued my part-time bridal shop job. I only mention that to say that I had lots of time for reading birthy stuff and forming opinions. I was pretty sure that labor was intense, but if you concentrated hard enough it could be practically painless. I was almost to the point where I thought anyone who got any epidural was a big baby. ALMOST, I said!

We painted the nursery, put together our birth supplies, and just got ready in general.  My original due date was November 8^th, 2008, but that came and went and Pam sent us for a biophysical ultrasound where we found out that my actual due date was “sometime in December, ” which is  a whole different story for another post called “Why I Will Never Go On Hormonal Birth Control Again.” Let's just say I went through the mental torture of being 2 weeks “overdue” only to find out that I had to face the last 4-8 mentally grueling weeks of pregnancy all over again.

FINALLY, Christmas rolled around and I began to feel resigned to the idea that I would be pregnant for a long, long time. We were busy with family things and I no longer woke up every morning wondering if this could possibly be the day I finally went into labor. It was more like, “Maybe. Meh, whatever.”  The non-stress tests were all showing a healthy baby and healthy placenta, so I just plodded along. And I do mean plodded. I was the hugest pregnant woman. Ever. And you'll just have to trust me on that as I have no good photos of me at that stage. Mostly because I hated having pictures taken of me- I was just too huge.

Early labor at my grandparent's house.

Finally, on December 27^th, a Saturday, I began having sporadic contractions beginning in the early afternoon. They weren't anything major- I didn't even really notice them. They definitely weren't painful, just strong tightenings. I'd think in the farthest back of my mind, “Oh, there's one.” and a little while later, “There's another one.”  We had a family get-together and gift exchange that evening, so I spent the afternoon preparing some snack stuff I was supposed to bring (I actually begged to be given something to do since I was so bored waiting to go into labor), surfing the web, wrapping a few gifts.  The gathering was for supper and yummy holiday foods, along with PRESENTS! at my Opa and Oma's (the German names for Grandpa and Grandma). We got there around 4 p.m., and during supper I sat through several contractions and thought, “Man, these things are kinda getting regular and maybe a little painful,” and kept half an eye on the clock as the evening progressed.

Somewhere halfway through the chaos that is my family's gift exchange, I went to the bathroom several times because my granny panties were suddenly very wet. At that point, I wasn't sure if my water was leaking or what. Now, looking back, I'm pretty sure it was my mucus plug. I know, the mucus plug for a lot of women involves chunks of, just that, mucus. But it can also come out as thick, gooey discharge. I know- lovely picture, isn't it?  My aunt gave me a pantyliner and I went back to the wrapping paper jungle in the living room, contracting away. At that point, the contractions were 8-10 minutes apart and 30 seconds long- not too much to get excited about.

As the evening progressed, so did the contractions; But I wouldn't really have described them as painful, per se. Just, in Ina May Gaskin's words, an interesting sensation that I needed to pay attention to.

Finally, through a game of Balderdash with my aunts and cousins, I started needing to actually kinda concentrate on those sensations.  By this time, it was almost 10:30 pm and I told JD Man I wanted to go home so I could get some sleep before things got serious. By then, contractions were 6 minutes apart and 45 seconds long.

I called Pam on the way home, just to give her a heads up, even though I wasn't yet to the standard contractions-5-minutes-apart-and-1-minute-long place, but I had no idea how things were going to go and wanted to talk to her before she went to bed rather than have things start moving really quickly and have to rudely awaken her at 1 am. Although, I'm pretty sure she's used to that happening.  She said she'd have one of her assistants stop by and check up on things.  Of course, as soon as I walked through the door, everything seemed to stop. Well, slowed down a lot, I guess I should say. The contractions, while they didn't get any shorter, spread out to something like 15 minutes apart. I was not happy.

Assistant came and checked me- I was between 2 and 3 cm, up from 1 cm at my last appointment several days before. She could feel G's head, and the bag of waters was still intact, so she said she'd stick around for another hour to see what happened.  I was supposed to try and sleep, but I was way too excited. It was completely annoying. I wanted to be able to go to sleep for several hours and wake up in “real” active labor. Enough of this little piddly stuff, give me the real thing!

I had JD Man rub the pressure points above the insides of my ankles to get things moving again. That hurt. No, not the actual contractions, just the pressure points. I guess as you get closer to labor, those areas get really sore, especially when someone's pressing on them with their thumbs. But it did what it was supposed to do and the contractions started coming more regularly again, this time 5 minutes apart and averaging a good 60-90 seconds long.

And that's the way it stayed all night long.

I rocked in the rocking chair for awhile, with JD Man dozing on the floor in front of me, then took a nice hot shower. Contractions didn't slow down or stop in the shower, so I was finally convinced in my head, that yes, this really was the real thing.  I got into bed and tried to sleep between the contractions for a few hours. That kind of sucked. At this point, the excitement had kind of worn off and I was tired. I wanted to either be able to get a couple of hours of good sleep or else be in heavy active labor so I could have this baby and then get some sleep. Those hours of trying to sleep passed with falling asleep for 3 or 4 minutes, breathing through a contraction and then falling asleep again.  The midwife's assistant who had come around 11 pm ended up coming down with the flu or something, so Pam came around 4:30 am to relieve her.

Pam checked me then and I was about 4 cm, with ruptured membranes. We figured my water must have broken while I was in the shower because I definitely hadn't noticed a stream, even a small one, of fluid anywhere else during the night.  I tried to sleep a little more and then got up and started moving around. I did everything I'd read about getting the baby to move down and really get things moving. I squatted, “baby danced,” pelvic rocks, pretty much everything. The only thing I didn't do and probably should have was go out and walk. But it was late December and cold and I wasn't about to get changed out of my nice comfy nightie into something decent. Hey, at this point I didn't even have sweat pants or anything of the sort to fit my gigantesorous butt.

I should mention here that JD Man was being an absolute gem. He kept me company, made sure I kept sipping my Cherry Limeade (not sure I will every drink that stuff again without thinking of being in labor), pressed on my back through my little bit of back labor, and giving me bites of granola bar.

Around noon, I was bored. Sure, I had to concentrate through the contractions, but they were still only coming every 3-4 minutes. Pam had just done a cervical check and I was only 6 cm dilated. I know, I know, only 6 cm, more than halfway and better than 4 cm, but I wanted be more like an 8. I really wasn't having a hard time coping with these contractions. I was just focusing on my breathing and letting my whole body relax. I was like, “This isn't so bad.” and I kind of wanted to get to the part that everyone warns you about, the “OMGoodness, good CRAP!” part, just to get it over with. Haha, silly me.

So I blogged. At the time, I had a Momaroo/Xanga account, so I just updated my bloggy friends, telling them that I was finally in labor, had been since last night, and was at 6 cm.  Shortly afterwards, things finally started feeling more serious. Meaning, the contractions were getting a lot harder and much closer together. I also started feeling shaky and like I was going to puke. In fact, JD Man grabbed a container and I was all set to vomit, down to mentally telling myself I could go ahead and throw up. My mouth started watering and everything. And then after a half a minute of waiting, the urge would go away and I would feel better. This happened several more times before G was born and I was so wishing I could just go ahead and throw up. I'd read that vomiting often helps women dilate because of the Sphincter Law- when they let go and relax up top, their cervix also relaxes and often opens up another cm or two. But no such luck for me. Then again, since I was all relaxed and ready to puke, maybe my body didn't actually need to throw up, maybe I gained a half a centimeter or two just by preparing myself to throw up.

JD Man remembered for me that these were all signs of being in transition and that made me very happy. Maybe I would have this baby before it got dark again. For some reason, after laboring all night, the thought of actually giving birth while it was still daylight buoyed me.  Just before 2 pm on Sunday, the 28^th, I was checked and was at 7 cm. Yay! This was more like it, both the progress and the intensity. Around 2:30, Pam offered a narcotics shot to take the edge off of the contractions and maybe help me get a little sleep. She didn't pressure me, just told that I was doing a great job without it but wanted me to know that she had it and would give it to me if I felt I needed it. At that point, I told her that I didn't want it, but would keep it in mind if, by the next check, I hadn't progressed.

And that's how I got through the remainder of my 6-hour transition stage- telling myself, that maybe, if wasn't any further along in an hour or whatever, I would go ahead and get the shot. I never got it, but setting those small goals really helped. Now I'm really glad that I didn't get it- if I remember correctly, the shot was Demerol or something similar and since then I've read stories and had friends who got that stuff and said it made them dizzy and just plain made them feel drunk, without really doing too much for the contractions. No thank-you! Things were blurry enough without it!

But yes, transition. That was when I realized that this is what all the fuss is about. I can't even tell you how long or how far apart my contractions were, but it didn't seem like I got a break. It was quite literally a blur of trying to breath slowly, deeply, letting go, wanting to freak out and run away from it, but knowing that any step in that direction would be futile and make things that much more painful and so forcing myself to accept the intensity. JD Man was wonderful, looking into my eyes, breathing with me. His eyes were my focal point. If he glanced away or if I got the feeling that he was zoning out (I mean, come on, he was tired too) and looking through me, rather than at me, I would breath/gasp/whisper, “Lookatme, lookatme, lookatme!”  

When I said I wasn't getting a break between contractions, I meant it. I couldn't tell where one contraction ended and the next one started- they all seemed to run together. I could only tell when they were peaking. Now, I know they weren't solid because there was a point when Pam checked the fetal heart tones with the Doppler and told me that I could breath normally because the contraction was over, but I couldn't tell. I now realize that the sensation of my cervix dilating was far more painful for me than the contractions were. I have no idea if the cervical pain had anything to do with the fact that my water had broken 12+ hours before and G's head was pressing down against my still dilating cervix with no water bag to cushion it, or if it was totally normal and didn't realize that there's more painful things involved in labor than just the contractions. I just know it hurt. It wasn't like it ebbed and flowed as much as contractions. It was very constant, always there but becoming much more intense during a contraction. There were several contractions during which I felt myself beginning to pass out- everything started getting dark and fuzzy. And then I'd breath and things started to clear up again.

During the first several hours of hard transition labor, I mainly soaked in the tub. Hot, hot water with an equally hot washcloth pressed to my lower stomach/pelvic area seemed to be the only thing the halfway helped with the pain.   After awhile, the fact that the water kept getting cold annoyed me, so I started to alternate between the toilet and the tub, with a few contractions on the bed. It became a mental exercise to just get through this contraction before thinking about the next one.

Somewhere in that space of hazy time, I was checked again and was something like an 8 ½, but I can't remember exactly when or how far from the end that was.  I remember sitting on the toilet, sweating it out, watching it get dark and thinking that, yes, I would be in pain forever and I couldn't just do this one contraction at a time thing anymore. That's when I started into the mental part of transition. Up until that point, I'd had confidence that I could do it. Sure it was hard and painful and required a lot of concentration, but I was dealing. But now I was pretty sure I could not do it anymore.   Pam's other assistant, Debbie, had come around 10:30 that morning and she was the best during that transition stage. She was the only one who could rub my back just so while I was sitting there on the toilet.

Funny toilet/transition story: after laboring there for awhile, either I wanted to get up myself, or someone else had suggested it, but I couldn't because my feet and lower legs had fallen asleep! Please tell me that I'm not the only person this happens to if sitting in the toilet for too long. So between contractions, I had to bounce and move my feet to get the blood flowing so I could stand up.

After the toilet, I just stood and rocked in the doorway between our bedroom and the bathroom, hanging onto the door frame. It was at this point that I think I actually said, “Ok, now I know why women get the epidural. Now I know why women schedule their c-sections!” And then right after that I asked, or rather, begged Pam to just give me the shot she had offered me several hours earlier. She said that I had progressed too far and that I would be pushing in just a little bit. I honestly did not believe her. I figured if it had taken this long to “only” dilate this far, it would take another couple of hours to be complete. And if the rest of those few hours were going to be this intense, nope, I couldn't do it. Of course, this was all very classic late-transition stage thinking and feelings.

It was probably not even 5 minutes later when I asked her for the shot the second time and again she said no, but that she wanted to go ahead and check me again and see where I was at. So I laid down on the bed and she checked and announced that I was a good 9.75 cm, basically there was just a lip. Can't remember if it was anterior or posterior though. But she did tell me that I could go ahead and give a little push with the next contraction. I began to just put a little “oomph” and grunt into that next contraction and, lo and behold, within 30 seconds I had my first pushing contraction!

People, let me tell you: that was the second best moment out of the whole experience, G coming out being the absolute best, of course. So much of the pain went away and it felt so, honestly and truly, good! It felt like I was actually doing something when I pushed and with the pain mostly gone, yeah, it pretty much just a “wow” feeling. I guess I really can say that I do know a little bit about what they're talking about when I hear that stuff on orgasmic birth. Sure, it's totally, totally different, but pushing a baby down and orgasm share a lot of the same feelings and I can very much see why women would compare the two. Of course, I would never claim that I actually had an orgasmic birth, but I think I got a little glimpse of the whole idea.

With my first push, everything happened kind of fast. Pam had JD Man hold one leg for me and Debbie held the other. I'm not sure if it was on the first or second push that they were able to see G's head, but it was pretty quick into the pushing process. I remember somewhere along the line, Debbie and Pam looking at the clock (it was a few minutes after 7 pm) and commenting that we'd have a baby by 8:30-9:00, since a 1 ½ – 2 hour pushing stage is very normal for first-time moms. Hehe, I showed them. It only took a few pushes until he was crowning.

Now, I know a lot of women who have never given birth before think that the whole crowning and baby-coming-out-of-your-vagina thing is the most painful part of giving birth vaginally, but it is totally not. Sure, it's intense and sharp and there's a reason it's called “the ring of fire”, but it's also very short- seriously, it lasts for a few seconds. At least, it did for me.  I had always been told and read that when the baby started crowning I would be told to stop pushing for a little bit to allow the perineum to stretch and help prevent tearing. Well, Pam never told me to stop. During that burning feeling, I was fully expecting to be told to stop and pant or something, nobody ever said anything. I credit the olive oil that Debbie was massaging into my perineum and pushing exactly the way I felt I needed to push what was got me through crowning with no major tears. It was a fight between pushing like crazy just to get the head out and stop the burning, and holding back from pushing because I felt like I was going to tear. Also, there was some high-pitched screeches that I think acted as a “relief valve” (I'm a farmer/mechanic's wife, what can I say?) for some of my pushing energy- making noise during pushing means you won't push with as much force, which is exactly the way it was designed to be. This was the only time during the whole labor that I actually made any kind of noise resembling screaming- this to the people who think that unmedicated labor means screaming your head off. No, in most cases a lot of low moaning and humming and maybe a few shrieks are all that are involved in the noise department.

But anyways, yeah, that's my theory as to why I didn't tear. Not that I think there's never a time and place for panting and not pushing to allow for tissue to stretch, but it's what seemed to work for me. Or I could go with the theory that some women tear and some women don't and I just happen to be one of the lucky ones.

So anyways, here I was, laying flat on my back, legs in the air- definitely not the position I'd imagined myself pushing in, since it's generally considered the least helpful position for pushing a baby out and I always just figured I'd squat or something. But it got the job done and I'm pretty sure that Pam would have been fine with a different position, had pushing lasted any longer.

So I finally (because it felt like a long time, even though I'm sure it was only 30 seconds or so) eased his head out and then pushed once more to get his body out. Pam caught him and within seconds I sat up, asked, “Can I have him?”, and then pretty much grabbed G out of her hands. It actually makes me laugh now when I think about it because I can't believe I actually just grabbed him from her. Seriously, she had just caught him and held him up when all of a sudden I took him. And then I realized what I had done and apologized for being so rude. Everyone just chuckled and told me that I had earned that baby and I could most definitely have him.

And yes, I referred to him as a “him” from the very first minute, even though we hadn't found out the gender beforehand. I hadn't gotten a real good look when Pam had held him up and as soon as I had him in my arms, Debbie put a towel over him to keep him warm, so I asked, “Is it a G? Is it a boy?” and JD Man told me that yes, our intuitions had been right (he and I had both had very strong hunches that G was a boy during the entire pregnancy) and we did indeed have a G (it would have been a D had he been a girl). He was born 8 minutes from my first pushing contraction. So much for 8:30-9:00!

And then we just sunk into the fog that comes with meeting your new little person. G cried as soon as he was born, so there were no concerns there.  I'm pretty sure Pam did his Apgar scores without taking him, because I know I held him for awhile after he was born. So we just sat there and looked at him. I remember being in a bit of shock with the thought that, wow, I had a baby! And this right here was my baby! And I can't believe this is my baby that just came out of me! I honestly can't remember what was going on around me during those first few moments. I'm sure Pam and Debbie were cleaning me up and somewhere along the line Pam had JD Man cut the umbilical cord.

On the phone with Cuz K.

The first non-G thing I thought about was my poor 18-year-old cousin who had called less than a half hour before he was born and I was pretty sure she was worried for me since she knew when I had gone into labor and was probably expecting a call for a long time already. So I called her and told that he was here, just to ease her mind. She happened to be at a friend's house just a few miles away and I told her it was fine if she came over- because I totally wanted to show my baby off!

Shortly after I hung up, Pam had me give a little tiny push to deliver the placenta. I think at this point, Debbie took G to do all that belly palpating and joint swiveling. This was also when I asked Pam if I had torn at all, as that had been one of my biggest fears and I was sure I had since I hadn't ever quit pushing. She said that there were no tears, all I had amounted to the equivalent of a brush burn, or a “skid mark” in birthy language. She said, “No, you honestly don't even look like you just had a baby!” And this was within 30 minutes of giving birth. You have no idea how good that felt to be told that. In fact, I have no idea why that felt so good or why I took it as a compliment, but for some reason I felt quite proud of myself and my intact, never-given-birth looking lower regions. And I don't even have a husband who was anywhere near concerned about what I would look or feel like after birth. Yeah, go figure...

I think Cuz K arrived right after Debbie washed me up and helped me into a clean, unsweaty nightie, because I'm pretty sure I was mostly cleaned up by the time K poked her head into the bedroom. Then, a couple of my aunts and my Oma showed up. Somewhere in there, I stood up for the first time after birth and Debbie filled a peri bottle with warm water and had me do that first, blankity-blank HORRIBLE pee. YeeeeeeeOOOOOW! Doesn't matter whether you tear or not- those toilet trips in the first few days after birth BUUUUURN like, well, a really bad thing!  While I was in the bathroom, putting on my lovely adult-size diaper, Pam and Debbie finished bathing and dressing G and changed the bedsheets, getting rid of all the dirty Chux pads. They actually did an amazing job of covering everything with Chux before the birth- I don't think there was any nastiness on the old set of sheets we'd put on the bed in preparation for the birth- the Chux caught it all.

So, all cleaned up, I climbed into my lovely fresh bed (I'd been awake for 36 hours, almost straight, at this point) and cuddled up with my baby, my hubby and a bunch of my female relatives around, on the hugest high of my LIFE! Seriously, that cocktail of hormones that kicks in after birth, when it's not impeded by all kinds of drugs running through the body, is addicting! I look forward to giving birth again just for that insane, blissful high! Of course, getting another baby out of the whole deal would be nice too. ;)

My Oma and aunts had come over because they'd been waiting and waiting to hear what was going on and one of my aunts was only in the area for Christmas and was heading back to Indiana the next morning. I was glad to have them there. They fixed me up a little plate of cheese and ring bologna and crackers and oohed and aahed. And it was just so fun to show off my little man.

My dear MIL

JD Man's mom came over about the same time (she lived just down the road) and ended up staying the night so we wouldn't have to be alone a newborn the very first night- which was awesome!

I am including a few pictures with this post, but not very many because, sadly, since I'm the photographer in the family, these are the only ones I have from directly after the birth. Note to self: definitely get someone to take photos during my next labor and delivery!

Catchin' some rays at 2 days old, warding off the yellow tinge.

I can totally say I've learned some things and had my opinions changed a bit since I've given birth myself.  I know exactly why women get epidurals or just want to skip the pain altogether. Even though it's not a bad kind of pain that tells you something is wrong, such as breaking your arm, it is intense. I do, however, believe that given the knowledge of how to naturally deal with labor pain, having freedom of movement, as well being surrounded by people who support a woman's body and her desire to give birth naturally, that a very high percentage of women with uncomplicated, normal, low-risk pregnancies could give birth without pain relief. I very firmly believe that. I don't believe that line, “Well, just wait until you go into labor and see what you can handle before you rule out an epidural” because almost every single woman will get to a place in her labor where she honestly doesn't believe she can handle one more contraction. But that's the beauty of it- you do handle that next contraction and the next one and the next one, until you get to that awesome pushing stage and even more awesome birth and post-birth high! You do what you were absolutely sure you couldn't do and it feels amazing. That's why so many women who give birth naturally say afterwards that they feel like they can accomplish anything after that.

But please don't think I look down my nose at anyone who gets the blessed epi. I've been there and I can honestly not say that I wouldn't have got the epidural had I been in the hospital. With that kind of relief just down the hall during that kind of intensity? Yeah, I don't think so.  Particularly if I'd been hooked up to an IV and strapped down with a fetal monitor and not able to move very well. That's if I wouldn't have a c-section for “failure to progress,” as would have very likely happened had I been in the hospital.

Do I think that home birth is right for everyone? Absolutely not. There are certain hormones that come into play and can make labor progress or stop completely, depending on how safe and comfortable the mom feels. If a mom is giving birth at home because someone else wants her to and she's freaked out, it's not going to work very well. Every woman needs to give birth where she feels is right for her- not because of what other people are telling her, but what her gut is telling her. Be that hospital, birthing center, or at home.  I personally would be terrified to give birth in a hospital, just because I know how once you do one intervention, others can quickly follow and things can go downhill really fast from there. And I don't know that I would have the guts, especially during labor, to say no or to stand up for myself.

No, I don't believe birth is all about the experience- I'll do whatever is truly necessary for the health and well being of my baby. But I do think that the births of our children are something we as women carry with us for the rest of our lives and when both we and our care providers trust our bodies to handle the pain and get the job done, women and babies reap the benefits.  But I guess I'm an all or nothing person. I want to have the full experience. I want to work hard, at anything, not just birth, just so once I've accomplished it, I can “shoot for the good feeling” (anybody remember that line from 'The Andy Griffith Show'?) and feel really rewarded for the work and effort I put in.

And that, my dear ladies (and the odd man reading this), is the birth story of my first child, G. Oh, and my opinions too. So sorry it's so foreverly long. I did edit. At least, I tried.

16 months, Spring '10