All the things I forgot I remember,
too.
I just think that I wish they were
clearer memories, but maybe that’s why I think I don’t remember them because
they aren’t clear, and isn’t that what constitutes a memory versus a lived
moment? It has not become a memory yet. It is current and forming in
consciousness and can contain great poetry or dull empty space. Just a process and it doesn’t matter what it will
transform into as a memory, it just is what it is, without expectation. The
memory is laden with some sort of emotional expectations about the quality of
the experience and it can be, for me, laced with romance or triviality. Value
or destitute and all those things contain their own layers of meaning as
memories which shape the quality of the life that I have lived and hope to
continue living.
The memory that I am remembering
now is my daughter sitting in the bathtub-right now. She is singing. It is the
day before her 11th birthday and 11 years ago today at 5:00 I was
sitting here in this same room having fairly intense contractions. Beginning at
12:00 they started and I was lying on the bed. Every 5 minutes, and they hurt.
I was still trying to decide if I wanted to go with a natural child birth, but
was fine with not and felt appreciative of the Bradley Method classes we took
to cope with the pain. I was told that this pain was “good pain” meaning that I
was not in pain because I was injured. I was in pain because my body was
preparing to deliver a largish baby from the inside of my body to the outside
of my body through fairly tight quarters.
I visualized one of the Bradley
books and the diagram of lines which resembled the lines on a globe marking
zones (look up what they are called because I cannot remember). The image would show me that I am flexible
and plastic and nature designed me to preform this function of childbirth. It
was going the way it was supposed to go for me as it had for women centuries
before me and will for women reaching
far into the future. This is how the female body works.
Don’t forget.
Yesterday, my daughter was asking
about tampons and if I ever used them. I haven’t had my period in over 8 years
because I had an oophorectomy (surgical removal of ovaries) when I was 44 and
learned that I am BRCA 1 positive- which made me high risk for the breast
cancer I had at 43, and the ovarian cancer I could get if I did not remove my ovaries.
So, it has been a while since I needed a tampon or pad, and I was never a fan
of tampons because, as I told my daughter in a non-scary way, that I used to
bleed a lot so the tampons were not very useful.
“Maybe when I get my period, I will
bleed a lot like you did.”
“Maybe. I didn’t get terrible
cramps, which is good.”
“I don’t want to use a tampon.”
“That’s okay. You don’t have to.”
“Did you use them when you went
swimming?”
“Yes, they were good for swimming.”
So our conversation went like that
and, I think, made for a good memory for both of us.
I hope so.
It is now 7:47 PM and 11 years ago
today we caught a cab and headed down to NYU's Tisch Hospital. Like tonight, there was a lot of snow on the
ground. It was cold and we staggered to Second Avenue and hailed a cab. There
were mounds of snow piled up on either side of the avenue and when the driver
stopped for a red light I would feel the contraction seize me. The driver was
nice, but a little aloof, and I think just wanted to get us to the hospital
ASAP.
Before we left we contacted my
OBGYN, Audrey, who had completed several decades of birthing boot camp. When we
spoke on the phone she said, “you sound ok, which means you are probably not
ready to come in. “
A few hours later and closer and
more painful contractions changed her tune.
“I’ll meet you at NYU.”
Before we left we tried a pain
relief technique in the bathtub. The warm water helped, but not enough.
I am a weenie when it comes to
pain.
When the cab pulled up to the
entrance to the hospital I walked into the lobby and felt like falling onto my knees. No one
came to me with a wheel chair rushing to assist me-and to get one felt more
difficult than hailing a cab during rush hour.
A pregnant woman in labor was a
dime a dozen at NYU, evidently.
No biggie.
When we got a chair and made it up
to our floor there was no place to put me. I went into a temporary space.
Audrey arrived and I was 6cm
dilated.
Not bad.
I was ready for the epidural and
the man came and we did the drill and immediately I felt better. Hooked, wired
and plugged in, this birth was not natural from that point forward and I was
just fine with that. When they broke my water I felt like I was in the Monty
Python movie, The Meaning of Life. The absurdity of monitors, doctors and
fluids was hilarious.
Pain free!
Eventually, we were taken to our
birthing room and I remember waiting for hours.
Finally, she arrived. I was on all
fours, thanks to Bradley for the idea, and I pushed. I didn’t see her come out,
but Greg did and was amazed seeing her head popping out of my rear end. The
rest followed and she was placed in my arms.
More beautiful than I could ever
imagine, and as ubiquitous as this sounds, I swear, there has never been a more
beautiful baby. There never will be.
It was the happiest day of my life.
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