Simon's Birthday, March 21, 2005

I scrambled through Babies”R”Us in a happy daze: Winnie-the-Pooh towels, changing table cover, quilted mattress pad, bunny receiving blankets, a 3-month one-piece suit with “I Love My Mommy” embroidered across the front. To my son Jay, I wondered aloud if my son-in-law Shane would feel slighted. “Hey, little boys love their mommies and that’s the way it is.” Jay insisted. Actually big boys love their moms too. I can feel the supportive power of my sons. If a person decides to give me a hard time or hurt me deeply, they are clearly finished in my sons’ eyes unless they make amends.

For the past month or so, I know I’ve been anxious, worrying that all would be well with my daughter Jess and her baby-to-be. Relatives and friends who are already grandparents had warned me that I would be overwhelmed with this new little member of our family. But nothing could prepare me for how I felt when that infant emerged from my daughter. The tears flowed down my cheeks and didn’t stop until the labor nurse wiped him off, wrapped him in a blanket, placed him on a warming tray and said in her matter-of-fact way: “Here’s your next job…keep an eye on him while we attend to your daughter.”

At Brigham and Women’s Hospital where Jess delivered Simon, I know they have tight security and a no nonsense policy about guests on the labor floor. But even though Jess and Shane had given permission for me to be with them, I did not expect to be in their room throughout eleven hours of labor and delivery.

When I arrived at the hospital around 11:00 a.m., labor was just beginning. Jess was able to snack on fruit, take walks in the hallway, and engage in light conversation. As the hours ticked by, her contractions got closer together and she began to wince in pain even though she was using the breathing techniques she had faithfully practiced. The nurses and I encouraged her to think about pain relief so she wouldn’t wear herself out. She needed enough energy to carry her through the evening. Jess has always had a high threshold for pain. She is someone who has withstood traumatic rock climbing and ski racing injuries.

As my daughter leaned in to her husband while she sat on a birthing ball (very similar to the large exercise ball I work out on at my gym) I had an intimate view into the strength of their relationship. She braced her body against his as each contraction peaked. At one point I inquired: “You know, I can step out an any time.” (I didn’t want to be like the houseguest who doesn’t know how to take a hint and leave.) But they found my presence soothing and helpful. So I held cold washcloths across my daughter’s forehead, rubbed her back, chatted calmly, brought her glasses of water and juice, and listened to the mix she and Shane had made of all their favorite songs. Although the labor room did not seem like the right place for her father, I missed my husband David. I felt like this was a huge milestone in our lives that we weren’t sharing. Every once in awhile I phoned him, we visited in the lobby waiting room when our son Aron arrived from New York, and I visualized David as I listened to U2, Springsteen, and the Beatles. Norah Jones’ “Come away with me” brought me back to Jess and Shane’s wedding; Cyndi Lauper’s “True Colors” recalled nine year-old Jess kicking a soccer ball in our backyard.

Eventually there was an epidural and not long after, two hours of pushing. Shane and I held Jessica’s legs and back to give her leverage so she could push her baby out. Later she told us she had focused on our faces. As her baby Simon’s head emerged, I know I was saying: “Oh my God, Oh my God.” To be viewing a birth up close was staggering; to be watching my daughter give birth was beyond words. It felt like a blessed honor. In that precious face, I saw generations of those who had come before him, Jess’ Great Nanny Sarah for whom he is named, Great Uncle Louis who always had a smile and a kind word.

It was already 10:00 p.m. and I knew Jess would be in her room on the nursery floor long after visiting hours had ended. At that point I began to beg her labor nurse. I knew it would be difficult enough for Jason and Aron who had already waited all day and into the night to see their nephew. But there was no way David could wait until 1:00 p.m. the next day to see his grandson, his daughter and his son-in-law. Finally I got the go-ahead to sneak him in. Not only are his photos wonderful, but he got to hug and hold Simon when he was barely 30 minutes old.