My fabulous wife is the most amazingly spectacular human being who ever existed. I mean, I thought I knew that already, but no. No, no, no. You know those times that in a fraction of a second completely and irrevocably change the rules of existence? Well, before Friday I thought I did too. Then my naivete became instantly laughable.
A while back I wrote a post rather dismissive of "the transformative 'Aha!' moment". Today, I can confidently say that my thesis at the time was simply absurd. In that instant when the midwife flung a funk-laden newborn onto his mom's chest, everything changed. And I'm not saying that for the sake of hyperbole. I really do mean everything changed.
Let me tell you about Friday.
On Friday I saw d.w. go through the hardest thing she has ever done, and probably (hopefully!) the hardest thing she will ever have to do. Ten hours of intense, overlapping contractions with a baby trying to get out the hardest way possible.
He opted out of tucking his chin down, instead deciding it would be way more fun to come out with his head at its widest possible diameter. And this kid has one big ass head. So big, in fact, that he doesn't fit any of the little newborn hats we bought him. He's already in the 3-6 month ones.
Ouch.
He also decided to spend nearly all of d.w.'s pregnancy positioned correctly, flip posterior a few days before birth, and finally twist around 90 degrees to come out transverse at the very last minute, defying all rules of anatomy, midwifery, and logic.
Double ouch.
This kid was in such a bad position, in fact, that it took two and a half hours of incredibly hard pushing for him to make it out. Had we been at a hospital, d.w. probably would have had a cesarean, or at the very least a round of pitocin and a vacuum extraction. But she was relaxed in her own bed in her own home, with only her mother, husband, and midwife in attendance. As a result he was happy as a clam in there, with perfect heart tones the entire time.
So intead of quitting she pushed. And pushed. And pushed. She pushed until her eyes were bloodshot and sweat was pouring down her face. And then she kept pushing.
Until there lay our baby boy, lustily wailing the way only a newborn can. In an instant, we were parents. The entire equation changed. And now I can't fathom life without this beautiful baby boy.
And I will never think of d.w. the same way again. She did something I would never in a million years be able to do, and she never complained, she never yelled, she never gave up. She went far into herself, and focused on the job she needed to do.
And she did it. She did it. The midwife remarked in astonishment afterward, "Look at that head. I just can't believe what you did. I mean, that was the toughest push I've had in years. You know, you are one incredible woman."
Couldn't have said it better myself.