Coop_ A Year of Poultry, Pigs, and Parenting - Michael Perry [61]
“Why don’t you come around front now, Mike,” says Leah. Mom takes my place at Anneliese’s shoulders. I’m feeling relatively calm, and thinking clearly enough to actually recall something from one of the books Anneliese had me read: OK, yes, this is the part where it is important for me to maintain eye contact with Anneliese, to pay attention to her breathing, and I should…
“Would you like to hold the baby’s head?”
Fhuzawhaaa?!?!
But yes! There it is, the head crowning already. Leah’s hands are strong and steady as she guides mine down to the slimy little skullcap that fits perfectly to my palm. Leah is coaching Anneliese to push between contractions, but the coaching doesn’t last for long, because the head is rapidly emerging, and what I will remember forever is the fierceness of my beautiful wife as she made that final push, her teeth set, her animal cry and her blue, blue eyes locked dead onto mine and suddenly the baby was out and in my hands beneath the water.
From my reading about water births, I know there is no rush, but looking down through the water at the creature in my hands, instinct takes over and I try to lift it to air. Anneliese’s eyes pop wide. “Hey, that’s still attached,” she says. The baby is still submerged. I hear Leah’s voice, calmer, gentler: “It’s fine, it’ll be OK, just wait,” and she presses my hands back down.
I’m only half OK with this. I trust Leah and her apprentice, and I know Anneliese is at ease, but there is a mighty strong part of me that wants that baby above the waves and drawing oxygen. When Leah finally nods, I hand the baby—more carefully this time, with an eye to the cord—up to Anneliese, and she takes it to her breast with an ineffable motherly oh! and then the slimy blue bundle cuts loose with a wail in the outraged key of life and I feel a flush of relief.
Donna brought Amy up the stairs just as the baby cleared the water. Now Anneliese turns the infant to verify what she has felt, and yes, we have a little girl. “You’ve got a little sister, Amy,” she says, and any trace of trepidation washes away in the wide smile that breaks across Amy’s face. I’m tickled about this. For months Amy has been saying she wants a sister, and then very dutifully tacking on, “but a brother would be good too.” So it is wonderful to give her the gift of a sister.
I move back around behind Anneliese and now we are all gathered: Leah kneeling beside the tub in her scrub top and gloved hands, the apprentice also in gloves and wearing her Midwifery Today T-shirt, my mom standing smiling in her long skirt, Donna and Jaci in the stairwell leaning over the rail, Amy still in her wood-gathering sweatshirt with one arm around me, and there at the center of it all, Anneliese holding the baby to her breast. Sunlight is streaming through the window, unimaginably bright to the baby I suppose, even behind her squeezed-tight eyes.
We linger around the tub. Donna kneels beside me and greets her new granddaughter. Mom tells the story of how when I was born I scuffed my nose during passage, and when the nurse—a battleship matron—dangled me for all to see, Mom took one look at my abraded schnozz, laughed, and said, “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer!” at which point the matron drew me back protectively and gave Mom a stern talking-to.
I palpate the strong pulse of the cord. Jaci circles the tub taking photographs. In this digital age we get to check them out right away, and I am surprised to see Anneliese and I both have flushed, rosy red cheeks. Amy watches closely as the baby tries to suckle, and I am happily flabbergasted at the sight of the infant’s lips twisting reflexively toward the target. In time Leah clamps the cord, and I am surprised at the tough feel of it when the shears cut through.
When Anneliese is ready, we move