{"id":53,"date":"2020-02-18T10:45:57","date_gmt":"2020-02-18T18:45:57","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/nebulous-oyster.flywheelsites.com\/blog\/?p=53"},"modified":"2023-08-28T09:14:42","modified_gmt":"2023-08-28T16:14:42","slug":"birthing-second-baby","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/jennifermargulis.net\/birthing-second-baby\/","title":{"rendered":"Birthing My Second Baby"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"IMy second baby is seven years old now. She and I spent the day together and she decided this afternoon she wanted a Web page. So we built her one in Dreamweaver. It seems a fitting time to post this column, a version of which was originally published in the Ashland Daily Tidings\u00a0<\/em>as part of my “Tales From the Crib<\/a>” series,\u00a0about the day my second baby was born.<\/p>\n

Birthing My Second Baby<\/strong><\/h3>\n

I assumed birthing my second baby would be exactly like my first.<\/p>\n

This idea was so implicit in my understanding of the world, and of myself as a mother, that I believed that our second born would weigh the same, look the same, have the same temperament, and come two weeks early, exactly like its sister.<\/p>\n

I was wrong.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t go into labor<\/a> with my second baby until three days after my due date.<\/p>\n

The journey to birthing my second baby started with contractions during the African dance section of toddler music class when Hesperus, my willful 19-month-old, had insisted I carry her.<\/p>\n

My best friend Sue and my husband James pretended not to be self-conscious about parading around the room without a small child to dance with and I boogied to the African beat with as much enthusiasm my miserably pregnant self could muster.<\/p>\n

On the way home in the car a contraction hit me full force. I leaned out the window and sucked in the February air. But I had had so many other contractions that I wasn\u2019t sure this one counted. So I ignored it.<\/p>\n

By the time we were back home, I was in full-fledged labor.<\/p>\n

\u201cCall me back if anything changes,\u201d the midwife insisted. I lay down. For two weeks we had the bed ready, sleeping uncomfortably on two sets of sheets with a plastic covering wedged between.<\/p>\n

The idea was you peel off the sheets that you labored on and the plastic covering protects the clean sheets underneath. But since I hadn\u2019t gone into labor James and I had been sweating on our sheets for fourteen days. I was too miserable about Sue being in town and no baby being born and being hugely pregnant to even consider removing the plastic.<\/p>\n

A contraction strong enough to get me out of bed<\/strong><\/h3>\n

I lay down on my side and another contraction hit me, strong enough to get me out of bed.<\/p>\n

\u201cJames,\u201d I called quietly. Our toddler was napping peacefully in her crib. Every day she and I practiced our noises, making ooos and ahhhs and grunting like constipated swine, so that she wouldn\u2019t be surprised when I was birthing my second baby and when the baby was born. I had two people on standby to come be with her in the house. But all of a sudden I knew I wouldn\u2019t call anyone.<\/p>\n

James came upstairs. Sue trailed him, looking at me tentatively. The contractions were coming steadily now.<\/p>\n

\u201cShould we call the midwives?\u201d James asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt doesn\u2019t hurt enough yet.\u201d I was adamant.<\/p>\n

I decided to take a bath and I stood under the hot water in the dark bathroom oohing and ahhing and letting the tub fill up with water. Between contractions I rested in the water. During the contractions I heaved my naked self up and hung from James, giving him all my weight as the pain intensified. Sue held my hand, her face green with concern. Hesperus woke up as I was getting out of the bathtub and Sue took her downstairs to play.<\/p>\n

Then the phone rang.<\/p>\n

\u201cHi Nick.\u201d<\/p>\n

It was my father.<\/p>\n

\u201cJennifer\u2019s in labor,\u201d James said, gesturing with his hand and pacing the room.<\/p>\n

A contraction hit me like a hurricane. \u201cJAMES,\u201d I knew I was screaming but I couldn\u2019t help it. \u201cGET OFF THE FUCKING PHONE!\u201d In the thirty-one years that I had known him, I had never once sworn in front of my father.<\/p>\n

\u201cUh, Nick?\u201d said James hurriedly, \u201cGotta go.\u201d<\/p>\n

Call the midwives!<\/strong><\/h3>\n

\u201cCALL THE FUCKING MIDWIVES!\u201d The contractions with this second baby were coming close together now, plowing into my body furiously.<\/p>\n

Twenty minutes after the midwives arrived<\/a> our daughter was born.<\/p>\n

Two days later, James held our fair newborn by the window in the flat, white winter light reflected from the snow. The baby\u2019s eyes were not blue like most newborn\u2019s, but grey\u2014pure, dove grey.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou have grey eyes, baby,\u201d James told her. \u201cAthena glaukopos<\/em>\u201d he said in Greek, reciting from the Odyssey he had read in college. \u201cGrey-eyed Athena.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her gray eyes made him think of the goddess of wisdom and war, the Greek patron of the arts who sprung from Zeus\u2019s head and guided Odysseus in clever misadventures on his journey home.<\/p>\n

We’d never even considered Athena. Yet I knew that was the only name this baby could have.<\/p>\n

\"Birthing

Birthing my second baby was nothing like birthing my first. Now that they’re older, they’re close friends. Every day takes a lifetime when they’re little little but the time goes by faster than you think.<\/p><\/div>\n

Published: November 9, 2008
\nLast update: August 28, 2023<\/p>\n

Related posts:<\/strong>
\nYou Know You’re a Crunchy Mom When (Take the Test)<\/a>
\nWelcome to the World, Precious Baby<\/a>
\nLearning to Love Pink<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

My second baby is seven years old now. She and I spent the day together and she decided this afternoon she wanted a Web page. So we built her one in Dreamweaver. It seems a fitting time to post this column, a version of which was originally published in the Ashland Daily Tidings\u00a0as part of […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":14217,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":""},"categories":[8275,5268,4],"tags":[227,9712,9713,9711],"yoast_head":"\nBirthing My Second Baby Wasn't Anything Like Giving Birth to the First<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"I thought birthing my second baby would be exactly like birthing my first. 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