Birthday, Birth Day

Well, let's get that out of the way. My leaf platter was out of the kiln and that is how it turned out. I kind of like it. Some parts more than others. Pottery was good today. I took a bag of green beans in to share and that was fun. I mean, it was fun to share. And I worked on my hibiscus and got to chat with Lizzie and the other folks and I just really, really enjoy that part of my week. I am so damn slow, doing this glaze painting but I really enjoy every minute of it. 

You can't tell but there are three gradients of color there, going from center out. I really wish the colors were more true to what they'll look like when they come out of the kiln but they just aren't and I'm not experienced enough to be able to get a very accurate idea so I am just playing and hoping and seeing what happens. 

I ended up giving the leaf platter to Hank for his birthday because why not? And he seemed to like it fine, probably mostly because his mama made it. 

Oh, it was a fine birthday luncheon! When I walked into the restaurant, I was so thrilled to see that Billy had come. I have not seen Billy in over a year and by god, my heart just leapt at the sight of him. For those of you who have heard about Billy many, many times but don't really know who he is, here's a picture.

Do I look happy? 
Yes. Yes I do. And behind me you can see Owen who is carrying the cake in the new cake box for Hank and Rachel to take home and my leftovers which I would have totally forgotten if he hadn't picked them up for me. 
I have so many sweet fellas in my life. 

And here I am with my sweet birthday boy, the baby who made me a mother, the first true love of my life. 

All day I've been thinking of how it was indeed fifty years ago that I birthed this child and how every bit of what I went through to do it was suddenly made not insignificant in the least, but absolutely appropriate to what I felt holding him when he finally got here. Since he was my first baby, I was stunned beyond words at what my labor felt like. I had no idea that it would hurt the way it did. I know that some women do not experience labor as being so painful but I think the general consensus is that it is indeed a powerfully mind and body altering experience and I have to tell you that anyone who labors without asking for pain relief of one kind or another in a situation where such relief is available is a stronger woman than I am. If I had had the option for something to help ease what I was feeling, I would have gotten on my knees and begged for it. 
And quite honestly, I felt that way during every labor. 
With Hank, I labored at home in our little apartment for 24 hours with my three friends who had aspirations of being midwives, one who had had two babies at home already, delivered by her husband, and one whom the local paper had written an article about because she had used the LaMaze method (in the hospital) to have her baby without pain relief which was such an unbelievable thing in that day and time that it was indeed newsworthy. 
And we had all read "Spiritual Midwifery" by Ina May Gaskin from cover to cover at least fifty times and there we were. None of us quite sure what we were doing and one of us quite sure that she would never, ever, no matter what, go through this again. 
Now I have to point out that the hospital was only about ten blocks away so I could easily have asked to be taken there and yes, I did have an OB whom I had gone to for all of my prenatal care although I had not even hinted at the fact that I was planning on having a home birth. He would have kicked me out of his practice in a red hot second if I had. 
But I hung in there for all those hours, through a day, through a night, and into the next day before I finally said, "I cannot do this any more," and my then-husband drove us to the hospital by which time I was so actively pushing that the nurse in L&D, laughing, told me that if I didn't get up on that bed I was going to have the baby on the floor because yes, I was squatting on the floor and I told her that I did not care if the baby was born on the floor. And I did not. 
And very, very soon, he was there, although not born on the floor. 

I have spent a lot of time in my life pondering about why labor has to be so painful. I mean- it seems insane that we have evolved so that it happens like this and yes, yes, I know. Human babies have big heads and human mothers' pelvises have a hard time accommodating them but come on! 
And what I have come up with is that the pain has its own purpose. Anything that takes so much effort and which can be so agonizing has to be of great value. At least that's what it seems like to me. And also, when I was in labor the idea that a real baby was involved in this whole experience completely left my mind. Oh sure, intellectually I knew that was the hoped for result but honestly? 
I was far too deep into beast mode to consciously understand what that meant. 
And then- the very, very second my baby was born and held up for me to see, the pain was gone. Completely. And for me, the sight and the reality of the presence of the child was so deeply associated with the cessation of pain that it was almost as if the baby had saved my life. Had restored me to living. In his birth, I was reborn. 

And if that's not a damn good way to begin a lifetime of maternal love and devotion, I don't know what is. 
So. That's what I have come up with. It's a one of my theories and honestly, I think it's a good one. 

I'm sure I've written about all of this many times. But that's okay. It's important stuff and after fifty years I am still processing it all. The pain, the work, the knowledge I gained about the strength of my body which I had no awareness of at all, and then the absolute unexpected melting into a new sort of love, a new sort of relationship- I am as in wonder at it now as I was then. 

And by the way, there was no "rooming-in" in those days. Babies went to the nursery and mothers only got to see and hold them for feeding and I was NOT HAVING THAT and we signed out against medical advice and went home that afternoon and being home with my baby, in my own bed, able to hold and nurse and gaze at my child as long and as closely as I wanted without regard for sterile procedures (they were big on that then) and hospital schedules was the most heavenly thing I could ever have imagined and I swear to you that when friends came over, that very night, to meet our baby, the two little girls of the family tickled baby Hank and cooed at him and smiled at him and he laughed. 
He laughed the night he was born. 
I am not making this up. 

So. There you go. Fifty years ago and obviously, so much of that day is still so very present in my mind and in my heart and I have no doubt it will always be so until the day I die. 

Of course I haven't even begun to discuss what sort of a child Hank was, or how he has grown to be the the amazing man he is although I have talked about those things many, many times. I think that Rachel said it best though, on her Facebook post this morning. 

The world had no idea how lucky it was the day you were born. You are the light of my life, and you light the path for all those around you. You radiate Queer Joy in the most beautiful way possible. You are a loyal, kind, caring, generous partner, son, brother, uncle, friend, community member, person. You are one of the best of us. I love you with all my heart and all my me! Happy happy birthday, my love!

Thank you, Rachel.

Here's a few more pictures from today.

Brothers since forever. 

The cake! 

The family. Or, at least a lot of us. That's Lindsey on the right, there. She's another one of our tribe. Mr. Moon wasn't in the picture because he'd already left to go back to the hospital to do more attending to Tom's situation. And of course, we so miss the Weatherfords but they will be back to celebrate all of the birthdays in September of which there are many. 

Happy Birthday, Hank My Love, my amazing darling boy. Thank you for being born to me. I think we were a match made in heaven. 

Mama