Written by Rama Pfeiffer: I had the iPod Touch playing in the background this morning for Jaden and I; it was set to shuffle. He loves to look at it and point to it as he eats breakfast, wishing with all of his might that he could touch it. But alas, it sits propped up in the speaker in our window overlooking our table and out of his reach. So, everyday he points to it while he’s eating his breakfast…his lunch…and his dinner, hoping one day he can push the “buttons.”
After breakfast, I updated my status on FB and posted the article “Cheerios and Tuberose,” while Jaden played for a bit. When I finished I got up and went over to him and leaned down to pick him up with thoughts of his birth and his birthday fresh on my mind, he turns 1 today. The second I leaned over him Phil Collins’ “Take Me Home” began to play. “You have to be kidding me,” I said still leaning over as I looked up to the ceiling, as if God and I had this inside joke. The timing could not have been more apropos.
For those of you who don’t know, I had made an infinite playlist of songs ready to be played during what could be hours of labor. Little did I know we would only have an hour from the time we got to the birthing center to the time Jaden was born. And, out of all of the countless songs that could have played during my labor, my very short labor I might add, Phil Collins “Take Me Home” was the one. It will live in infamy in our lives as the song that brought Jaden into the world.
Every time I hear it a lump forms in my throat, tears well up in my eyes and I am transported back into time as if my body was there. I can sense everything, the feeling of being in the water, the warm glow of the candles burning next to me, the sound of music in the background as our birthing playlist played, and water swaying back and forth all around my husband Kyle and I, as I breathed in and then out again. I remember the grip of Kyle’s hands on my forearms, so strong as I leaned on him for support, and the out-of-body experience of being there but not really being there, as if I was outside of the situation looking down, but also fully present, and my heart’s fullness of hope and anticipation, excitement and exhilaration as my son’s departure out of me and into the world was unfolding with each moment.
A year ago today I would be going into labor 6 1/2 hours from now. I take this day to remember. Remember where I was, how I felt, and what took place one year ago. I remember Kyle asked if I wanted to walk the mall that evening. I said no, I wanted to stay in. In some way I think I knew. My water broke around 8:30 that night and the chain of events that would normally occur were on rapid speed. I tried to stand after my water broke and fell to the floor unable to walk; my contractions were coming fast and hard. As I crawled upstairs, the pain was almost unbearable, Kyle frantically packed the car and made phone calls as he tried to help me in the water, then out of the water, then back to my bed as I crawled out of it, then in it again because nowhere was a place where comfort existed for me. All I wanted was the birth I had envisioned, but this wasn’t it. I just wanted to get to the birthing center, to be in the tub and the water. Just get me to the water. Get me to Andaluz. And get me there he did.
The next ten minutes felt like the longest minutes of my life. Kyle practically carried me to the car. I stayed on all fours once I made it in the car with my rear facing the windshield, my knees on the seat and my head facing the back window. My eyes were closed as I focused and prayed the entire time he drove and I increased my tone when I started to have the urge to bear down seven minutes down the road. Kyle discovered a new definition of speeding as he raced through every green light (thank, God) from Beaverton to Naito Parkway and made in record timing. It was 10:00 pm. As I stumbled out of the car and fell to my knees, Joy (my midwife) came rushing out of Andaluz to meet us and they both counted and on three made me stand and walk as fast as I could to the birthing room as they lifted each of my arms. I don’t know how I got undressed and into the tub, but it happened quickly and without assistance. I just wanted the water.
And then…peace. It was as if time stood still for a moment and everything was right in the world. The lights were dimly lit, the candles were all around, my labor playlist was going and I was in the water. Warm water, magical water. Water that made all that was wrong dissipate and cease. I felt no pain. In fact, I felt good, really good.
Was this happening? The birth I always longed for, painless, and so very present that every second would be remembered with joy? It was happening. From then on I felt nothing but complete and utter ecstasy as my Love joined me in the water and we birthed our baby boy together. We laughed, cried even made jokes and held each other as we swayed back in forth in the water and waited for our son to come.
Soon after we hit the water, Phill Collins began to sing. “Take, take me home…” and I almost lost it. If it was any other moment I would have probably thought it was the cheesiest thing in the world, but it wasn’t any other moment, it was that moment. “Take, take me home,” it was as if it was Jaden’s anthem as I breathed him down slowly but with purpose. “Take, take me home, ” the song sang as I waited to see him, to lay eyes on my son for the first time. What would he look like? Feel like? “Take, take me home,” I remember as I thought his head was crowning and Joy told me to reach down and feel to see if he was there and I did, and he was. I will never forget that. Absolutely indescribable. My heart was overflowing. He came at 11:01 pm that night, all 8 lbs. 13 oz., and into his parents arms. He was home.
