The Greatest Load of Laundry

At our cozy little home on the lake, we have a pint-sized laundry machine and dryer squeezed into a cracker-jack box of a room. The small-sized loads that the machine will allow obligate me to do one load of laundry each day in order to keep up. No big deal, it's accessible and has become routine.

The third day following the arrival of Henry, I finally got around to doing a load of laundry. I opened the dryer door and mindlessly started pulling out material to get some folding done. I yanked the first item straight down to begin the fold, and had to catch my breath. Manly brown and white with sewn puppies, warm and soft from the dryer, and about the length of my forearm: Henry's first sleeper. I have had a baby boy! Picturing his little body fillling out the fabric as he slept in the next room, for some reason this nightly chore becomes an incredibly emotional first-time event. I remember doing Amelia's first load of laundry and being shocked by the euphoria; pulling out a river of tiny pink fabric pieces and savoring the fold of each one.

As I continued to fold the new little manly items mixed in with our usual clothes, I couldn't help but see this as a kind of personal welcoming ceremony that I was holding for Henry. There will only ever be one first load of laundry where your child's dirty laundry will get cleaned for the first time; and this is the Greatest Load of Laundry.

The Arrival of Henry: by Aunt Meg

7 pounds, 10 ounces

Dark thick hair.

Chubby little cheeks.

Quiet little cry.

Easy to love and hug.

He's my new crush: Henry.

And here's how we got him:

On Friday morning at 4:30 am, Heath called and told me, "it's time! I've been having contractions since 1:30, and am feeling like just like I did with Amelia. It's happening!". So, I jumped out of bed (looking fabulous) and headed straight up to Snohomish. On the drive up, I was hoping I wasn't "too late" and worried that I might miss the birth. Little did I know what lied ahead. 24 hours ahead...

Once I got to Snohomish, Amelia was up and at em', getting ready to spend the day with "gamma Tanya". Heath was watching tv, counting there her contractions every 5 minutes. Amelia left soon, and it was just Heath, me, and Grant. Waiting.

Around 9:00 am, we decided we should move this labor along, so I coordinated a jogging and jump and jack routine that lasted about 15 minutes. It was more of a laughing hysterically at Heather trying to do these things than the actual exercise, but it was a good distraction. Still, the contractions stayed the same frequency and intensity. It was getting a little tiring to watch, but, don't worry, I was okay. :)

We watched Jersey Shore and read some People mags for about 3 more hours. Still Heath's contractions didn't change. When she had contractions, we muted the tv, put the mags down, and counted throut it with her. After about 25 counts, th etv was unmuted and we resumed our convo about Jessica Simpson's life going down hill.

Then around 1:30 (a wee 12 hours of contractions for Heath), the contractions became more intense, the celeb gossip had come to a lull, and we decided we should get in the car and head to her midwife's home, where we better be havin' this baby.

So, the midwife checks Heath, to find that she is 2 1/2 cm dilated. You've got to be kidding me. This labor is going as slow as Krisi Alley's weight loss. Heath is in so much pain, and it doesn't quit. 2:30 rolls around, then 5:00, then 6:00. Heath is silent, exhausted, and her face showed excruciating pain. The midwife checked her again. She was only 3 cm. This is when I cried. I know, such a wuss. The contractions were never ending. I'd spend the last 13 hours staring into her pain-filled face, squeezing her hand, imagining her pain. She told me that "3 through 20" were the most painful, so it was during this time that my face mirrored hers. Not because I could feel her pain (I wished I could), but because I know her face (it's just like mine), and I know what every wrinkle meant. Pain. Exhaustion. Sometimes I just felt like she would be in labor for the rest of our life, and that absolutely nothing will ever be as horrible as watching her go through this. Oh ya, that's when I lost it.

From 6:00 pm to 10:00 pm, she continued contractions every 3-5 minutes. Grant and I held her hands while she squeezed and we took turns counting with her. He kissed her all the time, and sometimes she would smile when he did. I was so glad she had him. At 11:30ish, the midwife checked Heath again. She was still 3 cm. I couldn't believe my ears. All of this pain and no change. Then the midwife asked Heath if she would like her to break her water. Heath didn't hesitate. "Yes. Do it". She said calmly. After that, Heath kind of lit up for a second and had a look on her face that "IT'S GO TIME". And that's exactly what happened.

All of a sudden, Heath turned into the Incredible Hulk. With one push, she went from 3 to 6 cm. Another push, 6 to 9 cm. One more push, she was at 10 cm. Grant and I were cheering for her, she was so focused and so determined. No screaming, no yelling. Just totally focused. Three more pushes, and there was Henry.

It was a surprise gender, they didn't know what it was going to be. We were so tired and glad to be finished, it didn't matter what it was - we were just thankful Heath was finished. Both Grant and I agree, it could have been a monkey and we would have said, "great. let's go home".

So, that's my birth story. Henry is absolutely adorable, and Heath is amazing. I'm so glad I have a new baby to hold and am so happy to be Aunt Meg to this cute little guy.