I know of a woman who was known to her grandchildren as "Big Momma." This was back in the 50's and 60's before 'big' took on it's negative overtones. But even in the late 60's, I thought it was a very unflattering Grandmother Name. How does one get a name like that? Was she tall, "big-boned" (as my mother would say politely). Was she the matriarch, the boss, loud; or maybe just full of big love for her family. Who knows. I never met her.
I did, however, call my mother's stepmom "Bunny," until the day that she tried to teach a toddling Steve Jr. how to safely play on the stairs. She was so sore from sitting on the steps and bumping down each one at a time over and over again, that she was forever renamed "Bunny Bumps." My stepmother is called "Granny Mom," "Granny Goose," "Goose," or "Goosey" by grands, great-grands, and beyond. My mother was "MoMo." All these names express a level of intimacy beyond the more formal "Grandmother."
Boomer friends and relatives who've become grandparents have chosen, or been assigned, names; and some are really fun. Dear friend Jo is now "Josie" to her new twin grandsons. My friend Diane is known as "Grandma D." A little boy in Sunday School told me that his "Honey" was picking him up from class. Every child in Texas who knows my friend Kelly calls her "MiMi." In a few short weeks, she'll get to introduce herself to her first natural-born grandson. Grandfather names are pretty special too. I know a "Doc" and a "Duke" and a "DoDo" and several "Poppi," but my fave is "Dude."
I'd be interested to know what Grandparent Name you're called by or know, because we're still working on ours here.
Because of one comment I made in a previous blog about 'this Gringa Granny,' someone suggested that "GG" would be a good name for me. Cecilia and Will thought that was a good possibility at first. Then C pointed out that GG in Brasil stands for "Extra Large." While I'm easily twice the size of Daniel's other grandmother, Vovo Dora, I really don't want to be the Brasilian equivalent of "Big Momma."
Will, Cecilia, and I have been trying out "GiGi," and I think it's working. In the long run, anything that Daniel wants to call me is perfect! The first grandchild usually gets that privilege. Just hoping to spend as much time with him (and any other grandchildren in the future?) as possible. It's in that time that names are engraved on the heart--even names like "Big Momma."
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Monday, February 27, 2012
Call Emily Post
My dear friend Jo is the first-time grandmother of twin boys Jack and Luke. Their original due date was the same as Cecilia's, but they made it here miraculously safe and sound about 4 weeks early. Jo's husband John, stepfather to the twins' Dad (follow that?), is enjoying all this baby stuff for the first time in his life. Corresponding with me via email from time to time, John, aka Poppi, usually basks in the glow of their latest visit to help with the boys.
One day he mused, "I wonder if it's rude to stare at the babies while they're sleeping?" Well, if that's rude, you'll have to call Emily Post on me too. And if you want to join me in Time Out for the Politely Challenged, here's a sleeping two-week-old Daniel.
One day he mused, "I wonder if it's rude to stare at the babies while they're sleeping?" Well, if that's rude, you'll have to call Emily Post on me too. And if you want to join me in Time Out for the Politely Challenged, here's a sleeping two-week-old Daniel.
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| Okay, I lied. He's not sleeping, but I wanted you to see his best impression of Grandfather Garcia (as Dora says). Also note the cut-off sleeveless 'wife-beater' Onesie. It's hot in Brasil! |
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| Happy Dreams |
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| Just about to drift off to dreamland in Mommy's arms. |
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| One last awake picture so you can see his pretty eyes. |
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| Baby Buddha drifts away. |
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| Long arms and legs all tucked up. |
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| Grandfather Garcia stirs in his sleep. |
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| Not bad, asleep in a hammock with a cooling breeze and the sound of waves outside the window. |
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| Little Man |
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| Who's in heaven?! |
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| Caught in the act of rudely staring at a sleeping baby. Guilty as charged, Emily Post. |
Friday, February 24, 2012
Rede Time
Today is Cecilia's Birthday!
But these are not Birthday pictures. The party won't be starting for a while, and who knows when the Gringa will get back to the computer to photoshop pix and blog about the party?
So here's a little slice of life from last week, before Daniel "found his voice."
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| Cecilia, Will, and Daniel enjoy some time in the rede. |
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| Daniel likes the hammock/rede. |
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| Cecilia Relaxing |
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| Daniel and His Toucan |
Thursday, February 23, 2012
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CECILIA!
Friday, February 24
At 8:30AM, after leaving a conspicuously placed note "be back soon--GG," I left a very quiet apartment on a birthday mission to get Cecilia a gift. Walking one block back and one block over to the Real Market, I was hunting and gathering goodies for Cecilia's birthday party. Kinda' felt like a Top Chef assignment, with pouty-lipped Padma Lakshi instructing, "Chefs, your challenge for today is to prepare appetizers to be served for a casual family pizza dinner tonight. You have no idea how many might come, or at what time you will be serving. Your challenge starts now."
I decided to look for wholesome snacks that could be munched while waiting for pizza delivery. How about antipasto stuff? C loves hearts of palm and olives; in the basket they went along with pickled jardiniere. The produce department had some fresh herbs that disappear from the bin by midday, so I was delighted to grab some things that looked really fresh and smelled fragrant green. Will and I like beets; the 9-inch long green beans looked good too. How about those big shell pastas? Bet I could find something to stuff in them.
This time when I went to the register and the lady said that one word that brought me to tears two weeks ago--entrega--I knew what she was asking me. "Do you want your groceries delivered?" Nice, but no thanks. If I'd had a meltdown with one missing vocabulary word, imagine how much fun we could have trying to give all the info necessary for them to successfully deliver the goods?!
The morning was fresh and breezy, and I had taken the long way to the store; but now, with seven plastic grocery sacks sagging in my grip, I was not stopping before I reached the apartment door. (Where were those dark-glassed, black SUV's that wait to sweep the Top Chefs back to their kitchen?) Slowly, I trucked my gathered foodstuffs two long blocks back to 291 Praia de Icarai. I hoped that somehow these weighted sacks would help the batwings on my upper arms disappear.
The front desk clerk pressed a button that opened the latch of the service entrance when he saw me pass the main entrance. Still chugging along, I made it to the service elevator and rejoiced to find it waiting for me to enter. One less time to put the bags down!
Note--the elevator doesn't move until you press your floor. Note, too--once the inner metal accordion door opens at your destination, the outside door does not open by itself, like the elevator doors do in America. So . . . on my way back DOWN with the groceries, the workman that got on at the 7th floor was a little puzzled when I stayed onboard at the main floor. A grin and shrugging shoulders have universal meaning. Again on floor 11, I dove through the outer elevator door, into the hall, and entered our sleeping apartment.
I had a pleasant day in the breezy kitchen, and by 5PM, the fridge was full of fresh pickled beets, blanched seasoned green beans, shells stuffed with fish and herbs, fruit salad. The jars of delicacies were chilling as well. Time to lay down for a pre-party rest.
Gringa is learning to pace myself a little better. The rhythm of get-togethers here in Brasil is very different from that in Texas. Clocks are, well, . . . absent. In Texas, a party/meal is usually planned for a specific time, say 7PM. It's polite for people to show up around 6-6:30, eat around 7-ish, visit, play games, or have coffee and dessert, then leave around 10 or so. After 5 weeks in Brasil, I've learned that a schedule is much more of a general vision here. In the first place, dinner is a meal served way past 8, or even 9, or even 10PM. People are invited, and whoever is able to come gets there when they arrive. Also, Cecilia told me that Brasilians consider it very rude to stay for just a short time--3-4 hours. So, a visit, party, or even just a family get-together usually lasts a minimum of 6 hours, no matter when it starts. Please don't misunderstand. I'm not being critical of the Brasilian way or the American way.
I've gained a new perspective on an interesting clash of cultures. I'm learning that clocks and schedules and my endless to-do lists aren't nearly as important as people. I'm very grateful for this new insight--that I need to loosen up when it comes to having things run 'on schedule.' There have been a couple of times since Daniel came home when I've needed to excuse myself from visitors and go to my room for a nap (or at least to lay flat on my back for a while). New grandmothering has depleted my hospitality skills, it seems. Or maybe the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. At any rate, I hope my new family and friends realize that my absences are not a reflection of rude American behavior, but rather a sleep-deprived 62 year-old with a kidney stone! (Probably TMI--sorry.)
So Cecilia's Birthday Party got started. While Daniel decided to keep the Birthday Girl engaged, the appetizers were well-received.
Not sure what time it was when the pizzas were ordered by phone, but Daniel and I had a date in the rocker while Cecilia, wearing a pretty white and yellow summer dress, left the bedroom. The party-goers cheered her entrance and chowed down together.
Vovo Dora and I played tag-team with the baby while Cecilia enjoyed her special night.
The pizzas were delicious, the company was mellow and fun. Love was apparent.
Don't know what I was expecting to be different about birthday parties in Brasil, but the only difference was the words to the Birthday Song. Same tune--B Portuguese lyrics sung twice with clapping. The cake ingredients were different from your basic Devil's Food or such. Dora brought a beautiful creation made of layers of vanilla sponge cake and passionfruit mousse, iced and decorated with a passionfruit glaze. (So glad this Top Chef candidate was not assigned a dessert, because we all would have missed this slice of heaven!)
Another special gift came by email early on the 24th. It was from Steve/Dad. When Steve was in the Navy for 6 years, one of the skills he perfected was talking very clearly in a voice that sounds just like Donald Duck. He used to talk that way to Steve Jr. in utero. And my Christmas present every year has been listening to him sing in Donald Duck-ese "The Twelve Days of Christmas." I laugh until my eyes sparkle so much I can't see straight. And so, Steve/Dad had recorded himself singing the Birthday Song in his best Donald Duck, and emailed the recording to Cecilia. While I won't link you to the video for fear of embarrassing my shy--yes, shy--hubby, I can tell you that Dora doubled over and had to leave the room for a drink of water after her viewing.
I'm very glad you were born!
With much love--the Gringa
At 8:30AM, after leaving a conspicuously placed note "be back soon--GG," I left a very quiet apartment on a birthday mission to get Cecilia a gift. Walking one block back and one block over to the Real Market, I was hunting and gathering goodies for Cecilia's birthday party. Kinda' felt like a Top Chef assignment, with pouty-lipped Padma Lakshi instructing, "Chefs, your challenge for today is to prepare appetizers to be served for a casual family pizza dinner tonight. You have no idea how many might come, or at what time you will be serving. Your challenge starts now."
I decided to look for wholesome snacks that could be munched while waiting for pizza delivery. How about antipasto stuff? C loves hearts of palm and olives; in the basket they went along with pickled jardiniere. The produce department had some fresh herbs that disappear from the bin by midday, so I was delighted to grab some things that looked really fresh and smelled fragrant green. Will and I like beets; the 9-inch long green beans looked good too. How about those big shell pastas? Bet I could find something to stuff in them.
This time when I went to the register and the lady said that one word that brought me to tears two weeks ago--entrega--I knew what she was asking me. "Do you want your groceries delivered?" Nice, but no thanks. If I'd had a meltdown with one missing vocabulary word, imagine how much fun we could have trying to give all the info necessary for them to successfully deliver the goods?!
The morning was fresh and breezy, and I had taken the long way to the store; but now, with seven plastic grocery sacks sagging in my grip, I was not stopping before I reached the apartment door. (Where were those dark-glassed, black SUV's that wait to sweep the Top Chefs back to their kitchen?) Slowly, I trucked my gathered foodstuffs two long blocks back to 291 Praia de Icarai. I hoped that somehow these weighted sacks would help the batwings on my upper arms disappear.
The front desk clerk pressed a button that opened the latch of the service entrance when he saw me pass the main entrance. Still chugging along, I made it to the service elevator and rejoiced to find it waiting for me to enter. One less time to put the bags down!
Note--the elevator doesn't move until you press your floor. Note, too--once the inner metal accordion door opens at your destination, the outside door does not open by itself, like the elevator doors do in America. So . . . on my way back DOWN with the groceries, the workman that got on at the 7th floor was a little puzzled when I stayed onboard at the main floor. A grin and shrugging shoulders have universal meaning. Again on floor 11, I dove through the outer elevator door, into the hall, and entered our sleeping apartment.
I had a pleasant day in the breezy kitchen, and by 5PM, the fridge was full of fresh pickled beets, blanched seasoned green beans, shells stuffed with fish and herbs, fruit salad. The jars of delicacies were chilling as well. Time to lay down for a pre-party rest.
Gringa is learning to pace myself a little better. The rhythm of get-togethers here in Brasil is very different from that in Texas. Clocks are, well, . . . absent. In Texas, a party/meal is usually planned for a specific time, say 7PM. It's polite for people to show up around 6-6:30, eat around 7-ish, visit, play games, or have coffee and dessert, then leave around 10 or so. After 5 weeks in Brasil, I've learned that a schedule is much more of a general vision here. In the first place, dinner is a meal served way past 8, or even 9, or even 10PM. People are invited, and whoever is able to come gets there when they arrive. Also, Cecilia told me that Brasilians consider it very rude to stay for just a short time--3-4 hours. So, a visit, party, or even just a family get-together usually lasts a minimum of 6 hours, no matter when it starts. Please don't misunderstand. I'm not being critical of the Brasilian way or the American way.
I've gained a new perspective on an interesting clash of cultures. I'm learning that clocks and schedules and my endless to-do lists aren't nearly as important as people. I'm very grateful for this new insight--that I need to loosen up when it comes to having things run 'on schedule.' There have been a couple of times since Daniel came home when I've needed to excuse myself from visitors and go to my room for a nap (or at least to lay flat on my back for a while). New grandmothering has depleted my hospitality skills, it seems. Or maybe the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. At any rate, I hope my new family and friends realize that my absences are not a reflection of rude American behavior, but rather a sleep-deprived 62 year-old with a kidney stone! (Probably TMI--sorry.)
So Cecilia's Birthday Party got started. While Daniel decided to keep the Birthday Girl engaged, the appetizers were well-received.
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| Friends Julia and Anao |
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| Joao (C's nephew) Poses |
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| C's Cousin Tacio |
Not sure what time it was when the pizzas were ordered by phone, but Daniel and I had a date in the rocker while Cecilia, wearing a pretty white and yellow summer dress, left the bedroom. The party-goers cheered her entrance and chowed down together.
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| l-r back row: Anao, Julia, Tacio, Helio, (Maria) Cecilia front row: Joao, Will, Cecilia, the birthday girl! |
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| Men (and Woman!) in Black |
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| Black With a Glimmer of Sunshine |
Vovo Dora and I played tag-team with the baby while Cecilia enjoyed her special night.
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| Daniel with His Lion Blanket Pretty sure his eyes will be dark blue! (forgive the red-eye . . . I haven't mastered Will's Photoshop yet) |
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| Vovo Dora has a magic touch. |
The pizzas were delicious, the company was mellow and fun. Love was apparent.
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| Will's gift to Cecilia-- placemats for their wonderful new table. |
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| It's (Not) My Party And I'll Cry If I Want To! |
Don't know what I was expecting to be different about birthday parties in Brasil, but the only difference was the words to the Birthday Song. Same tune--B Portuguese lyrics sung twice with clapping. The cake ingredients were different from your basic Devil's Food or such. Dora brought a beautiful creation made of layers of vanilla sponge cake and passionfruit mousse, iced and decorated with a passionfruit glaze. (So glad this Top Chef candidate was not assigned a dessert, because we all would have missed this slice of heaven!)
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| C and Her Cake |
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| Trying to Light a Sparkler |
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| Still Trying to Light a Sparkler |
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| Anao and Helio are still trying to get that sparkler lit. |
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| A new sparkler--same result. |
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| Will lights a kitchen match and sticks it in the cake. |
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| Everyone tries to sing The Birthday Song through twice before the match goes out. |
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| Make a Wish! . . . but there's nothing to blow out! |
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| It's now after midnight, and February 25th, which is Julia's birthday! |
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| This is what "hangin' out" looks like in Brasil. |
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| Good Friends and Family |
Another special gift came by email early on the 24th. It was from Steve/Dad. When Steve was in the Navy for 6 years, one of the skills he perfected was talking very clearly in a voice that sounds just like Donald Duck. He used to talk that way to Steve Jr. in utero. And my Christmas present every year has been listening to him sing in Donald Duck-ese "The Twelve Days of Christmas." I laugh until my eyes sparkle so much I can't see straight. And so, Steve/Dad had recorded himself singing the Birthday Song in his best Donald Duck, and emailed the recording to Cecilia. While I won't link you to the video for fear of embarrassing my shy--yes, shy--hubby, I can tell you that Dora doubled over and had to leave the room for a drink of water after her viewing.
Happy Birthday, Cecilia!
Compassionate
Engaging
Considerate
Independent
Loving
Intelligent
Adventurous
I'm very glad you were born!
With much love--the Gringa
From the 38 to Daniel
Chapter One
Itaipu to Icarai
On Saturday, February 11th, Tio Carlos watched a bleary-eyed troupe of three (and one half) board a 38 bus across the street from his home in Itaipu. Our mini-vacay was over. Will had an appointment to help with a photo shoot at Oficina de Minas--the store for which he developed a website. Cecilia and I planned to get back to the apartment, call her OB Patricia, and start timing contractions. We three, with and Daniel onboard, settled for our bumpy transport.
Preferential seats on a bus are right up front, and the morning was cool; so the lack of air conditioning was not an issue. What was at issue was the fact that C's 'preferential seat' was directly over the front wheel well of the bus. She had not been comfortable (to put it mildly) for over a week now, and I was certain this bumpy omnibus should probably take us straight to the Maternity Hospital. But instead, we exited at our regular stop and followed Cecilia's preference to walk home . . . slowly.
The second time C braked for a contraction and Will wanted again to flag a taxi, Cecilia agreed. Unlike last night in Itaipu, the very next car to appear was a taxi with our name on it! We gratefully situated ourselves in an air conditioned cab and enjoyed the luxury of a smooth ride home. Will changed quickly into a suitable t-shirt, tucked their cell phone in one of his cargo shorts' pockets, then reluctantly left for his 2 PM appointment. Cecilia called her doctor, showered, and laid down. I unpacked our three overnight bags, and prayed.
Chapter Two
The Calls
For four weeks now, C had been having Braxton Hicks contractions--those random pre-labor pains that come and go. She hadn't really slowed down much at all, until last week. Nesting, along with a life training rule from Dora ("While you're resting, carry these rocks.") compelled her with lots of last-minute tasks.
BTW--We made a trip to Centro earlier in the week to search for a bench to put by the rocker. Will and the Gringa were on pins and needles throughout this errand, because the streets of Centro are not the kind of place we wanted to call Daniel's birthplace. (Would have made an interesting story, and possibly the evening news, but if we had a choice, we weren't up for that.) I think C thought we were being fuss budgets until we sat down for lunch at Mario's. Our waitress nearly passed out when she got an eyefull of Cecilia's belly and found out C was having contractions.
Even on this Saturday, these contractions were show-stoppers, but never lasted more than a few seconds. They were so sporadic; we kept waiting for "true labor" to begin. I checked on Cecilia after about an hour of rest, and she said she felt a little better. "Honey," I said, "I feel better too now that we're off the front wheel well of that bus!" By 4 PM Cecilia called her doctor again. When Patricia OB instructed us to meet her at the Maternity Hospital for a check, C called Will and I started re-packing my hospital bag from the trip to Itaipu. Where did I put my wallet? ID? extra cash? Not there . . . not there either . . . time to go!
Chapter Three
Arrivals
Will arrived with C's cousin Andre, who was the photographer for the Minas shoot. Andre would drive us to the hospital in Sao Francisco to meet the doctor. We were swept in a wave down the elevator, through the lobby, past the flat-footed doormen, and to the waiting car. Andre loaded our bags in his trunk, and off we went. Every day for the past three weeks, when Will and Cecilia would decide what needed to be done in that 24 hour period, Will would say with a big grin and a cocked head, "Wanna' have a baby today?" We were all hoping that today would be the day that there would be signs that true labor had begun.
Patricia OB was sitting in the tidy, quiet reception area of the new Maternity Hospital of Sao Francisco when we washed through the front door. As Cecilia and Will followed her around the corner to an exam room, those closest to the couple had begun to arrive: Dora, Helio and Cecilia, Flora, Joao, Anao and Julia. The reception area couch was full when W and C appeared again with Patricia.
Chapter Four
Options
"Fechada," Will said with a deep breath. Patricia OB found no sign that labor had begun, or that all the contractions Cecilia had endured for four weeks had effected any change. Now I was unsettled and began to pray silently over all the conversations. Will explained their options as he held Cecilia's hand.
Chapter Five
Options Too
At Cecilia and Will's apartment, I had shared the story of my first pregnancy with the two. How, at 41+ weeks, my water broke but still there was no progress in labor. How my doctor decided to perform a C-Section. How surprised he was during the procedure to find the cord wrapped around Steve Jr.'s neck 4 times. How there was no possible way the doctor could have known this. How there was no way labor could have progressed to a safe natural birth. How our first child would most probably have been stillborn, or so oxygen-deprived that he would have been severely handicapped. How our bright and competent son was saved by a wise OB and our Ever Wise God.
God never wastes an experience. Never. What I thought was the miracle of a safe, live birth in 1975 was now on the table again--perhaps to guide the decision of a new generation.
Just like Cecilia, I know how much I wanted to give birth, naturally and drug-free, to my perfect first child. She had shared that the preferred convenience of C-Section was the norm for the majority of women and obstetricians in Brasil. As a surgeon herself, Cecilia thought a surgical option for convenience sake was wrong; I agreed. Now the surgical option loomed large, and her dream of natural birth seemed to be slipping away.
Chapter Six
Option #3
I sat on a couch in the Maternity Hospital of Sao Francisco, RJ, Brasil, praying for Will and Cecilia to find God's perfect will for them and Daniel. As Cecilia and Will returned to the group, Will solemnly announced their decision to stay and have the baby that day; Cecilia cried quietly with Will's arm around her shoulder. I remember how difficult it was to let go of my dream; how disappointed and unprepared I was when my doctor used the "C" word. There was a time to grieve my plan, and then a time to watch God's plan unfold. His ways are higher than my ways; His thoughts higher than mine.
Chapter Seven
Settled
So, after reassurance from the doctor that they wouldn't start for a while, Helio went with me back to the apartment for the camera and a few other necessary items that were forgotten in the shuffle. When the cab dropped us back at the hospital, paperwork and plastic bracelets were in place. The entourage followed Cecilia to her room, #305, where she got unpacked and settled in. C's dear friend Valeria arrived with her boyfriend Klaus. Helio and I tried to find the best place to hang Cecilia's butterfly mobile. With a nurse's permission, we tied it to the sprinkler head above C's bed. (Guess if the sprinkler went off there'd be more to worry about than wet oragami insects.) Flora organized the signs that were attached to the door of the room.
Then we waited.
As Cecilia was transported to the surgical suite and Will disappeared to change into scrubs, Dora began to walk around, rosary in hand. I was praying too. Grandmothers' prayers avail much, especially when physical access in restricted!
Chapter Eight
The Wait
The waiting area was packed with anxious loved ones who tried to "use their inside voices."
We drank water and watched a television tuned to some pre-Carnaval variety show replete with people of questionable gender dressed in sequined spandex and large headpieces. Very Tootsie-esque. Several in the group had hand-held devices for texting, posting, or games, but waiting was hard work!
In a (relatively) short time, the crowd moved to the second floor cafe/nursery viewing area to await Daniel's appearance. This WiFi cafe had two computer screens and a television, also tuned in to the same show that we had left upstairs. Tables and chairs made waiting more comfortable with a small service area for strong, good (pricey) Brasilian coffee, pastries, soft drinks, and wine. One end of the room was glass-walled, and overlooked a well-lit, sterile room filled with shiny plastic bassinets and incubators neatly prepped for a dozen babies. Daniel would be the only one to occupy the space this night.
Chapter Nine
Daniel Reese Maia Bingham
Soon, two masked individuals in blue scrubs came down the stairs from the third floor surgical suite carrying our boy. Daniel was practically upside-down in the arms of one. They disappeared around a corner, just out of sight, to clean him and check him out. A nurse brought him briefly to the window, then placed his beautiful diapered self in an incubator to help him get used to life this side of the womb.
"This is the first time in his life he's ever been alone," I thought. He calmly moved his long arms like a sky diver just outside the plane. Skinny legs jerked on his long pink torso. I couldn't stop staring at his dark hair and eyes.
When he started squalling and flailing, my heart ached.
Swaddle that baby! I wished the nurse would wrap him tight to make him more secure in this new world, but she just smiled from her desk through the glass. At some point, Cecilia and Will's friend (and doctor) Klaus tapped on the door of the Nursery and politely suggested that the baby would be less stressed if he were wrapped. Maybe it was the "Medico" designation on his visitor's badge, or the fact that he was a man--not a grandma, but the nurse promptly swaddled Daniel and then placed him back in his incubator after another short photo op at the window.
Don't you ever wonder what the faces of waiting family look like to the nurse who holds that newborn? Pride and love so strong, they could melt the glass.
Chapter Ten
Skypes and Celebrations
I had my iPad with me for Facebook posts and Skype calls to Texas. First call was to Steve/Dad in Cypress, Texas. Cecilia's name for Steve Sr. comes from Dora's assignation "Steve Pai." This keeps the 'Steve Sr./Steve Jr.' confusion to a minimum. Steve/Dad was online and I pointed the back camera to Daniel in his incubator, thousands of miles away from his Grandfather Bingham. We were basking in the moment when Will arrived in the room and made a beeline to the window to see his boy again. He had been with Cecilia since Daniel left the surgical suite; and now that she was settled in her room with Dora, he had only one mission--get as close to his boy as possible.
On Skype with Steve/Dad, there was father looking at son as a new father looking at son.
Will and his Dad spoke for a few minutes heart to heart, though they were continents apart.
The second Skype call to come through was Aunt Iris and Uncle Doug in Houston, Texas. They too got to see Daniel from a distance and Will up close. Iris and I shared some happy tears as she welcomed me to Club Grandmother. What a wonderful invention, this wireless technology that allows free face time across the street or across the equator.
Next up came a Skype from cousin Douglas in Los Angeles, California. The guys made comments about one another's beards and the great new arrival. Uncle Junior, as Douglas is called by his two nieces, seemed pleased that there was another male on the planet (although I know for a fact he couldn't be more delighted to be wrapped around the fingers of Zoe and Mia).
Helio and Anao passed a celebratory Cuban cigar to the new Dad. Gringo Will was surprised to see such a contraband treat. Then he remembered that this was Brazil, with no embargo on Cuban goods.
Chatting and laughing, groups flowed in and out of Cecilia's room once they found her there. Dora said the group was doing everything but a tarantella--that frenzied gypsy dance.
Chapter Eleven
Quiet Time
Cecilia and Will invited Dora and me to come to her room for Daniel's first visit just after midnight. The rest of the welcoming party had been kicked out of the hospital and were waiting on the street below C's window. (They were planning out which couple would escort which Grandmother to her home--no matter how late they needed to stay.) We turned down the lights and found a blanket for Dora, who had been very cold since the afternoon began unfolding. She and I giggled as we shared the brown fluffy cover like preteens at a slumber party.
Chapter Twelve
OH, BTW--
Hours earlier, Dora and I happened to meet Patricia OB and her team as they were on their way out the door following Daniel's birth. Everything went well, she said. Daniel's head is very big, she said; she seemed to be looking back at the procedure in her mind. Very Big, she emphasized with a nod and a relieved smile.
Itaipu to Icarai
On Saturday, February 11th, Tio Carlos watched a bleary-eyed troupe of three (and one half) board a 38 bus across the street from his home in Itaipu. Our mini-vacay was over. Will had an appointment to help with a photo shoot at Oficina de Minas--the store for which he developed a website. Cecilia and I planned to get back to the apartment, call her OB Patricia, and start timing contractions. We three, with and Daniel onboard, settled for our bumpy transport.
Preferential seats on a bus are right up front, and the morning was cool; so the lack of air conditioning was not an issue. What was at issue was the fact that C's 'preferential seat' was directly over the front wheel well of the bus. She had not been comfortable (to put it mildly) for over a week now, and I was certain this bumpy omnibus should probably take us straight to the Maternity Hospital. But instead, we exited at our regular stop and followed Cecilia's preference to walk home . . . slowly.
The second time C braked for a contraction and Will wanted again to flag a taxi, Cecilia agreed. Unlike last night in Itaipu, the very next car to appear was a taxi with our name on it! We gratefully situated ourselves in an air conditioned cab and enjoyed the luxury of a smooth ride home. Will changed quickly into a suitable t-shirt, tucked their cell phone in one of his cargo shorts' pockets, then reluctantly left for his 2 PM appointment. Cecilia called her doctor, showered, and laid down. I unpacked our three overnight bags, and prayed.
Chapter Two
The Calls
For four weeks now, C had been having Braxton Hicks contractions--those random pre-labor pains that come and go. She hadn't really slowed down much at all, until last week. Nesting, along with a life training rule from Dora ("While you're resting, carry these rocks.") compelled her with lots of last-minute tasks.
BTW--We made a trip to Centro earlier in the week to search for a bench to put by the rocker. Will and the Gringa were on pins and needles throughout this errand, because the streets of Centro are not the kind of place we wanted to call Daniel's birthplace. (Would have made an interesting story, and possibly the evening news, but if we had a choice, we weren't up for that.) I think C thought we were being fuss budgets until we sat down for lunch at Mario's. Our waitress nearly passed out when she got an eyefull of Cecilia's belly and found out C was having contractions.
Even on this Saturday, these contractions were show-stoppers, but never lasted more than a few seconds. They were so sporadic; we kept waiting for "true labor" to begin. I checked on Cecilia after about an hour of rest, and she said she felt a little better. "Honey," I said, "I feel better too now that we're off the front wheel well of that bus!" By 4 PM Cecilia called her doctor again. When Patricia OB instructed us to meet her at the Maternity Hospital for a check, C called Will and I started re-packing my hospital bag from the trip to Itaipu. Where did I put my wallet? ID? extra cash? Not there . . . not there either . . . time to go!
Chapter Three
Arrivals
Will arrived with C's cousin Andre, who was the photographer for the Minas shoot. Andre would drive us to the hospital in Sao Francisco to meet the doctor. We were swept in a wave down the elevator, through the lobby, past the flat-footed doormen, and to the waiting car. Andre loaded our bags in his trunk, and off we went. Every day for the past three weeks, when Will and Cecilia would decide what needed to be done in that 24 hour period, Will would say with a big grin and a cocked head, "Wanna' have a baby today?" We were all hoping that today would be the day that there would be signs that true labor had begun.
Patricia OB was sitting in the tidy, quiet reception area of the new Maternity Hospital of Sao Francisco when we washed through the front door. As Cecilia and Will followed her around the corner to an exam room, those closest to the couple had begun to arrive: Dora, Helio and Cecilia, Flora, Joao, Anao and Julia. The reception area couch was full when W and C appeared again with Patricia.
Chapter Four
Options
"Fechada," Will said with a deep breath. Patricia OB found no sign that labor had begun, or that all the contractions Cecilia had endured for four weeks had effected any change. Now I was unsettled and began to pray silently over all the conversations. Will explained their options as he held Cecilia's hand.
Choice #1: Go home and wait two days for C's appointment on Monday. Option #2: Schedule a C-Section for Monday. Option #3: Check in, and have the C-Section right then on Saturday evening.Discussion and opinions floated around the group as Cecilia and Will sat between Helio and Flora. I kept my mouth closed and my mind engaged. Will stood up and took Cecilia outside so that they could come to a personal decision as a couple. It made my Mama's heart proud to see him do that.
Chapter Five
Options Too
At Cecilia and Will's apartment, I had shared the story of my first pregnancy with the two. How, at 41+ weeks, my water broke but still there was no progress in labor. How my doctor decided to perform a C-Section. How surprised he was during the procedure to find the cord wrapped around Steve Jr.'s neck 4 times. How there was no possible way the doctor could have known this. How there was no way labor could have progressed to a safe natural birth. How our first child would most probably have been stillborn, or so oxygen-deprived that he would have been severely handicapped. How our bright and competent son was saved by a wise OB and our Ever Wise God.
God never wastes an experience. Never. What I thought was the miracle of a safe, live birth in 1975 was now on the table again--perhaps to guide the decision of a new generation.
Just like Cecilia, I know how much I wanted to give birth, naturally and drug-free, to my perfect first child. She had shared that the preferred convenience of C-Section was the norm for the majority of women and obstetricians in Brasil. As a surgeon herself, Cecilia thought a surgical option for convenience sake was wrong; I agreed. Now the surgical option loomed large, and her dream of natural birth seemed to be slipping away.
Chapter Six
Option #3
I sat on a couch in the Maternity Hospital of Sao Francisco, RJ, Brasil, praying for Will and Cecilia to find God's perfect will for them and Daniel. As Cecilia and Will returned to the group, Will solemnly announced their decision to stay and have the baby that day; Cecilia cried quietly with Will's arm around her shoulder. I remember how difficult it was to let go of my dream; how disappointed and unprepared I was when my doctor used the "C" word. There was a time to grieve my plan, and then a time to watch God's plan unfold. His ways are higher than my ways; His thoughts higher than mine.
Chapter Seven
Settled
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| Cecilia waits for Daniel with her sister Flora and good friend Valeria. |
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| Will helped Cecilia make this sign for the door of the hospital room. |
Then we waited.
As Cecilia was transported to the surgical suite and Will disappeared to change into scrubs, Dora began to walk around, rosary in hand. I was praying too. Grandmothers' prayers avail much, especially when physical access in restricted!
Chapter Eight
The Wait
The waiting area was packed with anxious loved ones who tried to "use their inside voices."
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| Klaus, Valeria, Helio, Cecilia, Joao, Julia, Anao |
We drank water and watched a television tuned to some pre-Carnaval variety show replete with people of questionable gender dressed in sequined spandex and large headpieces. Very Tootsie-esque. Several in the group had hand-held devices for texting, posting, or games, but waiting was hard work!
In a (relatively) short time, the crowd moved to the second floor cafe/nursery viewing area to await Daniel's appearance. This WiFi cafe had two computer screens and a television, also tuned in to the same show that we had left upstairs. Tables and chairs made waiting more comfortable with a small service area for strong, good (pricey) Brasilian coffee, pastries, soft drinks, and wine. One end of the room was glass-walled, and overlooked a well-lit, sterile room filled with shiny plastic bassinets and incubators neatly prepped for a dozen babies. Daniel would be the only one to occupy the space this night.
Chapter Nine
Daniel Reese Maia Bingham
Soon, two masked individuals in blue scrubs came down the stairs from the third floor surgical suite carrying our boy. Daniel was practically upside-down in the arms of one. They disappeared around a corner, just out of sight, to clean him and check him out. A nurse brought him briefly to the window, then placed his beautiful diapered self in an incubator to help him get used to life this side of the womb.
"This is the first time in his life he's ever been alone," I thought. He calmly moved his long arms like a sky diver just outside the plane. Skinny legs jerked on his long pink torso. I couldn't stop staring at his dark hair and eyes.
When he started squalling and flailing, my heart ached.
Swaddle that baby! I wished the nurse would wrap him tight to make him more secure in this new world, but she just smiled from her desk through the glass. At some point, Cecilia and Will's friend (and doctor) Klaus tapped on the door of the Nursery and politely suggested that the baby would be less stressed if he were wrapped. Maybe it was the "Medico" designation on his visitor's badge, or the fact that he was a man--not a grandma, but the nurse promptly swaddled Daniel and then placed him back in his incubator after another short photo op at the window.
Don't you ever wonder what the faces of waiting family look like to the nurse who holds that newborn? Pride and love so strong, they could melt the glass.
Chapter Ten
Skypes and Celebrations
I had my iPad with me for Facebook posts and Skype calls to Texas. First call was to Steve/Dad in Cypress, Texas. Cecilia's name for Steve Sr. comes from Dora's assignation "Steve Pai." This keeps the 'Steve Sr./Steve Jr.' confusion to a minimum. Steve/Dad was online and I pointed the back camera to Daniel in his incubator, thousands of miles away from his Grandfather Bingham. We were basking in the moment when Will arrived in the room and made a beeline to the window to see his boy again. He had been with Cecilia since Daniel left the surgical suite; and now that she was settled in her room with Dora, he had only one mission--get as close to his boy as possible.
On Skype with Steve/Dad, there was father looking at son as a new father looking at son.
Will and his Dad spoke for a few minutes heart to heart, though they were continents apart.
The second Skype call to come through was Aunt Iris and Uncle Doug in Houston, Texas. They too got to see Daniel from a distance and Will up close. Iris and I shared some happy tears as she welcomed me to Club Grandmother. What a wonderful invention, this wireless technology that allows free face time across the street or across the equator.
Next up came a Skype from cousin Douglas in Los Angeles, California. The guys made comments about one another's beards and the great new arrival. Uncle Junior, as Douglas is called by his two nieces, seemed pleased that there was another male on the planet (although I know for a fact he couldn't be more delighted to be wrapped around the fingers of Zoe and Mia).
Helio and Anao passed a celebratory Cuban cigar to the new Dad. Gringo Will was surprised to see such a contraband treat. Then he remembered that this was Brazil, with no embargo on Cuban goods.
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| Anao and Helio |
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| Will's Surgical Feet Minus Havaianas |
Chatting and laughing, groups flowed in and out of Cecilia's room once they found her there. Dora said the group was doing everything but a tarantella--that frenzied gypsy dance.
Chapter Eleven
Quiet Time
Cecilia and Will invited Dora and me to come to her room for Daniel's first visit just after midnight. The rest of the welcoming party had been kicked out of the hospital and were waiting on the street below C's window. (They were planning out which couple would escort which Grandmother to her home--no matter how late they needed to stay.) We turned down the lights and found a blanket for Dora, who had been very cold since the afternoon began unfolding. She and I giggled as we shared the brown fluffy cover like preteens at a slumber party.
Daniel had arrived. All was right in the world.
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| For this child, we have prayed. |
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| The picture is fuzzy but the joy is not! |
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| Will shields Daniel's eyes from the glare. |
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| A Perfect Miracle |
Chapter Twelve
OH, BTW--
Hours earlier, Dora and I happened to meet Patricia OB and her team as they were on their way out the door following Daniel's birth. Everything went well, she said. Daniel's head is very big, she said; she seemed to be looking back at the procedure in her mind. Very Big, she emphasized with a nod and a relieved smile.
Everything went well--thanks to The Creator and Sustainer of our lives.
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