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My daughter is one week old today, and, boy, what a strange, sweet, challenging and joyful week! This week probably seems so epically long because I’ve been awake for all of it! I’ve decided that the theme song of the week is "Great is Thy Faithfulness"…God has been so good to us and has answered some desperate and impossible prayers. Alice and I have learned a lot about each other. With great difficulty, we’re finally getting on the right track with breastfeeding…now I totally understand why people opt to formula-feed their babies, because learning to breastfeed is extremely hard. I think one of the major lessons I learned this week is to not to judge women who make childbirth/childrearing decisions you wouldn’t make for yourself. Every woman is just trying to do the best she can for herself and her child. In a previous post, I had been a little overly critical of the natural childbirth philosophy, but now I can see the benefits of giving birth and in the comfort of familiar surroundings and being tended to by a midwife or doula. Three days in the hospital nearly drove me to distraction…the entire building rattled and throbbed all night long, and it was impossible for me to get any rest. As kind and compassionate as the staff of Centennial Women’s was, I didn’t have the same nurse twice! I really wish I could have had the same person caring for me for the entire process and recovery. And on behalf of the ladies who chose epidurals…I highly recommend them. Not only did it take away my pain, it made me feel good. I’m not saying I would choose it for my recreational drug of choice, but it definitely was one of the perks of the birthing process.

And speaking of the birth process…in a nutshell, here’s what it was like: I was placed on the pitocin drip around 5:00, had my water broken around 7:00, had my epidural when I was at five centimeters, and proceeded at about a centimeter an hour until early afternoon. Everything was going beautifully, and it came time for me to push. I was pushing well for about 20 minutes, and Alice’s head was appearing. However, with each push, her heart rate dropped sharply. For a few seconds there, I thought Dr. Blake would whip out her handy dandy Swiss Army Knife and cut her out of me right then and there. But the terrifying critical moment passed, and Dr. Blake assured me the baby’s heart rate had stabilized and was not in immediate danger…but there was only one solution to the situation, and that was an emergency C-Section. Well, having a C-section was never on my list of things to do before I die, but just as I didn’t want to be induced or have my water artificially broken or have a monitor screwed into my baby’s head, I didn’t get my way. Everything happened very fast, and before I knew it, a team of about a 12 was wheeling me into a very medical, sterile room, placing a drape across my middle, and cutting my belly open as I waited and tried to be brave.

It is a strange and frightening thing to have a C-section…you don’t feel pain, but you do feel a certain sawing sensation, and when you combine all that with disturbing squishy noises and pretty good mental image of what your abdomen looks like, it can be a little scary. I was exhausted…but not too exhausted to be awash with relief at the first cry of my very healthy daughter.

Alice is still a mystery to me…I can’t quite process that she’s mine. It’s wild to think that she was the little wriggling bundle that was wadded up in my belly all those months. When I first saw her, I thought she was so beautiful…"rosebud perfect" as one lady described her. The enormity of bringing a child into the world crashes into me on a daily basis and can be cripplingly overwhelming. But I want to learn to take it one day at a time and draw the sweetness out of this cocktail of new mom emotions.

I'm not a sensitive pregnant woman. I actually like it when friends give my little girl a pat or a rub, though very few people have. I guess angry pregnant women have finally put the fear of God in potential patters. I made a promise to myself to be extraordinarily patient and cheerful with friends and strangers alike during my pregnancy. I didn't want to be one of those uppity, crabby preggos who go out of their way to find fault with everything anyone says to them. I always thought pregnant women should be as sweet as they looked. I've yet to lose my temper with anyone. But my daughter is due tomorrow, and I can pretty much guarantee you that she hasn't gotten that memo, so I'm bracing myself for the inevitable barrage of inappropriate comments that I will continue to endure. So in a friendly effort to edify the ignorant, here are a few phrases that all preggies hate:

1. "Are you pregnant?" It's amazing how often this statement pops out of well-meaning mouths. I can't tell you how many of my friends (skinny and non-pregnant women!) have been asked this question. If she's pregnant, she'll let you know. Unless she doesn't like you (which she probably doesn't if you've asked her if she's pregnant) and then you'll have to wait until her condition becomes more obvious or you overhear some reliable gossip.

2. "Are you going to have a natural childbirth?" Clay and I have had long philosophical discussions regarding why some folks don't consider you a real woman unless you push that little tyke out sans drugs. Its fine with us if other folks want to go drug-free, but we think of natural childbirth as being unnecessarily painful and somewhat pharisaical.

3. "Are you eating healthy foods? It's the most important thing you can do for a healthy baby!" (this has happened to me at two different parties when I was caught eating fatty hors d'oeurves...once by an old, meddling woman and once by a old, meddling man.) I do the best I can to eat healthy, but the "make every bite count" philosophy really gets on my nerves. It's simply not realistic. Not everything you put in your mouth has to be an organic salad in order for you to have a healthy and strong child.

4."You look like you're about to pop!" Why would you deliberately make an emotionally vulnerable woman feel like an overinflated dirigible? Someone told me this when I was about 7 months along and at a very reasonable weight. Trust me, I've looked around at other preggies, and I'm on the small side. So I can't imagine what my larger friends do when they hear this. Trust me, we preggies are acutely aware of our bigness, in much the same way as we are acutely aware of the stretch marks that have mysteriously invaded our hineys. If you need to make a comment about a pregnant lady's physical appearance, use words like "glowing." Otherwise, you may find yourself paying The Ultimate Price.

5. "I bet you're having twins!" (see # 4 for advice on not calling people fat) You know, fetal ultrasounds are remarkably accurate these days. There are few places an unborn baby can wander off to, and there is little chance of one hiding behind the other. If she's having twins, you’re bound to hear about it. Your remarkable fortune-telling powers are not necessary for an accurate prenatal headcount.

6. "This is your first pregnancy? I had horrible pregnancies! I had morning sickness for 10 months/my ankles swelled to the size of tree trunks/I was in labor for 3 days/my breast milk turned to dust/forceps make my baby's ears look funny the rest of his life." Sharing these sorts of intimate details with a preggie will either terrify her or bore her to tears. Unless you're a close friend or she asks, keep it to yourself.

7. "You're ripe!" (once again, see #4 regarding offensive fat comments) Yes, someone has actually called me ripe. And it was a man. Perhaps this was intended to make me feel like a sweet-smelling, delectable peach, chock full of wonder and goodness. Instead, it made me feel like a melon on its last legs. Not to mention that it evoked the imagery of being on the cusp of becoming overripe, and shortly thereafter, becoming spoiled. This made me want to cry.

8. "Eating for two?" (If you are still calling preggies fat at this point, perhaps you need more intensive sensitivity training) Okay, so preggies eat a lot. If you were creating and sustaining a 7-8 pound human child inside your body, you'd need a lot of fuel, too. It is both normal and healthy for a woman to gain 25-35 pounds during her pregnancy. You do this by eating.

9. "You're still here?" I can't tell you how many times I heard this. Just today, I think twelve people asked me this question. Like I said, Alice isn't even due yet. When you're asking this question, what you are really saying is, "Can I trust my ocular abilities to correctly perceive if Robyn is indeed still sitting at her desk?" If you have having that much trouble with your vision, take some time off and go visit your optometrist.

10. "Haven't you had that baby yet?" This has got to be my favorite. Today a very intelligent woman (and mother) actually asked me this. A child's birth is typically accompanied by an announcement and the absence of the mother from the work place. Also, think of how horrible it would be if I HAD delivered the baby and still looked 9 months pregnant. I could come up with many clever retorts for this one, but I usually just tell people "She's not quite done cooking yet, but she's in the simmer phase."

Try to keep your cool, preggies. People really are fascinated by you!

Over the last nine months, I have enjoyed a remarkably happy and healthy pregnancy…one that will culminate in a few days with the birth of my first child. The McKinney Family is about to go through a radical change. Alice’s arrival will affect every nook and cranny of my life. Perhaps the most radical change (other than bringing a new life into the world) will be leaving my job as an AA for HCA to stay at home with the baby.

Having children is something that practically everyone does, and most people go through the transition to parenthood without giving much thought to this complex and miraculous process and its vast implications. When I think about everything that has to happen to conceive, carry and deliver a child, it makes my head spin. I am awed and humbled by the fact that I never had to tell my body what to do to cause Alice to grow inside of me. This child was knitted together and sustained in spite of my ignorance.

My "wombmate" will be moving out soon, and this giant bulge in my belly will transform into a daughter we can hold, kiss and see with our own eyes. This idea overwhelms us. Clay and I have dealt with it in much the same way: by not thinking about it too much. Sometimes I get an inkling of what it means, and it terrifies me. I think I have mostly managed this by preparing for the physical: arranging the nursery, stocking up on groceries, and basically controlling whatever I can so I won’t think about how little control I really have. We are at God’s mercy. But He has always been kind and gracious to us, and He has blessed our daughter with strength and life from the very beginning.

Clay and I look forward to this sweet time in our lives. In addition to raising Alice, I would like to eventually explore some new career options, such as starting my own online business or something of that sort. I hope to be able to give more time and attention to home and church. I want this to be a joyful and rewarding time for all three of us as individuals and as a family. We hope to embrace the changes and manage the challenges we will face with courage and enthusiasm.