Welcome to the World Sebastien

Sebastien Eryk Neudoerffer Venema arrived this morning, Thursday March 25, 2010, at 6:28 am, after a quick 4 hours of labour. We got to the hospital at 6:00 am - things moved *very* fast between 5:00 am when I called the midwife to let her know I was in labour and 6:00 am when we got to the hospital. He weighs 7 lbs and is 19" long and already nursing like a trooper. Best of all I delivered a healthy looking and intact placenta MYSELF (though it took nearly as long as Sebastien to come out!). We are already at home and feeling wonderful.

Will post pics when we can.

Love,
Cynthia, Henry, Lydia, Angel Harry & Sebastien.

Awaiting the Baby

Me - 38 weeks pregnant with Baby Sebastien & in desperate need of a haircut (I'm getting one this afternoon).

I am now 38 weeks pregnant. I am decidedly 'done' and ready for my reward for nine long months of work - my precious wee boy! It has been a truly wonderful pregnancy. I have felt fantastic, slept well, avoided nausea, had no cravings or food aversions and in general have just felt so positive, optimistic, energetic and happy the entire pregnancy.

But all that said, I am done. The past week, I am no longer sleeping well, yes I know, practice for the sleep deprivation that lies ahead, but I'm at the point where I want to have the baby before I get too tired! The only comfortable sleeping position is on my left side, but after a few hours in that position my hips ache. I have to pee every few hours. I find I am so hot at night, which is unusual for me, but I think not helped by the fact that I am sleeping on top of one of Lydia's old rubber mattress protectors, to protect our new mattress just in case my water breaks in the middle of the night. Henry has to help me up off the couch or out of the car so I have definitely hit the "feeling like a beached whale" point of pregnancy.

I'm excited about the upcoming birth. Of course anxious too. I will, as I did for both Lydia and Harry, attempt to have a completely natural childbirth with Sebastien, unless intervention is medically necessitated. Any woman who has given birth naturally will understand the mix of excitement and anxiety that I feel. I truly believe that natural childbirth is the hardest, most intense work a woman can do in her life. While modern medicine does keep us very safe here in Canada, the fact remains that in childbirth, we do put ourselves in the exceedingly rare situation in our modern life of having to push ourselves to the edge and actually go to a place where we literally walk the line between life and death. I am anxious about having to go through the experience again, but at the same time, so excited to push myself in this way and to be given the honour of this experience with my baby.

In childbirth I have experienced the true depths of my power as a woman. I have gone into that other realm in the service of my child, fought through the depths of pain, and safely brought them through the veil, from the other side, and into this physical world of ours. It is such a privilege and honour to do this for my child. It is hard, hard, work, but with such great rewards, one of which, for me, has been to know and understand the depths of my own strength.

I suppose that is one of the places from which my strength comes. People often ask me, "Where did you find the strength to face your journey with Harry?" And I know one of my answers has always been, "Because I have given birth to Lydia and Harry - having given birth twice I know I can do anything!". I especially so clearly recall, after Lydia's birth, feeling so empowerd and in awe of all women who were mothers and feeling like, "Ah, I now know the secret, I can do anything, I have given birth".

I am also so interested to see what I will learn and experience through Sebastien's birth. While I am obviously a major participant, it is, ultimately, HIS birth experience. And my best intentions aside, his birth will be what *he* needs to experience and will be driven by his intentions, quite aside from my own. It will be dominated by his energy and who he is - and I am so excited to experience this and to get to know him in this way.

Lydia and Harry's births were very, very different, yet each so clearly matched their personalities and energies. I have always said that Lydia came to teach me patience and the ability to let go of my own false expectations, both of myself and of others. Her birth was an act of patience, but also of completely letting go of all of my expectations of how birth 'should' be and instead accepting the experience as it simply was. My body was so overwhelmed by Lydia's powerful energy and she demanded that things be done her way from the start! Harry's birth, in contrast, was a quick and easy 3 hours from the time that my contractions started till his birth - almost too quick! Everything about Harry's life was tinged with compassion - starting with his birth.

So I am so excited to experience Sebastien's birth and the first hints of his personality, of his energy, of what he has come to learn and what he has come to teach me.

The other emotion I am strongly feeling is that sense of deja vu - that sense of surreality that has run through our lives these past two years. It is a feeling of 'back to the future'. Three years ago we were the three of us, Lydia, Henry and I, waiting in March for our new baby to be born. Harry has been born, lived and died and now here we are again Lydia, Henry and I, waiting in March for our new baby to be born. I have to shake my head to remind myself that it is all real and that yes, Harry was real, I didn't just dream his whole life.

Every now and then, I catch a flash of the 'Harry that should have been'. Not too often, Henry and I agree, it is generally far too painful to let ourselves go there and it is to no avail. There is only pain in imagining a different path with Harry and imagining doesn't help any of us. It won't change what happened and it certainly won't bring Harry back, it just brings us to a place of unimaginable pain. But nonetheless, every now and then, I do slip into that place. We are upstairs getting Lydia ready for bed and in my mind's eye I catch a flash of the little blond head that should be chasing Lydia down the hall in his PJs not quite ready for bed, story book in hand, demanding that we read in his bed tonight. Or I see the other just-turned-three or nearly-three-year old boys in the neighbourhood or at church and then I can so clearly see the blond head that should be walking beside me to take Lydia to school or squirming in my lap during the sermon. In those moments we are confronted full force with the reality of what we have lost and it is almost too much to bear.

We have tried so intentionally to focus on the good parts of the experience of Harry's life. To focus on all the blessings he gave us and on all of the positive lessons we have learned. To make sure that we are better, happier, stronger, more compassionate and loving people for our experience with Harry. To not let his life have been lived in vain. But some moments, all of that still falls away and I am still overwhelmed with sadness and grief over his passing. It is moments now, no longer full days. I can move through it more quickly, though the intensity of the grief does not lesson. How can he not be here? How could his life have unfolded the way it did? What if we had never taken him to the hospital? Would he, like Schrödinger's cat, unobserved in the box, have remained healthy? Did the act of observation of his illness set or force the quantum wave collapse into the particle reality of him being sick? I know the 'what if' game gets me nowhere and does not help and I try to avoid getting sucked in, but, oh, what if, what if my beautiful blond-haired, big blue-eyed boy Harry were here, eagerly awaiting the birth of his baby brother along with the three of us?

Instead, I pray every day for Harry to watch over his brother in 'waiting-to-be-born heaven'. To reassure him, as only Harry his big brother can, that while he is leaving a place of love, he is coming to a place of love too. That he will be born surrounded by love and into love and through love. I am comforted by the thought that the last thing Sebastien will 'see' in heaven before he comes to us is his big brother and when he opens his eyes here, the first thing he will see are the loving faces of his Mummy, Pappa and big sister Lydia.

I am ready. I am ready to face this next step in the adventure we call life. Ready to push myself to the limits, ready to meet my new son.

Love,
Cynthia