Fanfare for Finn

Less than two hours old...

Creature sounded gloomy when I talked to her on Wednesday evening. An ultrasound earlier in the day revealed a “peaceful” Finn, but not one eager to begin his journey into the here and now. In the event he remained “peaceful” – a euphemism for “stubborn” I’m guessing – an induction was scheduled for Friday the 13th, not the auspicious beginning one might hope for in a first grandchild – or a first child. In desperation, Creature had swallowed a potion provided by the midwife – a mixture of castor oil, ginseng and various herbs – but it didn’t seem to be having any effect.

When my phone rang on Thursday at 5:55 a.m. – I’d just stepped out of the shower – I thought it must have spurred Finn into sluggish action at last.

Instead, Creature, with a tremble at the edge of her voice, said, “Mom! The baby’s here!”

I gabbled some stringy nonsense and finally managed, “Can I come and see him?”

“Of course. That’s why I phoned. But Nym will have to explain how to get to where we are.”

Visions of I don’t know what catapulted through my brain. “Where are you?”

“Nym will explain.”

Nym did. It turned out they were at the hospital I can see on the other side of the Inlet when I look out my apartment windows. What happened to the home birth? No time to worry yet. I flung on some clothes, called my office to say I wouldn’t be in and set off through the frosty darkness.

When I reached the dimly-lit private delivery room – so different from the spot-lit arenas the terminally pregnant were trundled to in my day - Creature lay with Finn nuzzling at her breast, the exhaustion and glory of new motherhood circling them like feathers of faint golden smoke. Nym sat in a chair nearby, looking pale and rather shocked.

I started stroking strands of damp hair off Creature’s forehead. “I didn’t know it would be such hard work,” she said, not taking her eyes off Finn. “Did I, little man?” She kissed the soft masses of his dark hair.

“That’s why they call it labour,” I said, trying to slot strands of her own dark hair behind her ear.

Later, when the midwife had swaddled him, I held him close. Words fail me. I simply can’t describe the depth of feeling that awoke, that stirred in the profoundest parts of me, as I embraced his warmth, his tiny solidity, his fresh baby scent. A new part of me has been born along with Finn and belongs to me, inextricably. My heart has expanded its quarters.