Vance and I went to the Midwifery at Women's Health Alliance 3 year birthday party today and had a great time catching up with all of the people who participated in Misha's care (before, during, and after birth). Dr. Gunter and Jualeah, the heroes of Misha's birth story, got to see how much our little guy has grown since his grand entrance 10 weeks ago.

Of course we couldn't leave without taking a few photos with Team Cletus first, at which point we were outed as having a decent camera and a willingness to click the shutter. The result was about 50 beautiful photos of friends and strangers, as well as a sweet new addition to Vance's wardrobe.

Most of

This was not the birth story we had written. The intervention-free, natural hospital birth surrounded only by a midwife, a doula, a supportive husband, and a birth photographer. This was instead an epic adventure, where in the end control was loosed, hard decisions were made, and our son's first experience in this world was not the embrace of his mother, but the sight of our incredible midwife and the kindest OB under the bright lights of an operating room.

Saturday

Labor started slowly sometime Saturday evening, July 26th. We had made a trip to Coon Rock Farm earlier in the day to buy some lamb and eggplant for a Moroccan tagine. (It's an old wive's tale that eggplant induces labor,

There is a room at the end of the hallway, adjacent to our bedroom, that we have affectionately called "Cletus House" for months now. It started as an extra bedroom when we moved in last year, but we always knew it would someday be our baby's nursery. We just didn't know when. So after the nerve-racking "viability scan" and a few subsequent appointments that showed a healthy, growing babe, I finally allowed myself to get fully immersed in nursery planning.

Slowly, with great attention to every tiny detail, our simple guest room has become a beautiful, happy, whimsical space for our son to flourish and learn and grow into a little man. And while Vance will give me full credit

Our little one finally arrived at 41 weeeks, 5 days of pregnancy, after 130 hours of labor. He entered this world at 7 lb, 0.8 oz, writing his own story. Not the one we'd written for him, but one uniquely his. We are overjoyed to welcome him into our little family, and can't wait to take him home.

We're officially four days past our due date now, which means we're about halfway through the Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures list from The Birth Partner. (May I interest you in a few drops of blue cohosh under the tongue?)

After a very reaffirming checkup and ultrasound today, we decided it was time for a treat and a walk. At the suggestion of one of the midwives, we went on a little adventure around downtown Durham to try to get the baby moving (while treating ourselves to a fantastic afternoon full of new memories and good eats). It felt like hard work in the 90° heat (really, it was only 0.8 miles!), and I broke all of my

I'm officially on leave, having thrown in the towel on Tuesday at 39 weeks, 2 days. By this point in pregnancy, the inescapable presence of a tiny human ready to drop is so distracting I consider any woman a hero for working past it. As Vance's students are fond of saying, "The struggles are real."

At some point last weekend I realized that nobody gets an award for occupational heroism (at least not of the prenatal sort), and I had the support of my employer to spend the short time left before "Cletus's" arrival taking care of myself and finishing up whatever preparations were left.

So I called it.

And every day since has felt so unfamiliar to me. Like