The Humble Beginnings of Clive Melvin Latif
Well, well, well. Look who it is... Welcome back. My poor mother has been asking me to start blogging again for years now. But some how I couldn't bring myself back to this little corner of the internet. These old stories often seem from a different life. But the thought of starting a new blog somewhere else seemed incredibly daunting. So, I'm sorry it has taken me three years Mother, but here she is! And I'm renaming her after our favorite children's book, Wynken, Blynken, & Nod, annnnd I'm putting up sailboats. So, that's good.
What better way to relaunch this blog than with a long post about Clivey Boy's beautiful birth? I can hear him chattering in his crib down the hall. He's supposed to be napping. But, let's get real, they never nap at the same time. He seems happy, so let's get started...
The Sunday before Clive's arrival was one of the most beautiful family days we've ever had. I had had false labor two nights before and it had left me feeling deflated. Our last few days off together included long, slow walks, trying to encourage him along. We ended up walking down to some sports fields we had seen over the years that belong to Germantown Friends School. It was one of the first warm days of spring. The fields were beautifully green and spacious, (not a combination you see all that often in the city). We played in the grass, rolled down hills (okay, Matt and Veda rolled down hills), and watched the barn swallows fly from here to there and back again. I sat in the warm grass, my belly swollen
with life, and savored each minute of "the three of us". Soon there would be four, and though I was desperate for him to come, I was... mourning is too negative a word... but recognizing the loss of our first family experience. It was so beautiful. After a nap we took Veda swimming at the gym. She laughed and splashed and played! My body screamed with joy for being weightless, even if just for a few minutes. The next day I woke up incredibly disappointed that it didn't seem I'd be having this baby on my father-in-law's birthday. But something came over me and soon I was scrubbing our three story, 100 year old house top to bottom. I hit the bed that night completely satisfied by my successful day.
At 1:30 I woke up with a pain. And another 15 minutes later. And another, and another. All about 15 minutes apart. Remembering our false start a few nights before, Matt was up and gone for work by 3:30. I texted him at 5 telling him I thought it was real. He came home around 7, and contractions stopped. So we walked back to the fields. Back they came. Every 15 minutes or so. It was so different than with Veda. With her, contractions were like a steady freight train. Hard and 7 minutes a part all the way up until I stared pushing. These were sporadic in pain level and time in between. My midwife told me to relax and "see if they went away". I was like- Girl you must be crazy if you think I want these to go away. I want to have this baby. Contractions casually came and went, I felt great. After we put Veda down for a nap we handed the monitor over to Matt and Amanda and headed to the Birth Center.
Contractions stopped while in the car. When we arrived I was 4 cm and one of my favorite midwives was on call. She said she still wasn't convinced I was in labor (not my favorite midwife after she said that), so we could go walk for a couple hours and come back at 4. we found this beautiful trail and got to walking. Contractions returned and were all of a sudden about 4-5 min apart. And for the first time since 1:30 that morning I was having to stop, rock, and moan. There may have been a few uncomfortable fellow walkers that afternoon... So with my belly contracting and my shoulders pink with the new spring sun we returned to the Birth Center. I was now at 7! It was happening! We called Lindsey and Danielle and asked them to come right away. I got in the tub and began the dance through transition. It was almost as if I could control the contractions. I could put my body in positions that would make them come steady and strong, and then when I laid down they would almost stop all together. You'd think this was an incredibly amazing super power to have, but... there is a lot to say for the pure abandonment in labor. Around 6 pm I decided I needed to go for it. I needed it to be over and to hold my baby boy. We were all having such a nice time- laughing and chatting over my giant, naked belly. It was time to get serious.
I kept asking the midwife to check me to see how far I was. She said my body would tell me when it was ready. "Right, but can you give me a number?" So she checked me and found I was at 9 with a bit of lip. I started feeling the urge to push, but I knew the contractions I was having were not strong enough to get the baby out. I pushed hard for a few and knew something wasn't quite lining up. (This was probably due to that bit of remaining cervical lip.) Then all of a sudden like a tsunami, I was overwhelmed with the desire to push. I began my pushing roar and (unlike with Veda) the pushing sensation felt amazing. It was the most "right" thing my body had ever done. I pushed one huge, powerful, god-help-me-painful, roaring push...POP! Warm, clean waters! Then, all of a sudden I was yanked out of my primitive, animal state and found that everyone was yelling at me. "BESS, BESS!!! STOP!!!" "What, what, what's wrong?!" Then I heard them all laughing while my backside felt like it was on fire. "You've got to breath for a moment! You pushed him all the way down in one push! He's crowning! You need to give your body time to make way for him." And that's when I may or may not have said- "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! I can't wait! There is a baby literally about to exit me, and your telling me to hold him in for a minute?!" But I somehow managed to take some breaths that sounded like- "oh my gosh, dear Jesus help me, shit this hurts, you can't be serious, I CAN DO THIS." And then after about a minute of this, (which if you've ever had a baby crowning before, this felt like 30 years) I got to push a glorious, crazy painful, satisfying push and out popped his head! Sweet glory! Another incredible push and out came his shoulders. Then his beautiful barrel body! RELIEF! I was on all fours, so they handed him straight through my legs and into my arms. I held him there awkwardly, "My baby! Oh my gosh! He looks like Matt..." crying my eyes out until we somehow rolled over and I was able to look at him properly. He had a full head of beautiful, dark hair. I thought he looked so different than my bald little Veda. My beautiful boy. It was 8:30 at night on April 9th, 9 days before my due date.
I lost quite a lot of blood, and had trailing membranes like I did with Veda. They worked with stressed, sweaty faces for quite sometime to deliver the placenta intact, while I laid there trying to admire my baby. And after a lot of extremely painful exploring and uterine massage- all was well. I was miraculously tear free after pushing a 9 lb 3 oz baby out that quickly. Due to my blood loss and slight temperature they gave me a unit of fluid. We celebrated over burritos then sent our beloved friends off with gratitude as we settled in for the night with our new son.
The next morning we named him Clive Melvin Latif. We found out we were pregnant with Clive just weeks after my dad passed away from a very short battle with stomach cancer. He was one of my dearest friends. When we found out we were having a boy, I knew I wanted his name to honor my dad. Clive means river bank. Fossil and artifact hunting were a big part of my childhood, and our destinations would often be in and around banks of rivers- both current and ancient. It also just so happens to be the name of one of my favorite authors- Clive Staples Lewis (C.S. Lewis). Melvin was my dad's name and means chief. He was the executive director at a state hospital for the criminally insane. Time and time again I have heard his time as E.D. referred to as "the golden age". He was a great leader. So many people loved and respected him. Latif is an arabic name that was given to Matt by a friend of ours who passed away a few years ago. He wrote out the most beautiful meaning. "The most subtle and gracious. The kind, refined, gentle, and most pleasant, the mysterious, the knower of the most subtle mysteries." Matt felt like this described the person he aspired to be. Clive Melvin Latif. Our gentle chief. Or as adoring sister likes to call him- Clivey Boy. Our beautiful, beautiful boy.
For Veda's birth story visit the blog of my beloved sister friend Michaela Evanow. (You should read a bit about her beautiful family and their journey as well while you're there. They are truly heroes.)
http://michaelaevanow.com/2012/01/30/time-for-sharing-a-birth-story-with-soul/
What better way to relaunch this blog than with a long post about Clivey Boy's beautiful birth? I can hear him chattering in his crib down the hall. He's supposed to be napping. But, let's get real, they never nap at the same time. He seems happy, so let's get started...
The Sunday before Clive's arrival was one of the most beautiful family days we've ever had. I had had false labor two nights before and it had left me feeling deflated. Our last few days off together included long, slow walks, trying to encourage him along. We ended up walking down to some sports fields we had seen over the years that belong to Germantown Friends School. It was one of the first warm days of spring. The fields were beautifully green and spacious, (not a combination you see all that often in the city). We played in the grass, rolled down hills (okay, Matt and Veda rolled down hills), and watched the barn swallows fly from here to there and back again. I sat in the warm grass, my belly swollen
with life, and savored each minute of "the three of us". Soon there would be four, and though I was desperate for him to come, I was... mourning is too negative a word... but recognizing the loss of our first family experience. It was so beautiful. After a nap we took Veda swimming at the gym. She laughed and splashed and played! My body screamed with joy for being weightless, even if just for a few minutes. The next day I woke up incredibly disappointed that it didn't seem I'd be having this baby on my father-in-law's birthday. But something came over me and soon I was scrubbing our three story, 100 year old house top to bottom. I hit the bed that night completely satisfied by my successful day. 
I kept asking the midwife to check me to see how far I was. She said my body would tell me when it was ready. "Right, but can you give me a number?" So she checked me and found I was at 9 with a bit of lip. I started feeling the urge to push, but I knew the contractions I was having were not strong enough to get the baby out. I pushed hard for a few and knew something wasn't quite lining up. (This was probably due to that bit of remaining cervical lip.) Then all of a sudden like a tsunami, I was overwhelmed with the desire to push. I began my pushing roar and (unlike with Veda) the pushing sensation felt amazing. It was the most "right" thing my body had ever done. I pushed one huge, powerful, god-help-me-painful, roaring push...POP! Warm, clean waters! Then, all of a sudden I was yanked out of my primitive, animal state and found that everyone was yelling at me. "BESS, BESS!!! STOP!!!" "What, what, what's wrong?!" Then I heard them all laughing while my backside felt like it was on fire. "You've got to breath for a moment! You pushed him all the way down in one push! He's crowning! You need to give your body time to make way for him." And that's when I may or may not have said- "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! I can't wait! There is a baby literally about to exit me, and your telling me to hold him in for a minute?!" But I somehow managed to take some breaths that sounded like- "oh my gosh, dear Jesus help me, shit this hurts, you can't be serious, I CAN DO THIS." And then after about a minute of this, (which if you've ever had a baby crowning before, this felt like 30 years) I got to push a glorious, crazy painful, satisfying push and out popped his head! Sweet glory! Another incredible push and out came his shoulders. Then his beautiful barrel body! RELIEF! I was on all fours, so they handed him straight through my legs and into my arms. I held him there awkwardly, "My baby! Oh my gosh! He looks like Matt..." crying my eyes out until we somehow rolled over and I was able to look at him properly. He had a full head of beautiful, dark hair. I thought he looked so different than my bald little Veda. My beautiful boy. It was 8:30 at night on April 9th, 9 days before my due date. 
I lost quite a lot of blood, and had trailing membranes like I did with Veda. They worked with stressed, sweaty faces for quite sometime to deliver the placenta intact, while I laid there trying to admire my baby. And after a lot of extremely painful exploring and uterine massage- all was well. I was miraculously tear free after pushing a 9 lb 3 oz baby out that quickly. Due to my blood loss and slight temperature they gave me a unit of fluid. We celebrated over burritos then sent our beloved friends off with gratitude as we settled in for the night with our new son.
The next morning we named him Clive Melvin Latif. We found out we were pregnant with Clive just weeks after my dad passed away from a very short battle with stomach cancer. He was one of my dearest friends. When we found out we were having a boy, I knew I wanted his name to honor my dad. Clive means river bank. Fossil and artifact hunting were a big part of my childhood, and our destinations would often be in and around banks of rivers- both current and ancient. It also just so happens to be the name of one of my favorite authors- Clive Staples Lewis (C.S. Lewis). Melvin was my dad's name and means chief. He was the executive director at a state hospital for the criminally insane. Time and time again I have heard his time as E.D. referred to as "the golden age". He was a great leader. So many people loved and respected him. Latif is an arabic name that was given to Matt by a friend of ours who passed away a few years ago. He wrote out the most beautiful meaning. "The most subtle and gracious. The kind, refined, gentle, and most pleasant, the mysterious, the knower of the most subtle mysteries." Matt felt like this described the person he aspired to be. Clive Melvin Latif. Our gentle chief. Or as adoring sister likes to call him- Clivey Boy. Our beautiful, beautiful boy.For Veda's birth story visit the blog of my beloved sister friend Michaela Evanow. (You should read a bit about her beautiful family and their journey as well while you're there. They are truly heroes.)
http://michaelaevanow.com/2012/01/30/time-for-sharing-a-birth-story-with-soul/
Comments