Report by Sean Gleeson, on events transpiring the day of 8 Oct. 2004:

THE MAMA
Is ever a woman more beautiful than when delivering a child? Well, yeah, sometimes. In fact, usually. The most salient feature of laboring is, it hurts. It hurts a lot. During contractions, the mother’s face and body are contorted into tortured postures of grimacing, wincing, crying, and clutching. The times between the contractions are better, but only by comparison, marked mostly by the exhaustion from the previous contraction, tempered by the dread of the next one. Laboring requires every ounce of the mother’s physical and mental resources. Because of this, her conversation will seem at times more terse than normal. And there’s the mess. Not a small amount of mess.

Taken all with all, not entirely a Glamor Shots moment. And yet, and yet, a moment of joy. Singular joy, unspeakable joy, rapturous beatific joy. Such joy that the mere anticipation of it makes the suffering not just bearable, but almost trivial. Almost. During the most anguishing moments, I prayed fervently with Phoebe to Our Lady, and to Our Lord, for strength in this test. For much of the time, Phoebe was holding a crucifix, the enduring image of the crucified God, whose suffering on our behalf made infinite joy possible, now and for all time. Because the foolishness of God is wiser than men; and the weakness of God is stronger than men.

Phoebe, I loved you since we met, but I love you more today. My children are blessed, to have you as their mother. And I am blessed even more. I cannot adequately thank you, nor God for creating you, but I can try to be of service to you both. And so I shall. Amen.

THE MAMA’S MAMA
Phoebe’s mother was on hand for this birth, as she has been for the three previous births. An unsung heroine, Annette takes on the dozens of needful chores that accompany a childbirth: she watches the kids, washes the dishes, runs to the store, does the laundry, and more that I probably don’t even know about. She sews clothes, diapers, and blankets, too. She does as much work as anybody (except Phoebe), and then she’s the last one to see the baby. I want to make sure she knows she’s not the last one to be thanked. Thank you Annette, for everything.

THE DOULA
Michele James-Parham did a great job. She came along with her own little son, Elijah, who played with our kids while she did the douling. She also brought orange Gatorade, to replace Phoebe’s electrolytes and whatnot. (I replaced mine with Miller High Life.) She helped guide Phoebe through the transition and delivery, and even got us the paperwork for government records. She’s coming back tomorrow for a follow-up visit. I would not hesitate to recommend her to anyone in need of birthing assistance. She has a website, which I think could use some redding up. But that’s not her fault.

THE MUSIC
Communion with God is one of those Windham Hill anthologies of inoffensive new age songs. I got the CD for some soothing white noise during Phoebe’s labor. The 15 tracks are all soothing, yes, and relaxing, yes, but I was surprised to find that a few of the songs are astonishingly beautiful. “Be Thou My Vision” (lyrics), a medieval Gaelic hymn translated to English, sings of the awesome gift we have been given, to invoke the infinite power of the King of Heaven and Earth, to come to our aid and be our “sword for the fight.” Other golden oldies from the hymnal on this disc include some fine renditions of “Amazing Grace” and “Be Still My Soul.” The only real disappointment was the publisher’s decison to include somebody or other’s version of “The Wind Beneath My Wings,” a tune I have long despised. But maybe that’s just me.

THE WINE
I had purchased a bottle of Barefoot Merlot for a celebratory toast. Phoebe, Michele and I all had some, and I didn’t hear any complaints. It wasn’t a bad wine (especially for the $5.00 price), lighter-bodied than I expected. I think it would go well with, um, food. Like pizza. I suppose I agree with this assessment: “Bright brick hue. Subdued, spicy nose. A soft entry leads to a moderately light-bodied palate. Quick finish. An inoffensive quaffer. Drink up.”

THE BABY
The baby was perfect. Just perfect.