Here We Are: October 2012

On Friday, my family celebrated the life of my Aunt Nelia (wife of my mom’s brother Gregory and mother to my cousin Brendan), who, after a five-year battle with cancer, passed away on October 15^th. She lived in Walla Walla, Washington, but wanted to be buried in Ottawa, next to my Grandpa Phil, who died on Christmas day, 2007.

The funeral was beautiful – a true celebration of life. At the reception following Mass, Greg shared a few words about Nelia and how peacefully she approached her journey home. She was not afraid – she was ready. The heart which had known many sorrows was finally at peace and she was happy. It was so moving to hear Greg speak of her last days, knowing that her race is run. As Greg said, she is now on the far shore.

After a brief reception in the church hall, the family proceeded to the cemetery for the burial service. The celebrant said a few prayers and then we were all invited to pray and say our private goodbyes. As I knelt by the casket I felt a strong sense of peace, as though Nelia were sharing a taste of her newfound gift with me. She always had a generous heart.

The rest of the day was spent at Grandma’s house, the hub of the Bourassa family. We shared food, stories, laughter and tears. I was especially moved by how humbly Greg shared his love for his wife and his grief at losing her. He did not hide his emotion, nor was he overcome by it. He was philosophical about Nelia’s passing, as he is with most things, knowing that she is happy and that his own life will carry on – but he was also candid about the challenges he knows lay ahead, and the heartache of journeying on without the company of his beloved partner.

Since hearing the news of Nelia’s death, I have reflected a lot on how quickly life passes – how momentary it all is in the face of eternity. Nelia’s journey is over now – there’s no second lap, no curtain call. She lives on with God, but her work here is done. No matter how deeply I ponder that reality, the significance of it still seems to elude me. Done. Accomplished. Perhaps this is because being done is only part of the story; we were made for eternity, and although our limited minds feel more comfortable within boundaries, the sense of eternity within us still bucks against the concept of ending. Maybe I find it so hard to conceive of not seeing Nelia again because at the deepest level of my being, I know I will. This knowledge doesn’t make it easy to be separated from a loved one, but it certainly soothes the sting of loss.

I have also been prompted to think about opportunity, outreach and regret. I think it’s common to feel, when someone dies, the longing to go back, to have another chance to know them better, to reach out more often, to show more love. Regrets can bind us with their shackles of hopelessness. I don’t think God wants us to be shackled by our failings – instead he urges us to learn from our shortcomings and choose differently when the opportunity arises to love again, to reach out to someone else, to spend more time this time around. After all, the person we wished we could have loved better is now in the company of perfect love, but those with us here can still benefit from our caring.

I feel for my uncle and cousin, but I know their hearts will heal. They are men of faith, and know well the beautiful truth that through all the changes and challenges of this life, God remains. And I’m sure that Nelia will watch out for them from heaven, making her presence felt in the details of their lives, as she did so aptly here on earth.

Our second son, James Philip Gordon Marshall, was born on September 16^th at 4:38pm. It was a perfect day.

I woke up that morning with Liam at 6:30, after a full night’s sleep (the concept of uninterrupted sleep seems so distant to me now!). Nana, Papa and Daddy were still asleep, so Liam and I went to the basement to watch Thomas and Friends and do a prenatal yoga practice, respectively (!). A couple of hours later, I noticed that the Braxton Hicks contractions which had become so frequent in the last weeks began to feel different. We had planned to go out for breakfast and to Mass with Bill, Susan, Liz and Chris, so I decided to pack my bag for the birthing centre in case we didn’t have time to come home. My contractions continued over the course of breakfast and increased in frequency and intensity during Mass. We went to Blessed Sacrament, and Brendan and I spent most of the Mass in the nursery, where we would hear what was happening upstairs and I could breathe and sway through my contractions without distracting anyone. After Mass I called my midwife to give her an update. We agreed that I should go home and call again when I felt the contractions become a little more intense. About an hour later, we were on our way to the birthing centre.

By 2pm, we were settled in our room and our midwife had measured my progress: I was at 4cm. I felt a rush of relief at that announcement. During my labour with Liam we were sent home from the hospital twice because I was not far enough along to be admitted. This time, I wasn’t even really in pain yet and already at 4cm. I was glad to know that things were progressing well.

My contractions continued regularly for the next hour and a half, increasing in intensity but still not causing me too much pain. We decided then that it would be a good idea to eat, so we chose from the centre’s menu and put on an episode of Arrested Development while we waited for our meal. My labour progressed rapidly in the short time it took to prepare the food. Just as the midwife returned to our room, I had two extremely intense contractions back to back. “Ok, I think I should check you again,” she said calmly. I laid down on the bed, hoping she wouldn’t say 5cm. It was only 3:45 though, so I wasn’t expecting much progress. “7cm!” she announced, smiling. She then called the second midwife to come assist with delivery. The pain was becoming difficult to manage at this point, so the student midwife who was with us drew a bath for me. Getting in the water offered significant relief. The contractions were now excruciating, but I was able to relax completely between each one, which helped me to cope. It wasn’t long before I felt the need to push. I got out of the tub and onto the bed. On one of the first pushes, the midwife realized that the membrane was still intact, so she broke it for me on the next push. I pushed again and out came the baby’s head. A final push and he was born, at 4:38pm. I was on my hands and knees, so they slipped him under me and I was able to hold him right away. I was completely overcome with emotion. I felt triumphant – and so in love with my precious boy.

Brendan and the midwives helped me onto my back for the afterbirth. Brendan cut the umbilical cord and I waited somewhat nervously to deliver the placenta. When it came out a few moments later I was again filled with a sense of relief. This process had been more complicated the first time. Liam had passed meconium in utero, so when he was born, he was immediately whisked away to have his lungs aspirated. One of my midwifes this time around explained to me that having my baby taken from me so abruptly may have caused a surge of adrenaline in my body, which would have stopped the normal course of labour. I would also have missed out on the oxytocin (a labour inducing hormone) that is released in a mother’s body when she holds her baby immediately after birth. Perhaps for these reasons, or possibly others, my placenta stayed put after Liam was born. When 30 minutes had elapsed, the doctor reached in to get it, which put me into shock. Needless to say, I did not want to repeat that experience, especially without an epidural! So delivering James’ placenta was the crowning of a perfect birth experience!

For the next two hours, I held my baby to my breast and waited for him to nurse. He needed a bit of help, but eventually he figured it out. I enjoyed those first few hours of his life – watching him open and close his eyes, suckle gently, and begin to take in the world outside the womb. Brendan’s parents brought Liam to see us during that time. He was immediately interested in the baby, wanting to touch James’ tiny hands and nose, and placing his own ball cap on the baby’s head. After our visitors left and James had finished his first feed, the midwives checked him out. He weighed in at 7lbs 13oz, and measured 21 inches. They found him to be perfectly healthy, and since I was also doing well, we were allowed to go home. We pulled into our driveway with our new baby at 8:15pm, just 12 hours after I felt the first hint of labour. And although I had contractions for about 8 hours, I was only in pain for the last hour. I had hoped for an easier labour this second time around and I certainly got it!

Bill and Susan stayed with us for the first week of James’ life, which was a tremendous help. All I did that first week was look after my baby (making sure, of course, to let Liam know that I was still his mama too!) – Susan kept the household running masterfully while I slept and nursed my newborn. I recovered very quickly from the birth and felt well enough in the second week to start going back to some of my regular activities with Liam – playgroups, outings to the park, and so on. I’m grateful for how smoothly the transition has gone.

I wondered, before James was born, what it would be like to love another baby. Now I’ve experienced what I had heard other moms say: your heart grows exponentially with the gift of each child. I love my little James so much. I am honoured to be his mother, to be entrusted with his precious soul, and I look forward to getting to know him as he grows.