Nature Deficit Disorder

I took the baby for a long walk yesterday. I felt the need to get out "in nature" - I was reading a book about camping in the Alaskan wilderness, and just wanted to be out somewhere quiet, in the cathedral-like gloom of a forest, with no one else around. The closest I could find was an old closed-off road that goes through a park. Technically pedestrians aren't supposed to go back there but it was the only woodland within walking distance of our apartment. So I headed down the road carrying the baby in the Snugli. Little birds flitted across the path in front of us. The wind shifted the trees overhead, making the patches of shadows dance. I thought about "the need to be versed in country things" and hoped that as we walked she might absorb some of the peacefulness of the setting and somewhere in her subconscious a love for solitude and nature might be sparked.

But five minutes into our walk there were things I couldn't tune out any more. Like the persistent honking of traffic from the highway next to us. And the regular pounding of hammers from a crew of roofers nearby, followed by the buzz of jackhammers from a construction site that we passed a little later. And the glimpses of houses on both sides through the trees. And the strong reek of raw sewage that apparently the city dumps directly into the creek (are they allowed to do that? really?). As the path dipped under an overpass, I saw a couple of orange construction cones and a sign that warned that this was a lead removal area, and that eating and drinking were forbidden. We kept walking, but we couldn't get away from it all. At all. I then began to worry that at this formative stage the baby might learn to associate woodland with the stink of sewage, and would grow up to hate nature.

Maybe we should move to the country. If we can find some place in the country with decent schools, liberal politics, and no confinement agriculture facilities nearby.

Guess What Book This Is

"Where's this bally Rush got to?" said Edmund a good deal later.
"I certainly thought we'd have struck it by now," said Peter. "But there's nothing to do but keep on." They both knew that the Dwarf was looking anxiously at them, but he said nothing.
And still they trudged on and their mail shirts began to feel very hot and heavy.

This is a shoe-in to guess because lots of people are reading this particular book right now. But it's a terrific book and deserves to be read a lot. I have probably read it a dozen times already and I still really enjoy it each time. I'm reading it out loud to the baby.

Happy Birthday!

Today is my daughter's first birthday!

I can't quite believe that she's really a year old. All day (actually yesterday and today) I was noticing the time and recalling exactly where I was, and what I was doing, a year ago.

3 pm yesterday - feeling the first cramps.
3:30 pm - realizing -omigosh!- those are contractions!
7 pm - walking around and around our apartment, breathing heavily.
10 pm - walking around and around, leaning over the sofa arm, groaning.
1 am - on the way to the hospital, feeling spacey and eager and a little nervous.
4 am - pacing the halls in the hospital in a stylish tentlike gown.
6 am - watching the sun rise, with my midwife at my side, and hearing her say something about how I'm still only in "early" labor. aaaah.
9 am - groaning, pacing, panting.
11 am - crouching in the tub. It doesn't help. Starting to feel panicky, like I can't keep ahead of the pain; asking for an epidural.
noon - blessed relief, lying in bed after the epidural. The room was dark, and my husband and I both dozed. I thought of how soon I'd have my baby in my arms, and my eyes filled with tears.
2:30 pm - time to push. Painful but exciting. I felt totally focused on the job at hand.
3 pm - the birth! seeing my beautiful baby for the first time, feeling how real she was as she wriggled on my chest, warm and wet and dark, all long limbs and big dark eyes. Feeling totally in love with her and with my husband.
5 pm - eating dinner with one hand while I held my baby with the other.
9 pm - surprise visit from my brother, after my parents and husband had gone home. In the warm, quiet room, we marveled together over the baby.

It was a wonderful birth day for her, and an experience I'll treasure always. Probably the best thing that's ever happened to me. I remember I held her in my arms and nursed her all night long, only putting her down briefly to go to the bathroom. I couldn't take my eyes off her. I felt that little surge of happiness that you get sometimes when something particularly good happens to you - but I felt that way for hours and hours on end.

And now she's a year old, a whole year of discoveries behind us. She's grown from a little 6-pound swaddled bundle whose only desire in life was to nurse, nurse, nurse...to a real little person who kicks and struggles and growls at me if I take too long getting her dressed - a person with ideas and a sense of humor, with my husband's ears and her grandmother's eyes and my dark hair. She's spirited and playful. We love her so much it hurts.