October 9: Electrical Work

I was so thankful I hadn't tried to get to the homestead the day Caleb was born. That day, I wasn't sure I could navigate the stairs to get outside, let alone step over the mountains and trenches to get in the trailer to sleep. But Caleb, having been awake off and on through the day, woke up at 11pm and was wide awake and interested the rest of the night. I would turn off the light, only to hear little moans, so I would turn the light on and feed him and then we'd look at each other. He cried out a few times, and each time he did that, I would think how wonderful it was that I was in a room by myself and Phil was finally getting a full night's sleep, away from little grunts and cries.

I love the first few days after a birth. I might not be remembering correctly, but it seems like the emotional high is so strong that I have enough energy to enjoy the baby, even on very little sleep. So Wednesday I spent a marvelous day: I showered, I went downstairs and upstairs, I read the book of Joshua (some good Caleb mentions in that book), I deleted 200 emails from my inbox (leaving only about 500 to go ... oops), I wrote his birth story. It was quiet and peaceful and very sweet.

Phil's day was good, but not quiet, peaceful, or sweet. He made himself get up much earlier than he would have preferred. He moved the cows and made sure they had plenty of water. Because the power would be out for hours, he wanted them to have enough food that they wouldn't be pressuring the electric wire, and without power, he couldn't water them later.

In a great moment of providence, the utility locate man arrived at 8am. He had done a locate a couple of weeks ago, but it expired after 13 days, which was Monday. There was no guarantee the locate would happen on Wednesday, as it didn't have to happen until Thursday. The work would probably have gone forward without issue, since the lines were still clearly marked. But legally, since Phil was digging up electrical lines, it was an extra layer of insurance: if Phil cut something that wasn't where the utility marks had been, they would have been liable. Anyway, it was an extra layer of relief.

Without enough time for Phil to eat breakfast, the electrical company showed up. For about five hours, Phil dug trenches and holes: trench across the driveway, remove a transformer and a T and replace them on the other side of the driveway. He had a good time with the guys, who had a good rapport, and he hit no major rocks or anything else. We have electrical service to our barn now.

And after they left, about 2pm, and after Phil had a bite to eat, he reconnected the service to the freezers and the trailers, and was done for the day.

I got a sweet text in the afternoon. "Hi, mommy. How is Caleb? I was wondering if we could come over to see you and Caleb again today. Goodbye. -Abraham" I think Abraham is the most mature-sounding 7-year-old I know. (When asked how he had slept the night I delivered, he replied, "Once I feel asleep, it was smooth sailing, as I didn't wake until morning. But I didn't fall asleep right away. I didn't hear you moaning, but I heard the baby screaming and screaming and screaming.")

Jadon and the grandparents stayed at the homestead to make Jadon's pizza for dinner, but the other brothers, Phil, and Gramps came to see me. The brothers apparently came inside with huge smiles and ran right up to see their brother.

Caleb was wiped out. He fell asleep around 9am and slept all day, partially waking to eat before dozing off again. I was concerned that he wouldn't be able to sleep in the night, but that ended up not being a problem.

So he slept through his brothers' visit. We admired various things, though: the umbilical cord, tied off with a rubber band, rather like a smaller version of those used to castrate cows. How much nicer than the inch-long plastic clamps still in use five years ago, that irritate the skin and catch on diapers! Diaper technology has changed in the last five years, too, as there is a wet-sensor stripe on the outside, that changes from yellow to blue when wet.

The midwife had come for a follow-up visit, and she had a Kleen-Print Footprinter for Caleb's baby prints. This is a brilliant invention: a thin layer of ink on the back of a piece of plastic. Put the ink side down, put Caleb's feet on the plastic, and make the marks. The ink goes where it needs to, the baby stays clean. Brilliant! (The boys were impressed with the residual ink. They had a good time while we were talking.)

And as we talked about Phil's day, he gradually sank lower and lower against the wall. And then he fell asleep, right on the floor. (In the photo, he had not yet started to sink down, but he looks so tired.)

I sent them all home again, without me or the baby.

Once again: good thing. I was awake most of the night with severe after-birth contractions. They finally quit about 4am, and I am, of course, happy for a body that is returning to its non-pregnant state. But I was free to moan and thrash in peace, and read and type with the light on, without wondering about disturbing anyone else.

And last, a funny story. Back in the spring, Cheri had given me two onesies for the baby: a flower and butterfly one in case the baby was a girl and a firetruck one in case the baby was a boy. I had made sure I had them both for the birth. But somehow, in the midst of getting the covers changed on the night of the birth, the firetruck onesie went missing. I mentioned it, but Phil basically said, "It's after 3am. Who cares what he wears? And, besides, maybe it got stuck in with the dirty sheets and everything."

So I didn't press the issue. After all, there are male biologists and entomologists who study flowers and butterflies. That's fine.

Wednesday night, so after two full days of photos and introductions, we suddenly realized that the firetruck onesie was not in the dirty clothes laundry. "Wouldn't it be funny if it was just under the bed?" I asked. And, fifteen seconds later, there was the missing onesie.

Oh, did we laugh!