how we missed our own 15 minutes
apparently justin and i were on the local news last night (although not, as you might expect, because i gave birth in target). we thought we might be, as the local nbc affiliate's cameraman set up his gear right next to us in public square at the end of the cleveland orchestra's annual concert and fireworks display, and we called justin's mom and grandma to let them know. but we rushed home to watch the news and found that when the "story" aired we weren't in it, so we turned off the tv and went to bed.
this morning, however, we learned that at the end of the newscast they showed more highlights and we were the final shot. of course, we were upstairs by that time, laughing about how we always get our picture taken at events but never make it into the paper. oh, well.
the concert is a local tradition and we go every year. the downtown streets are closed off and about 100,000 people bring their lawn chairs and tow their kids in wagons and camp out in public square and guys with messenger bags sell those neon necklace thingies and the hot dog vendors do a brisk business under their red-and-yellow-sectioned umbrellas. the orchestra does the usual patriotic numbers and a little gershwin and the local public radio/tv culture guru emcees and it's a lovely cross section of cleveland.
last year's concert sucked hard-boiled eggs, to put it nicely. we seemed to be planted in the section where everyone with toddlers was situated, and i cried the whole night. the pain of hans's death was still so raw, and i was in that phase where i saw him everywhere anyway, and that night was particularly haunting.
last night was bittersweet but much easier than last year. the fireworks were staged differently than usual (i don't know enough about fireworks to explain how), but as a result we were closer to the noise than usual, and as the fireworks went off milo expressed his irritation. we'll have to have earplugs for him next year, i suppose, but i wonder if he'll be interested in the visuals. i can't imagine at 11 months they'll maintain his attention for the whole show, but it might be interesting to him for a few minutes, and by the following year or so i imagine he'll be old enough to be delighted by them.
i hope to god there's a next year for milo. i'm overwhelmed by how close we are to his birth but at the same time increasingly terrified and convinced it's all about to go down the toilet. i've never given birth to a live baby. i can't imagine what it will be like. it's not for lack of trying. i've read and re-read everything i can get my hands on about the subject, and i try to visualize it, often. but my experience is only with dead babies. a live birth is unfathomable.
this morning, however, we learned that at the end of the newscast they showed more highlights and we were the final shot. of course, we were upstairs by that time, laughing about how we always get our picture taken at events but never make it into the paper. oh, well.
the concert is a local tradition and we go every year. the downtown streets are closed off and about 100,000 people bring their lawn chairs and tow their kids in wagons and camp out in public square and guys with messenger bags sell those neon necklace thingies and the hot dog vendors do a brisk business under their red-and-yellow-sectioned umbrellas. the orchestra does the usual patriotic numbers and a little gershwin and the local public radio/tv culture guru emcees and it's a lovely cross section of cleveland.
last year's concert sucked hard-boiled eggs, to put it nicely. we seemed to be planted in the section where everyone with toddlers was situated, and i cried the whole night. the pain of hans's death was still so raw, and i was in that phase where i saw him everywhere anyway, and that night was particularly haunting.
last night was bittersweet but much easier than last year. the fireworks were staged differently than usual (i don't know enough about fireworks to explain how), but as a result we were closer to the noise than usual, and as the fireworks went off milo expressed his irritation. we'll have to have earplugs for him next year, i suppose, but i wonder if he'll be interested in the visuals. i can't imagine at 11 months they'll maintain his attention for the whole show, but it might be interesting to him for a few minutes, and by the following year or so i imagine he'll be old enough to be delighted by them.
i hope to god there's a next year for milo. i'm overwhelmed by how close we are to his birth but at the same time increasingly terrified and convinced it's all about to go down the toilet. i've never given birth to a live baby. i can't imagine what it will be like. it's not for lack of trying. i've read and re-read everything i can get my hands on about the subject, and i try to visualize it, often. but my experience is only with dead babies. a live birth is unfathomable.
posted by laura at 5:56 PM
6 Comments:
Sorry you missed your 15 seconds of fame!
I understand completely what you mean about the closer it gets the more scared you are that the s will hit the fan. The closer I got with Kam, the more scared I got that it would all be taken away.
When I finally was induced and got hooked up to the monitors, it was such a relief. And then when he finally came out, it didn't even hit me right away. They plopped him on my chest and I remember thinking, "Ewwww...he's all slimy. Can someone wipe him off??" It took a good couple of minutes for the whole fact that it was FINALLY over and he was ALIVE AND HEALTHY to hit me. I didn't actually cry until he was in the nursery being bathed with Matt and the nurses and everyone left me alone.
It's so close...Milo will be here soon and it's going to be just wonderful.
Take it from me...alive is easier. Sure, you get less sleep, but it's definitely easier.
I remember thinking over and over that I had NO idea what happens when a LIVE baby is born. All I knew was that odd silence, and the hushed voices, and the sobs. I didn't know what else to expect. That was what I knew. There were still tears, and sobs, but it was a much better experience when Evan was one of the ones crying. You are almost there. You'll make it.
Laura, I am sure when Milo is born, and he is alive and kicking and screaming and wriggling about, you will know what to do because it will be the best moment of your lives. It'll blow your mind how good this will feel.
It is unfathomable. But you're about to blow yourself away by what you're about to do, when you strap Milo into that baby seat and drive him home from the hospital.
If you don't believe, I'll believe for you.
I feel more scared the closer we get, too, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. While I do have experience giving birth to a live baby, I do not have the experience of giving birth to a live baby that I got to see and hold immediately before having to be rushed off to NICU, or that I got to bring home. I am trying to visualize the best, but it's hard when my actual experience and memories of being here before come into play... Do whatever you can to get through it.
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