George Hopper has arrived!

For many months, nearly a whole year, this blog has lain dormant in an attempt to secure my privacy as I attempted to navigate the academic job market. And, while I'm going to be trying my hand at the market again this fall, I've decided that our newest family addition deserves some celebration of his own, amongst his friends and family.

Nearly one month ago, George Hopper Fram joined our little family, all 10 pounds, 8 ounces, and 23 inches of him. He started life as an expert anticipation-generator, having made Jay and I wait eleven (11!) days past his due date for his eventual, grand appearance. Here's how his story goes:

In the weeks leading up to my due date, I was frantic. Frantically finishing my dissertation, revising it, defending it, and getting things ready for George's arrival. It was a crazy time, in part because I felt so certain (so certain!) that this baby was going to come right on time. He was so low, I had been having contractions...everything seemed right. So April 25th, the due date, rolls around...and rolls away. 

Starting the next day, I began having serious contractions, several times a day. On three separate occasions, I thought for sure the baby was coming. The first time, I called my mom, Jay blew up the pool, we called the midwife--but after four hours, the contractions evaporated. The second time, four hours of contractions in the middle of the night, then nothing. The third time, they were even stronger and felt more like the contractions I remembered when Jupiter was born. I was really, really sure this was it. But after six hours, they quit. I was beyond frustrated and emotionally ragged. That morning, after taking a long walk to try and restart labor, I called our midwife and told her I was ready to take measures to finally move things along. I was ready for the castor oil milkshake.

Our midwife came over around 12:30pm, stripped my membranes (broke the connective tissue between my cervix and the amniotic sac), gave me the welcome news that all that pre-labor had already dilated me to 4.5 centimeters, and made me the milkshake: vanilla ice cream, orange juice, and two tablespoons of castor oil. Surprisingly, it didn't taste too bad. She said to call at the first sign of contractions, and left. I went upstairs to take a nap.

At about 3:45pm, the contractions started. And when I say they started, I mean they STARTED. This was not going to be the slow, marathon-style labor. This was going to be a sprint. I called the midwife and she said she'd be over in twenty minutes. By the time she got here, I was already making noise. Soon after, I got into the tub.

My mom had picked Jupiter up from school and brought him home, but they left the house at about 5:30pm to go get some dinner. Which was good, because soon after that, I was doing things like biting a towel and, well, screaming. But that didn't last long. The first push broke my water. The second birthed George's head. On the third push he was out. At 6:20pm. After 2.5 hours of labor. It was amazing, miraculous, excruciating, and immensely rewarding. Our midwife passed him to me underwater and I lifted him up and onto my chest for his first breaths. He was so big! He was so scrunched! And his cord was amazingly long, as if he had tried to make up for Jupiter's too-short cord by creating one that was three feet long.

With such a short labor, I wasn't nearly as exhausted as I was after Jupiter's birth. It was like he just slipped into our lives one day, this sweet bundle. I just want to eat him up, I love him so.

George Hopper, just arrived.

Jupiter and George.

George Hopper, three weeks old.