I’ve wanted to write about Camden’s birth, parenthood, and reflections on our son, but gosh that sounds daunting. And I feel like it’s such a profound thing, there’s no way I could write about it without resorting to cliches and overly precious “insights.”
And yet, it’s kind of a big deal, so I have to say something.
I was due Oct. 12, but that date came and went with no sign he had any intention of making an appearance. We even experienced a minor earthquake, but that wasn’t enough to shake him out (that’s how labor works, right?). At 10 days overdue, we went to the hospital to help move things along. I checked in at 7 a.m., and my doctor gave me some medicine to help start contractions. 12 hours, lots of walks, and several Flight of the Conchords DVDs later I had made some progress but was stalled out a bit, so the doctor broke my water. HOLY COW that was awful. But then we got down to business and the contractions kicked into high gear. After me freaking out about how painful and unnatural it felt, the nurse decided Camden was probably “sunny side up” – meaning he was head down, but flipped over on his back. Around 11 p.m. I demanded an epidural–best $450 I’ve ever spent. I was able to relax, and Travis and I even slept for a bit. Then around 1:30 a.m. the nurse came in and said it was time to push.
At 2:22 a.m. on Oct. 23, Camden Beck made his official debut, shocking everyone by weighing in at 9 pounds, 12 ounces and measuring 21.5 inches long. Travis helped deliver him. We loved him completely and immediately.
Camden is happy, calm, and heavy. He is a sucker for the sound of waves–that track on our white noise app puts him to sleep every time. He was a trooper on our move from Monterey to Austin at 2 months old, sailing through a 12-hour, 2-day drive and a 2-leg flight. He has no interest in pacifiers, being carried in a sling, or sleeping more than 5 or 6 hours at a time at night. He lights up and giggles with delight when he sees Doodle or Maeby. He will roll around on his play mat all the live long day.
Whenever we do get impatient or frustrated or confused or tired, it’s scary to think about having another child, because he has got to be about as low-maintenance as they come. So part of me feels like if we ever have those feelings with him, how on earth could we manage with, say, a colicky baby who has reflux and refuses to sleep? But of course that’s just the worrier in me trying to take over. Speaking of worrying, I consider it an enormous victory any day I go without having a panic attack imagining all the things that could hurt him in life.
I am loving this time with him, but also can’t wait to get to know him as he grows up and becomes a little person. What will he be good at? What will he love? What will bore him? What will make him laugh (other than the dogs)? How will he treat people? But I’m in no hurry. I’ll learn those things soon enough. I pray every day that he will be happy and healthy, and wise and kind, and that he will know and love God.
I’ve always sort of assumed I would have a boy, and now that Camden is here, it feels like it was always meant to be this boy.