The Colors of Pregnancy

(There are many way I could use to describe the wonder of the birth of our son. This is one I hope makes sense)

Tan. The color of hot, fresh, coffee with 2% milk. When Lisa made my coffee the way I like it and brought it up to me I knew that at moment, in the early morning hours of Thursday, that it was time to get up and get going.

Blue. The color of a crystal clear sky looking down upon the waters of Cayuga Lake. From our room we were able to watch the sky turn from its early morning hue of light blue to a rich, full blue of a hot, late spring day.

White. The color of Lisa's knuckles as a contraction came. Lisa, standing and hunched over the bed, grabbed the sheets and breathed through the pain. Its also the color of the crisp, bleached sheets that she was holding on to. As the color returned to her hands I knew that the peak had passed and it was time for her to rest up for the next one.

Gold. The color of Lisa's hair, down and in her face, lost in a contraction. Hair stuck to her forehead that I would wipe away from her ears for her and gently spoke into to give her words of encouragement throughout the day.

Crimson. The color of Lisa's face during the deep breaths and hard pushes as she struggled to get TJ out. Not one contraction was easier than the other and each one brought this deep color of pain, effort, and concentration.

Red. The color of blood that always is associated with childbirth. It is the blood that connected Lisa and TJ for her pregnancy and gave him life while safely in her womb. It is the color that shot from the umbilical cord when the midwife gave me the scissors to cut it.

Light Olive. The color of TJ, who entered the world mercurial and was slightly green from floating in his first baby poop. Or maybe it was the fact that he wasn't breathing right away - for the first 45 seconds at least.

Pink. The color of TJ, about one minute after he took his first breath. The color of health and life, and cute little babies. A color that had it's own glow to it. A color that rose with each breath and cry.

A picture of labor in full, living color.