Enjoy!

Hello, David Sklar’s readers! This is E. G. Diehl (a DP stealth author more commonly known as DokodemoElisa), and I jumped on the blog-tour bandwagon just in time to catch the topic on fathers. I must say, this is a topic close to my heart, and it also happens to be a topic close to my budding authorial career. So, without further ado, it’s story time!

I started working for the family business (a ServiceMaster franchise) as soon as it was legal for me to do so. I was very enthusiastic about the idea of making my own money, but I was also far too young to be spotted doing janitorial work or cleaning carpets and floors alone. Thus, from the get-go, I spent all of my time in my first job either working with my dad or my uncle.

It’s no small wonder I didn’t drive those poor men mad. To keep my mind busy while I dusted and emptied trash cans, I whistled, sang snippets of songs I didn’t know very well (usually Disney), and talked incessantly. I had a grand time, really, and some of my fondest teen memories are of the times I spent in the car between jobs with my dad. We often talked about fantasy novels I’d borrowed from him, or barring that we entertained one another by bickering (most often in a good-natured best friends sort of way. Dad and I can be a bit like siblings, and we’re remarkably similar, stubborn people). Our two primary modes of conversation merged about a decade ago when I started writing novel-length fantasy fiction. When I was too young to know better, I wrote a winding, cliffhanger-riddled, melodrama-prone thirteen novel series that Dad couldn’t have gotten me to not-talk-about if he’d taped my mouth shut.

So, not long after I started weaving the worlds that were growing in my school notebooks to my dad in the car between floor jobs in grocery store bank branches, my dad started telling me I should publish. The argument, which repeated itself until I was in my mid-twenties, ran something along the following lines: Dad would say that I should publish. Worse stories had been published and sold reasonably well, and there was no reason that I shouldn’t be making the money they were making. I, in turn, would fervently object to the very idea on the grounds that the series was a work in progress, needed more editing work than I could imagine devoting to it in a single lifetime, and had been written by an inexperienced kid with delusions of grandeur (that last bit sprung up in varying degrees, and far more often in the later phases of this conversation series). I was, perhaps, excessively worried about finding myself humiliated by my own work in the unlikely event that somebody actually did find it worth publishing.

Dad, through sheer persistence, ultimately won the argument, but in my defense, by the time he won, he had managed to get Mom on his side. I was outnumbered. Also in my defense, the two books that are scheduled for Drollerie Press e-book release this summer have nothing at all to do with the series I wrote in high school. Nor do they have anything to do with the five other books I wrote between that series and this. Still, I’ll admit I never would have taken the time to submit anything to anyone if it weren’t for my parents’ unwavering drive to convince me it should be done. Incidentally, Mom and Dad also kindly loaned me a room in their house for eight months between my three-year sojourn in Gunma, Japan and the start of my grad-school studies at the University of Hawaii, during which time I finished the last 60,000 words of the second book and put forth an uncomfortably fervent effort to find a publishing home for the first.

Now, instead of presenting my dad with the hundred and ten reasons I don’t want to publish, the conversations we have on the phone often go as follows: “Hey, Elisa, did they release your book yet?” “No, Dad. Believe me, I would have called you if that had happened.” “I thought you said that was going to happen this summer. I checked that website. I don’t see any news about your book.” “It’s not there, Dad. Believe me, I’d have called you if that had happened.” “Are you sure they’re working on it?” “Yes, I’m sure. Everyone’s very busy. It’s a really small company, and everyone has a lot on their plates. It’ll happen. I’ll call you as soon as I know” and so forth. I would swear he’s more eager and impatient about this than I’ll ever be. Conceivably he’s earned the right. He’s been the wind blowing in my (reluctant) publish-these-things sails since years before I’d conceived of the hero character who shares his middle name.

No, the middle name they share isn’t “Stubborn” or “Unrelenting.” It’s a little more mundane than that, but you’ll have to wait until the silly things have actually been published to find out what it is. Until then, I’m not telling!

Look for the full post to come out on June 21. 

Vivian’s Story

Drollerie Authors Blog Tour Post, May 21^{st, 2009Vivian Belgrave is the mother of Clara in my story “Dead Woman Walking.” She’s a handful. You can read more about her in the “Bump in the Night” anthology that just came out from Drollerie Press.There are no mothers of any worth in the old tales.}

I am a woman of strength, of stature – the Belgrave estate has been in my name for the last ten years and I have managed it, without the aid of a man. I have managed my life. I am present. I am powerful.

Yet even as I feel this child growing in my womb, I see it in their stares when I wander through the market, hear it in their concerned words while on my way to handle the trading of the grain. You need a man, their stares seem to say. You are weakened by your burden, their subtext whispers.

Lessened. Diminished.

I am far from diminished. Do they not know the skill I possess with the Craft? Have they not seen how my property outgrows even the wretched Fowlers’ every year? Have they not seen the abundance of my estate? Even as my pregnancy quickens, I feel the Craft growing ever nimble in my hands. One day, I will be more than a match for Fowler with his handy spells and tidy potions. One day, he will not cast his shadow over me, with false proposals of marriage and degrading propositions.One day, I will have everything he took from me.

Because I am powerful.

In other news, however, Shadow of the Antlered Bird has picked up a five-star review at the new site Poddy Book Reviews.  It’s a new site, so I’m not sure how high the standards are or how many people read it, but the reviewer compares my book to “how Leonard Cohen grabs you by the brain and forces you to ponder the meaning of his poems, or the lyrical quality of his songs.”

Sarah has moved up from the Level III NICU on the 2nd floor of the hospital upstairs to the step-down clinic on the 3rd. That’s an important step up, because it means she’s that much closer to coming home, so that Andrew can stop resenting his sister for taking us away from him and start resenting her to her face. I hope we can manage better getting Andrew and Sarah to get along than we did getting Andrew to get along with the cat.

Rachel caught my cold, and she had a high fever and malaise yesterday, so after her appointment at the midwife’s I took her and Andrew home, and I went to visit Sarah on my own. Got there just in time for the 8:00 feeding, and Sarah was wide awake and crying when I got there. I managed to calm her down while the nurse warmed the breast milk I brought from home, and I gave her the bottle. She took most of it easily, and there was less than 1/5 of an ounce left at the end.

The nurse gave me a bit of a hassle when I talked about letting Rachel breastfeed Sarah when she comes in tomorrow–but that was the night nurse; someone else will be there in the daytime.

These are low-detail images, because I wanted them to be easy to upload. If anyone out there wants high-res files, let me know.

1. Rachel feeding Sarah. The NICU is timid about breastfeeding because Sarah has been having trouble eating and breathing at the same time (so much to keep track of!), so Rachel is giving her expressed breast milk in a bottle.

2. Rachel feeds Sarah while Andrew and Grandma Susan watch on

3. Me holding Sarah while my mother pretends she’s not plotting to steal my child and take her home to Michigan.

Anyway, Andrew woke up as I was putting these online, so I’ve got to go now.

Update:  Rachel called as I was putting up this post to let me know that they let her breastfeed Sarah.  Unfortunately, the breathing and eating thing is still a problem, so she had to pull the breast away and pump, and Sarah will need to take the rest from a bottle.  Sarah’s got a good suck reflex, though, so Rachel should be able to breastfeed her as soon as her nose gets a little unstuffed.

But I got to hold her for a long time before my shoulder got tired and I passed her off to my mother.  It’s a wonderful thing to hold your baby for the first time. 

The bad news from tonight is that there was another baby being admitted shortly after we arrived, so we had to spend about 45 minutes in the waiting room while they did that and then did rounds (because the times coincided that way).  And while we were waiting, Rachel was thirsty and got an iced tea from the vending machine.  But Andrew was there (they let siblings visit on Sundays, regardless of age) and got too much of Rachel’s iced tea.  Which made a terrible mess of bedtime, because the excitement and the caffeine had him jumping on the bed for way too long.

Will post another picture soon. Got a lot of good pics tonight but haven’t had time to go through them all.

So today was a big day. Tomorrow should be bigger. Will be the last day my parents are here, the first day Rachel’s father comes to visit, and the day when siblings are allowed to visit.  So we’re gonna bring everyone and hope they bend the rules on the number of visitors per day.

Hope to have a pic of Sarah up soon, once I’ve figured out how to upload them to the blog, and once Rachel and I have conferred on which one to use.

Rachel is home from the hospital tonight but still in a lot of pain.  Sarah is still in the NICU.  She’s breathing normal air and eating through a feeding tube, so things are looking mostly positive, but there are a few other issues that will keep her there through the weekend. 

Hopefully we’ll know soon if she’s getting out by Monday or staying a little later.

Rachel’s water broke around 11:30 on her birthday (12/28).  We called our midwife, our doula and our parents (both Rachel’s and mine, who also doubled as our childcare), then got what sleep we could and, when contractions still had not begun the following day, drove in to the hspital at 1:00 pm, leaving Andrew in care of my parents.

By 2:30, there were still no contractions to speak of, so the midwife ordered pitocin with our consent, at a lower dose than was used last time.  Labor progressed steadily but painfully (Rachel had to be in bed because of the monitors and had to be monitored because of the prior cesarean), and at 8:00, with transitional labor beginning, received an epidural at her request.

Shortly after the epidural was completed, the fetal heart rate fell precipitously, then returned to normal.  The midwife ordered a delivery team on standby for cesarean, then, when heart rate returned to normal, decided to proceed with vaginal birth but keep a surgical team on standby.  Rachel was fully dilated and the baby was fully effaced with her head very low in the pelvis–in other words, just about ready for delivery–when the heart rate fell again with the second push and the midwife ordered cesarean delivery.

 The surgery was more difficult than previously, because of scar tissue from the first cesarean.  Rachel needed additional pain relief, and the anesthesiologist sent me out of the room almost as soon as I’d come in because she needed her full attention on Rachel’s condition, without a nervous husband/father sitting there to distract her.  Further complicating the birth, the umbilical cord was wrapped several times around Sarah, including once around her neck, and as soon as the uterus was opened, she squirmed to the side and tried to block the doctors with her hands and feet.

At birth, Sarah had difficulty breathing and required resuscitation but became responsive almost immediately.  However, pulse oxygen remained problematic, and they put her on continuous positive airway pressure (CPAP).  Her chest x-ray is normal with some fluid in the lungs (mostly Rachel’s blood from the surgery, as far as anyone knows), but Sarah has been transferred to St. Joseph’s as a precaution in case any other complications arise. 

The transport team from St. Joseph’s suctioned the maternal blood from Sarah’s lungs, and she seems to be breathing much better.

The doctor who was supposed to be the backup for the cesarean missed most of the delivery because River Road was closed off by a traffic accident.  However, he arrived on the scene and tried to clear up some of the adhesions and scar tissue before the final closure.  He also came by this morning to debrief us.  He expects Sarah to be out of the NICU in a week or less, though, being a medical professional he knows better to make any promises, and we knew better than to ask for one. 

I was beating myself up last night about allowing it to progress this far, but after considering the facts and discussing it with Rachel and with a couple of professionals, it seems very clear that the complications that prevented vaginal birth had nothing to do with the previous cesarean, and the only complication caused by the prior cesarean was the scarring and adhesions that made the cesarean delivery so difficult.

I will be going shortly to visit Sarah in the NICU.  The NICU nurse has reported over the phone that the CPAP tubes have been removed and Sarah is currently on observation.  She will probably remain in the NICU for 5-7 days because she needs antibiotics (Rachel swabbed positive for strep B before delivery).  It will most likely be a couple of days before she can take milk (she is currently being fed intravenously), but her bowels appear to be functioning properly.

All in all, I’m very happy with the job done by our entire birth team, especially our doula, the anesthesiologist, the midwife, the doctor who gave us the report afterwards, and the physician overseeing his transport (I haven’t asked for consent to post people’s names just yet). We are all hopeful for a swift recovery and return home.