You and Me

We go Together Like Bird in Tree

And we’ll Live our Lives so Joyfully

Ohhhh, Ohhh,  you and me

When I was little, my Dad often spoke of historic events: war, politics and Greek mythology.  One story that I recall being riveted by was the Battle of Marathon in 490 BC.  This old worn tale is one told with tremendous pride by many, a time when the Greeks prevailed over the Persians in the most unlikely of outcomes.  It has been said that Pheidippides, a member of the Greek military and one of their distance runners, ran 26 miles to deliver the news of unfathomable victory.  The manner in which my Father told this story, when I was roughly 5 years old, was with a mix of pride and matter of fact-ness.  He wasn’t one for the overly sentimental.  These were merely events I should know about as I move through life, and their knowledge should shape me into a proud Greek offspring.

So early on in my pregnancy, when my Sister-in Law shared her girls names list from back when she had been pregnant, the name Nika jumped off the page.  I was instantly taken back to my Father’s storytelling.  I recalled  Pheidippides shouting “Nike Nike!”  (Victory!  Victory!) jubilantly sharing his peoples news, and then…he dropped to his death.  It is now thought that Pheidippides collapsed from heat stroke in the tremendous August heat.  But he is honored to this day by the birth of the marathon.  And so, it seemed so fitting to name this miraculous baby Nika, inspired by both the Greek Goddess of Victory and the historically rich word of “Nike”.  Victory. 

The week of Nika’s scheduled arrival, it was discovered she had gone breech (again).  She’d been repositioning often during weeks 33, 34 and 35, and I had given up hope that avoiding a c-section was in the cards.  Amazingly, at a late term ultrasound, we learned that Nika was head down!  I was so uplifted, overjoyed in the realization that we may have a smooth induction as planned.  But by induction week, when I presented to my OB clinic for a routine heart rate monitoring appointment at week 38, she was breech again.  I reluctantly scheduled an in hospital ECV (where they turn the baby externally to push them back to head down) and hoped for the best.  I was worried how she would tolerate the procedure but wanted to give it a shot.   Nika turned successfully during the ECV (a miracle yet again – I credited yogic breathing, the OB I’m sure credited his skill set!).  Exhale.  We were barely four days out from induction day.  We would soon meet our baby girl.

Induction day arrived and once again routine heart monitors were placed on my belly.  The placement of the monitors yielded no galloping sounds (we knew she was fine as she was active, but we also knew this meant she had likely turned yet again).  Nika was victorious.   She was labeled an “unstable lie”  – going from breech to transverse.  It became clear to me that this baby might not remain in one position long enough for a successful induction, and decided a scheduled c-section was preferable to an emergent one.  All I wanted was a healthy baby and the safest way of bringing her into this world. 

And now, a year later, here I sit.  Today is Nika’s first birthday.  It is not lost on me that we celebrate today in a time of war, a practice that’s been ongoing since the birth of civilization.  If you think about victory, one party celebrates as another one mourns.  It always has a yin to its yang.  While I so wanted a second non-surgical birth, it was Nika who prevailed.    

Nika was just a few weeks old when a distinct melody popped into my mind, and lyrics subsequently followed.  I thought it fitting to post those lyrics for the opening of this blog.  I still sing it to her often when soothing her to sleep or distracting her from something she maybe shouldn’t be getting into.  I hope those lyrics prevail for her – that while there may be strife in the world at large, and at times there will be strife within her own world, my wish is that it’s a melody of joy that carries her.

Happy first birthday, Nika.  You are so loved.