October 2011
HAVING A BABY DURING A FULL MOON
28/10/11 01:02
October 8th, 11:30pm and Valerie is knee deep in labor at this point.
With birthing classes under our belt and an open mind, Val decided it would help our child if she went without medicine as long as possible. This way she could help keep drugs out of the baby’s system and be alert to do everything she needed for the baby.
3 1/2 hours went by. She faced every contraction with determination. She knew it was in the best interest of Bean. I coached her through each contraction. And they came at 3 minute intervals. As they increased, she went deeper and deeper inside herself. When I would ask her a question, I would have to put my ear next to her lips to hear her answer. But every time I asked her to take a deep breath and release it she would. Every time I asked her to stand up, or sit down or lie down she did it quietly, slowly and deliberately. Still, she never complained. She just closed her eyes and kept breathing. The nurses were amazed as we later found out that most women who need to be induced skip the natural childbirth idea and go straight for the drugs.
At the end of the 3 1/2 hours, Val said, I’m interested in an epidural but I don’t want to be wimpy. Is it wimpy to get one now? I stayed quiet because I didn’t want to answer a question that only she could answer. The nurse agreed it wasn’t wimpy at all. Val had the presence of mind to ask a few pertinent questions and then decided she was ready. I took a walk while the doctors put the epidural needle in and came back to a smiling pregnant wife. It was like night and day difference.
As the night wore on, more and more pregnant women came into the birthing center. This morning the nurse told us their was a big influx of patients because it was a full moon. Val and I looked at each other and Val whispered, “Have you ever heard of a red headed werewolf?” I shuddered to think of such. “Let’s just birth this baby and worry about which barbershop to take him to later.” And with that she turned over and took a nap.
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WHAT REALLY HAPPENS DURING LABOR
Looking back at my last post, it’s surreal to see where my head was at and what actually happened in the delivery room.
As you may remember, after 3 1/2 hours of Valerie trying to endure and work with induced contractions, the nurses were relieved to hear Valerie say she would accept an epidural. And within 20 minutes she was doing so much better. She could once again carry on a conversation, smile and even eat lemon ice from a cup.
And then night turned into morning. And then the afternoon followed. Still, the contractions were not powerful enough to help the baby descend. And as the afternoon begin to see the sun set again from our picturesque MGH window view, 32 hours after labor had begun, Valerie had finally dilated to the point where the final push could begin. It was 5:00pm. We all hoped it might take an hour but the truth is, most first time pregnancies can go for as long as 3 hours. Well, I just figured my red-headed Irish wife wasn’t like most women and we’d birth this baby in one hour. All I can say is, all the hours of birthing classes and birthing videos wouldn’t prepare me for what I was about to witness.
The nurse began to explain to Valerie how she was supposed to push. The idea was to wait until a contraction began to build. As it builds, her job was to take a deep breath then push with all her might. Then do it two more times in the course of the 40-60 second contraction. Then rest up for the next contraction which could come within 2 minutes of the last one.
And with that, I remembered the breathing exercises from class, the hypnotherapy classes I took as a college student, and even the coaching from my tennis days. At that moment I decided to become my wife’s personal breathing coach.
The next contraction was starting and she was no longer breathing alone as I was there to breathe with her. I told her to take a deep breath and then to push with purpose. To push with a focus of where that baby was coming out. She gulped in a fresh breath of air and began to push. She turned red, her eyes closed, she grimaced and pushed with more might. I told her to focus. To be strong. She let out the last of her breath and sucked in another and pushed again. I was six inches from her face telling her to do it for Conor. It was time for him to come out. She pushed like a mother does when she’d do anything for her child.
And the next contraction began to build. She would whisper ever so softly, “Here it comes,” and the nurse would get down where she could see things and start her coaching which would set me into motion six inches from her face. I would say, “Okay, your time is now Conor’s time. You need to push and get that boy out of there. It’s time. And she would take her breath and push with meaning. I would say, “Focus that breath. That breath has a purpose. Be strong. Push, Push, Push, Valerie. Good. Let it out. Take another big breath and let’s do it again.” And again, she would grab a big breath out of the air and use it for herself, focusing it downwards where the baby needed to come out. And I would tell her kindly, “Push, push, push. Be strong, be strong Val.” Earlier in her pregnancy, Valerie had told me that her name means, “healthy and strong” so I had tucked this phrase away knowing I would use it on this day so that this as a private bonding word that would give her extra strength for the most important moment of her life and that of our first son.
Well, this repetition went on for 3 hours without fail. The clock was directly above her head so I watched every minute roll by as I hovered over her bed. My back hurt. My feet hurt. I was concerned from the lack of progress made by Conor coming down the birth canal. I was devastated at the pain endured by my wife. But my focus never waivered.
Our nurse, Susan was excited by the intensity of the process and at some point invited me to look at the progress of Valerie’s efforts and I will admit that in spite of my brother instructing me not to “look south or else you’ll faint,” I looked to see my son’s head and hair not far from this world. He was getting close to being born. This caused me renewed vigor to coach my wife into breathing with determination and focus. And she responded like few people would do. And remained in the zone as she had done with her first breath over three hours ago.
Finally, the doctor came in to see how close the baby was to birth. Her news was not good. We all took a break to hear her description of the situation. She reported that the baby had moved into the birth canal but had not come down far enough for her to use other techniques to coax the baby out. She was getting concerned. She asked Valerie if she was ready to call it quits. She said that most women who had pushed for three hours were ready to give up and she would recommend that we strongly consider doing the same.
Valerie said that she wanted to give birth without surgery if at all possible. The doctor looked exasperated but wanted to be true to Valerie’s wishes, too. She was clearly concerned and was trying to balance the safety of the baby and the wishes of Valerie. She took about 10 seconds to think it over. She then said that her staff was leaving the room for two minutes and for Valerie and I to talk it over. But to realize the health of the baby would soon be at stake. Val wanted to ask her another question as the doctor began to leave but the doctor turned around sternly and said, “You have two minutes to think this over. It’s your decision but I won’t put this baby in danger. Time starts now,” and with that she turned on her heels pulling the nurses out with her. I was surprised at the doctor’s attitude but realized she was sending the body language to us that this was serious and that bedside manner be damned.
We told the nurse if our baby wasn’t in danger and could safely take another series of pushes that we wanted to keep trying but not at the expense of our baby’s health. The doctor was surprised. “You want to keep trying even after 3 hours of intense pushing, Valerie? I’m telling you, no one’s going to blame you for giving up after 3 hours.” Valerie looked at the doctor and said, “I’m not giving up. I want more time. I can do this.” The doctor was impressed and shook her head with appreciation. “I’ll give you 1/2 an hour more time, Valerie. We can do that much safely. After that, if there’s no change in Conor’s progress, I’m taking over the decision making, okay?” We both whole heartedly agreed to give her the last say after this.
And the pushing began again. The coaching started anew. And this time, Valerie didn’t cry between pushes. Instead, she gathered her wits, her breaths and her courage. And pushed with a determination to which I never knew she had. I call it the American pioneer woman spirit. I was always impressed with how the female pioneers of America would cross the country in a wagon or walking and do so without whining, crying or collapsing. They would give birth along the way, endure starvation, go weeks without a bath and walk in dirty clothes and crappy shoes. I like a beautiful woman as much as the next man but I like to know my wife has what it takes to survive if the time ever demanded it. My wife in this last half hour proved to me that I had married a woman who was 100% woman when times allowed and had that pioneer spirit when that was asked of her.
I’m going to get ready and the nurse is going to explain what’s going to happen next. Next time I see you, you’ll have a brand new baby boy. And with that, she turned and left.
(SEE NEXT BLOG FOR WHAT HAPPENS NEXT)
TIME TO EVICT OUR BABY FROM MOM
It’s been an amazing 9 months for my wife and I as we near the end of her pregnancy. It has been a time for us to grow closer, dream bigger and worry like we’ve never worried before.
After 14 days of extra lodging inside mommy, it’s time for our newborn to come out into the sunshiny world of Boston in October. After 42 weeks in the mother’s womb, complications can occur that can harm the baby so our doctor recommended intervention. It’s also called induction.
As I sit and write this, my wife is walking around the delivery room in her johnny (hospital gown for the Euro crowd); looking out the window, checking out the baby warmer and eating a chicken salad sandwich. We have recently been informed we could be here for days. Days? What? I thought things moved along fast now that medicine was intervening. Not so.
We arrived at 9:30am to MGH in Boston and we were admitted promptly to our room. It’s a nice room and it’s private. Our nurse, Susan, is very friendly and is very good to Val. Our anesthesiologist, Steve, is a graduate from my alma mater, the University of Texas, and he seems quite knowledgeable and nice. The resident doctor, Andrew, is fab and is very communicative as to what to expect as the day(s) progress.
It was then that we realized that an induction is a process that can take days, not hours. Valerie and I looked at each other with our jaws dropped. We’ve been reading books, going to regular doctor visits, taking a five week birthing class and nowhere along the way did anyone say anything about taking days to induce labor.
The doctor went on to explain that it’s not good to trigger the contractions right away until the rest of the body is also ready to “receive the baby.” It takes time for the birth canal to open up and become flexible enough for the baby to come out. So you don’t want to start the contractions if the birth canal isn’t ready. The doctor starts the process with a little pill that relaxes the birth canal. One every 4 hours. And between each pill, they check to see if the cervix is opening properly. During this time, the opening of the cervix could trigger contractions to begin. That’s a good bi-product because it means the body is taking over and no more artificial means may need to take place.
If contractions don’t start on their own and yet the cervix is beginning to open to around 3 to 5cm, the next step is for the doctor to administer pitocin. Pitocin will definitely trigger contractions to start. And since it is a medicine to kickstart the contractions, the contractions are stronger and they hurt more. Perhaps a lot more.
But at the moment, it’s all here-say because my wife is just laying in bed wondering what will happen next. She says its the calm before the storm. I’m looking for an umbrella.
WHEN TRADITIONAL LABOR TURNS C-SECTION
As the doctor left our delivery room after 36 hours of labor, the nurse prepared Valerie for the operating room. Both Valerie and I felt defeated. For all the effort, the tears and the energy, Val would have to undergo a c-section which meant that she would not get to experience traditional childbirth or get to see the baby right away. She would also not get to breastfeed immediately. And of course, it would take much longer to recover.
Valerie spent a few minutes trying to wrap around the new plan that was now underway. I was concerned that both Val and our son’s health were now in jeopardy. The doctor assured me everything would be fine. The nurse explained that I was to put on the scrubs that an orderly had brought into the room. As soon as the surgery was underway, a nurse would escort me into the operating room. The nurse explained it would be in my best interest not to look at Valerie until they had positioned me behind the curtain where it was safe to look about. With that, they wheeled Valerie out of sight and I was left alone with my thoughts.
I took the moment while waiting for the nurse to come get me to call my dad to tell him what was happening. We had recently mended fences after years of separation and it was good to confide in him my nervousness about what was happening from a husband/father point of view. My dad listened compassionately and gave me words of encouragement. I won't lie, I spoke with tears in my eyes and sniffles and in true form dad told me to pull it together. I didn't really appreciate that comment to be honest. I had pulled it together for 36 hours of seeing my wife in pain. I needed a moment to share my real emotions and while he listened sympathetically, I think he thought I was not handling the situation with confidence and of course I was. But even the strongest people need to share their true feeling with someone. Still, I knew my dad was just trying to remind me that I had to be strong for Valerie and he didn't know these tears were my moment to get rid of them so I could put on the confident, positive face in just three more minutes. I didn’t scold him for his comment. I took it in the spirit it was given. We hung up as the nurse said that it was time to bring the baby into this world. I put on my surgical mask and hair net and didn't even think about how they wear these same nets at McDonald’s and The Picadilly Cafeteria.
When we entered the OR, it was really busy. It seems there were about 8 people standing around Valerie and I didn't dare look. I already know her inside and out but didn't want to know literally. I thought I saw some body organs sitting off to the side but I'm hoping I was wrong. I went to Valerie’s side and asked her how she was dinged she smiled through tears. I asked if there was anything i could do. She whispered, “Could you please say a Hail Mary for us.” So I started to say a very quiet "Hail Mary." Then I realized she was saying it with me so I said it a little louder. Then I realized I could barely hear her because of the suction of the machine sucking at her body fluids on the other side of the curtain. There were machines beeping, doctors barking out orders and swooshing sounds of body liquids. I started praying louder so she wouldn't hear the sounds of her inner body being opened, pulled and sucked. As Val laid on the table, her body was being jostled as they pulled the baby out of the birth canal and back up into the womb. You could hear the doctor directing the other doctor as if he were an air traffic controller guiding a plane in for a landing. I left the "Hail Mary’s for a few "Our Father's." It helped drown out the noise and it begin to give me confidence again. Valerie was strong and said her prayers right with me. Then the tugging stopped and the chatter got quiet. Suddenly a baby's cry filled the room like an opera singer at the MET. It was the most beautiful sound in the whole world. And instantly, our prayers had been answered. We prayed with more vigor now, thanking God for the gift he had just bestowed on us.
The doctors and nurses cheered and hollered congratulations to us. There was laughter and ooing and ahhing. A nurse hollered "8 lbs 14 oz.” Then a nurse came to our side of the curtain and told me to grab my camera so I could meet our new son. I grabbed the camera and walked over to the warming table where a kind African American nurse was finishing cleaning off my son, Conor. She asked me if I would like to cut the umbilical cord. After all we had been through, cutting an umbilical cord didn't seem all that queezy to me so I grabbed the scissors and cut the cord that separated my son from his mother. He was now a free man. I snapped more pictures but found it very hard to wrap my head around the fact that he was my son. It just wouldnt sink in. Regardless, I knew that he must be mine and so I kept talking to him as if he were.
Then Nurse Amy came over we took the baby over so Val could see him. Valerie had a big smile on her face and she looked longingly at our new son. Her arms had been strapped to the table so that she didn't accidentally move during the delicate surgery which now meant that she couldn't hold the baby. At least she could see him and talk to him. I took pictures and even a little bit of video to record the moment for all time. Only one time in your whole life will you have a first child and look into his eyes for the first time and this was that moment. And it was indeed momentous. It was surreal. Our lives as we knew it would never be the same again after this moment. A lot to take in and it flooded forth like the waters over the New Orleans levies during hurricane Katrina. I continued to take pictures as if I could slow down time in bite sizes so I take it all in. The responsibilities continued to pour in faster than i could sort them out. Little did I know that two weeks later I would still be trying to sort it out and wrap my head around the awesome responsibility I now faced.
Finally, a nurse came over and explained that because Valerie had gotten a slight fever during labor that the baby needed to be checked out further in the nursery and would have to be treated with antibiotics to ward off any infections that might ensue. I asked the nurse if I could come with her. She explained it was against hospital policy but that she would reunite us soon. I hated hearing that and I think it's wrong that a dad can't accompany his newborn when he undergoes a few tests in the nursery. But now was not the time to make a scene and I was just so happy that he was alive that I let him go with the nice nurse.
As they begin to sew Valerie back up, I was invited to go back to the delivery room we had been holed up in for the last two days and the nurses explained that Valerie would be along shortly. I got back to the room feeling relieved after all that had happened after 36 hours of labor. I remember leaving my dad only minutes ago concerned for the safety and health of Valerie and our son so I decided to call him first to tell him everything was okay and that everyone was safe and healthy. He was not only relieved but also touched that he was the first one to hear the good news. I think for a new dad to call his dad to tell him his new son is alive and well is a nice passing of the torch. We said goodbye and two proud fathers were left with our own thoughts. Soon, Valerie returned to the room and we looked at each other proudly and compassionately. We now knew each other more closely and intimately than ever before. Valerie had been to the brink of what is humanly possible and I stood with her every step of the way, never leaving her side for so much as a bathroom break or a moment to rest my aching back. It all seemed so trivial compared to her efforts.
Now I could sit back as she lay back. The nurses brought our son back into the room and they placed her on Valerie's chest. Our family was back together. And I never let either of them out my sight until we left the hospital five days later.
And that is how our family of three began its journey together on October 9, 2011.
PINNOCHIO - THE MAKING OF A BOY FROM SCRATCH
Last night, in the spirit of making a boy of our own, my pregnant wife and I watched the movie, “Pinocchio” as we relaxed after dinner. Curled up on the couch, we were amazed at how well the film held up 70 years after it was first made. The story was very imaginative and didn’t seem trite after all these years. The animation is as good as anything we see today. And the music is tons better than the crap they sing today. (Okay, that comment made me sound like my parents.) But really, there’s a rap song created by Immortal Soul and even that angry gangsta uses Pinocchio’s song, “There are no strings on me” for his rude angry lyrics about George Bush and Bill O-Reilly on Fox News.
I think my favorite character in “Pinocchio” is not Pinocchio himself, or even Geppeto, the woodworker who made him, but Jiminy Cricket. Jiminy Cricket is hilarious because he’s supposed to be Pinocchio’s conscience but he’s so wrapped him is his self ego that he keeps giving up on Pinocchio which causes Pinocchio to get in deeper trouble. It’s such a great commentary on how the ego is what gets us in trouble every time. Innocence is to blame for many people doing the wrong thing, but ego is responsible for not allowing us to see the error of our ways and therefore, us getting into really deep trouble.
In true story form, the climax came when Jiminy Cricket and Pinocchio survived all their trials and tribulations and won the right to come back home to Pinocchio’s father, Gepeto. But instead of finding his father and they all living happily ever after, Pinocchio found that his father had left home to find him. So instead of the movie being over, Pinocchio had one last obstacle to overcome; he had to find his father. This was the greatest scene of all for his father had gotten eaten by a whale and was living his his belly. And Jiminy Cricket and Pinocchio had to find the whale and rescue his father. This was a very imaginative scene where Jiminy and Pinocchio had to think of a ways to keep themselves from floating back to the top of the ocean as they walked the bottom of the sea in search of the whale.
In the end, Pinocchio discovered a way to get the whale to open his mouth so they could escape. Pinocchio was so focused on saving his father that he was willing to give his own life. And as a result, the fairy that gave him life the first time, came down to Earth and resurrected him so he could live again, this time as a real boy. Yes, you’ve heard this theme before in a story about another great son who wishes that he were just a real boy, but that’s where the similarities ended for me.
We went to bed very content and can’t wait for our little boy to be born any day now. As of today, he’s 10 days overdue.
9 DAYS OVERDUE AND COUNTING
03/10/11 22:30 First of all, let me just say you’d never know my wife is 9 days overdue. She’s still cheerful, fun and looks hot! We went to a friend’s party on Friday night and stayed until 1am. It wasn’t my wife who wanted to go home, it was me. Then Sunday, we decided to have an impromptu party for some of the neighbors and smoked Texas ribs for 12 people. Again, my wife had a lovely time from beginning to end.
Because we’re past our due date, the doctor wants to see us every couple of days to make sure the lunar module (the placenta) is still in good shape. If the amniotic fluid is still clean and healthy, then the baby is in good shape. If the amniotic fluid begins to disappear or the baby’s not eating any longer, then it’s time to get the baby out.
So Monday morning, we headed off to the hospital. Val had a new sonogram done and I was really looking forward to seeing what the baby looks like now that it’s fully grown in there. When the nurse rubbed the jelly stuff on my wife’s stomach and started taking pictures, I wanted to ask for a new technician. This woman was looking at parts and writing down notes and saying, “good” and “that’s great” and I’m thinking, “no it’s not! I can’t see anything. Where’s the baby? Where’s the legs and feet and hands and all that?” All i could see was blobs. I finally couldn’t help myself but ask why she couldn’t take any better pictures than that. She said the baby was big now and that it’s all squashed up in there. The camera doesn’t have a wide angle lens. All we could see was what was right in front of us. Well, I was happy that Bean was big and strong but disappointed I couldn’t get a glimpse of what he would come out looking like in the next couple of days. The doc was able to confirm it was a boy. She pointed to his testicles but I might as well have been at the MOMA in NYC because it was all abstract to me. I’ve never been that close to a set of testicles and don’t ever hope to be.
The doctor kept talking about inducing labor which means to use drugs to relax the muscles so the contractions will start but as long as my wife is happy, we’re not going to rush anything. Bean’s going to come out when he’s ready and we don’t want to rush the little guy.
TIME FOR A SECOND OPINION ON DOG VS. BABY
Early on in my wife’s pregnancy, I wrote an article on how dogs and newborns get along (click here.) As the final week approaches until our first child’s arrival, we decided to get one last opinion on whether our dog can handle a newborn and whether or not we needed to beware of anything. So, after finding a trainer that specializes in training police dogs as well as public canines, we decided to have our dog evaluated by a respected trainer.
We arrived in the quaint and upscale neighborhood of Brookline Village as the sun was setting. I easily found a parking place and fed the meter its quarters. It ate them like a hungry dog at dinner time. Then myself, Val and El Dog marched across the street to the training center. There were dogs milling about and El Dog was extremely alert as the strange dogs passed by.
As we entered the facility, we were told to go downstairs where our trainer, Francis, was waiting. We pointed out that our dog wasn’t perfectly socialized and may cause a stir. The trainers said, “Great, you’re at the right place. Go downstairs where the dog will get socialized.” So we headed into the basement via the creaky, narrow staircase.
When we got downstairs, there was a class going on and there were 6 dogs in a perfect down stay as a clown of an instructor was skipping around, making a loud racket, juggling tennis balls and letting them fall where they may. The exercise was to teach the dogs to remain in a down position even with the highest distractions around them. It was teaching them self control. It was working. Only one dog popped up to play with the tennis balls. The others were bored and looked at their owners to see if they might be able to play. The owners did not give them permission. It was impressive to watch.
Meanwhile, our dog was excited as hell and wanted to run into the room and grab tennis balls and wreak havoc. El Dog looked at me and I shook my head,” no.” He begrudgingly succumbed and stopped pulling on the leash. Then Francis, our instructor, came over to evaluate El Dog. He pet El Dog and El Dog sniffed him and decided that Francis was okay. Francis asked Val how far along she was and when she said 9 months, he suggested we get started training immediately. We all laughed. Seems everyone has a joke about a pregnant lady ready to give birth.
We explained that we were a bit concerned about our dog around a newborn because while our dog is nice around adults, he’s not great around other dogs. The first thing Francis asked was, “Do you let your dog get on the furniture?” We acknowledged the dog gets up on the couch, the bed and the chairs. He said, “Not anymore. When transforming the dog’s behavior, the dog first needs to know his place in the home. He's a dog. It’s important he clearly knows where he fits in the pack. He’s at the bottom. When the dog understands this, he will begin to listen to what you want him to do.”
It’s important that the dog know his place and be happy in that place within the pack. When the baby arrives, we want the dog to be happy there’s a baby in the house, not disappointed with the baby. And he said that it’s easy to do. He asked us if we had a baby doll that could stand in for the real baby that was on its way. We told him we had one. He said, “Do you have the baby powder and diaper cream and other stuff that you can put on the baby doll?” We told him that we did. He said, “Great, put it on the baby doll and pretend that baby is your baby. Walk around the house and gush over it like you will your real baby when it arrives. When the dog comes over to check it out, it gets treats. Then when it decides the baby is no big deal and that it can lay down, the dog gets a treat for that, too. It’s good to be around the baby and its good to leave it alone. That's the message.
Valerie had lots more questions. “What if the dog thinks the baby is an animal and wants to eat it? The trainer looked at Val like she had three heads. “Why do you think the dog would want to eat your baby?,” he asked. “Well, you hear about those things in the news,” Val said matter-of-factly. The trainer agreed that these things happen now and again but that it’s rarely the fault of the dog. It’s almost always something the owners did with the dog that eventually ratchets up the dog to do something drastic.Val pointed out that our dog wasn’t exactly social around other dogs and would this cause El Dog to act differently than most dogs? The trainer said, “Well, do you mind if I take El Dog and work with him for a minute?” ”Go ahead,” I said, “but I need to know that you’re not going to do something drastic with my dog like pick him up off the floor by his leash or anything like that because that’s not okay with me.” He said that’s not how he trains dogs but that it was a fair question. So I gave him El Dog and he put a pinch collar on him and took him out into the room with the other dogs and had him stand there while the other dogs were in a down-stay. El Dog just stood there and watched the other dogs. At one point, he decided he wanted to smell the doberman closest to him and the trainer gave him a stern pop of the leash and El Dog no longer was interested in sniffing the doberman. After about 3 minutes in the middle of the room with the other dogs, Francis came back with El Dog and said, “I’ve seen enough to tell me what I need to know.” Val and I both leaned forward and said, “Well, what did you see?”
Francis said, “Your dog’s not even on my radar.” We leaned closer. Francis continued, “If your dog was aggressive beyond a healthy dose of canine aggressiveness, He would have lunged, at those dogs. As soon as I gave him a correction, he backed down and said, “Francis, you’re the boss.” He allowed me to be the protector. Your dog is good, trained and smart. He just needs to be fine-tuned. He said that many Pitt-mixes have a dose of aggression but that’s it’s natural and they simply need to know how to control it and channel it through play, exercise and self-discipline.
He went on to talk about how important it is for a dog to know that his owner will protect him if he’s in danger. And if he knows that, that he won’t take it into his own hands. For a new baby in the house, it’s important for a dog to have a crate to use for sleep and time-outs. And this crate is their personal space and it’s their place to go when they need to de-stress. The dog needs to know that when it needs a break from the baby, it can come here and the baby can’t get to him. The dog also needs to know that the owner will protect the dog from the baby beating on him, yanking its hair, or riding him. If the owner can keep the baby from doing those things, then the dog will never see the baby as a danger and will enjoy the baby’s company.
After an hour of talking to Francis, we felt comfortable that he was the trainer for us as we learn how to fine-tune our abilities to train El Dog and continue to socialize him with other dogs so that he’s a pleasure to take on walks with our newborn no matter who we come across on the streets.
As we begin to wrap up our conversation, a few people with German shepards began to arrive and a trainer came in dressed all in quilted leather from head to toe. I recognized this from videos; shutzhund. This is a very specialized training for advanced dogs. As part of the training, the dogs are taught to attack on command. We found ourselves in the middle of a class of attack german shepards. El Dog was on full alert. The first dog marched around the room with his owner looking every 1/2 second at his owner as they walked. This dog was amazingly attentive and alert. He looked like he was having fun. Then the owner took him off his leash and gave a command to attack the trainer. Suddenly, the dog went from alert and smiling, to growling, barking and biting. It was a treat to watch a dog channel his aggression appropriately and only on command. El Dog was at full attention, he head was straight up and cocked to the side, trying to figure out what was going on and his tail was wagging.
Francis said, “I”d really like for El Dog to visit a couple of these classes as he gets more comfortable around other dogs. It would be very healthy for him to be able to lie down even when another dog is acting aggressively. This will really proof him to pay attention to you and Valerie even in a highly distracted environment. Once you prove to yourselves that you can handle him in this environment, you’ll be empowered that you can take him anywhere and control him.
We agreed that it would be amazing if he could control himself in the midst of such aggression nearby. We said our goodbyes and headed upstairs and out the back door into the dark alley. As we exited onto the safety of the Brookline Village sidewalks and onto the perfect village storefronts, it was like stepping out of a movie and back into reality. We looked at each other and begin to laugh, “What just happened back there?” It was surreal. In a dark basement in snobby Brookline Village, was a team of African American dog trainers teaching police dogs how to attack criminals and young professionals how to control their dogs on the quiet streets of provincial Boston. And after an hour in the underbelly of Boston, we had been regurgitated back into the safe, quiet, picture-perfect streets of one of the most prestigious neighborhoods of Boston.
We took El Dog back to the car, locked the doors and dipped into a chic Italian restaurant called, Pomadero, and I sipped a red wine and had spaghetti while Val had Carbonara and settled for water. After all, she still can’t drink for three more days. Or until our first child enters the world and rides El Dog, our pit-mix, into the sunset.