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CHAPTER 1

THE BEGINNING

The Science of Human Development

I am holding my daughter’s bent right leg in place with all my strength. A nurse holds her left leg while Bethany pulls on a sheet tied to a metal structure over her bed. The midwife commands, “Push . . . push . . . push.” Finally, a head is visible, small and wet, but perfect. In a moment, body and limbs emerge, all 4,139 grams of Caleb, perfect as well. Apgar is 9, and every number on the monitor is good. Bethany, smiling, begins to nurse.

Decades of learning, studying, teaching, praying, and mothering have led me to this miracle at 6:11 A.M., my first-born with her first-born. Celestial music rings in my ears. The ringing grows louder. Suddenly, I am on the floor, looking up at six medical professionals: I have fainted.

“I am fine,” I insist, getting back on the couch where I spent the night. They stare at me.

“You need to go to triage.”

“No, I am fine. Sorry I fainted.”

“Hospital policy.”

“No. I belong here.”

“We must send you to triage, in a wheelchair.”

What should I say to make them ignore me and focus on Caleb?

Another nurse wisely adds, “You can refuse treatment.”

Of course. I remember; the law now requires patient consent.

So I am wheeled down the hall, wait for the elevator, go to Admitting, explain that I was with my laboring daughter all night with neither food nor sleep. I fainted, but I am fine. I refuse treatment.

The admitting nurse takes my blood pressure—normal—and checks with her supervisor.

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“I refuse treatment,” I repeat.

I am approved to leave, so I stand up to walk back.

“Sit down. Someone must wheel you back. Hospital policy.”

I am puzzled. Bethany chose me for her birth partner because of my knowledge, experience, and steadiness. I can interpret numbers, jargon, monitors, body language, medical competence, hospital cleanliness, hall noises, and more. I do not panic; I know that Bethany is strong, healthy, and conscientious. I appreciate all the advances of modern medicine, sadly not part of every birth but available to my well-insured, well-educated daughter.

Consequently, I was grateful but not surprised that Caleb was perfect. I told the triage nurse that I had not slept or eaten all night—true, but I had gone without sleep and food before, never fainting. She accepted my explanation, but I do not. What happened this time?

This incident introduces Chapter 1, which begins to explain what we know, what we don’t know, and how we learn about human development. Emotions mix with intellect, family bonds with professional competence, contexts with cultures, personal experiences with academic knowledge. Much is known and yet new questions arise, surprises occur. I learned more about physiology, relationships, and cognition because I fainted. I also thought more about family and aging as well as about genetics and prenatal care. This chapter, and those that follow, will help you learn as well.