I have two small children whose births are fresh in my mind: midwives and fear, moaning and blood, toast and unbelievable happiness. So I was looking forward to Knausgaard's description of Vanja's birth but I don't even know if it was any good because while reading it I was reflecting on the births of my children, and crying. On a bus. Surrounded by children on their first day at school.
The tears were likely caused by sleep deprivation, which itself was definitely caused by the younger screech weasel. To gain any perspective on this passage I will have to re-read it while emotionally unconnected with my children, which will probably be never. At the very earliest it will have to be after a good night's sleep, which feels like it will be never.