JackJack

He goes by many names: Jackers.  JackJack.  Sugar dumpling.  Honeysuckle. Jackety-Jack.  But no matter what we call him, he is loved beyond words.  And here is his story.     

One year ago, today, I woke up feeling funny.  Not stand-up comedy funny or amusing blog entry writing mood funny.  The kind of funny you feel when someone in your belly is planning on coming out soon but not right now-ish, but still kind of soon-ish, just not real time definite-ish.  Not necessarily “I am going to have a baby today-ish” but also not “I am NOT going to have a baby today-ish.”  You know? 

I was very pregnant, but not due for another week.  I had a 10 o’clock in the morning meeting with a consultant that had to happen before I started maternity leave.  For weeks I had been experiencing low to mid-grade contractions.  They hurt.  Despite what baby books and my doctor call Braxton-Hicks (i.e., “false”) contractions, these were the real deal.  And I knew it.  I just didn’t know when they would be over. 

It was Monday morning and as I felt another mid-grade contraction wash over me, I wanted to lie on the couch, but knew I had to be at the office.  I put on work clothes and trudged into the office.  I lamented to my office mate that I had been feeling contractions for weeks and worried that they would never stop.  I would be pregnant forever.  Labor would never really start. I would simply be in this state of discomfort and low to mid-grade contractions for several more weeks.  She assured me that I wouldn’t.  You’re turning a corner, she told me.  You’re really close, she cheerleaded. I breathed through another contraction and hoped she was right.  God, I hoped she was right. 

I sat in the meeting, anxiously looking over my shoulder at the clock on the wall.  The consultant on the other end of the table looked at me in slight irritation and said, “I noticed you keep looking at the clock.  Do you have a phone call you need to be on or something?”

“No,”  I replied.  “I am just timing contractions.”

He was a bit flustered. 

The meeting ended abruptly, at which point I called my doctor.  I told the nurse that I thought I was in labor, but wasn’t sure.  Could I get Dr. Burns to check me out and advise?  The contractions were strong and regular and I would really, really, REALLY like to be examined before I decided on next steps, I told the nurse.  She was more cavalier than I would have liked.  “Well, let’s see… I don’t know.  The doctor doesn’t have an opening until the afternoon…” 

O.K.  New tactic.  I informed her rather edgily, that I would not go home from here and I would not stay at my office.  I was simply trying to decide between the doctor’s office or the hospital.  There would be no going home to the couch at this point.  Understand?  Now, WHERE. SHOULD. I. GO?

She understood.  Come in right now.

I left the office and drove to see my doctor.  Multiple contractions washed over me while waiting for her and I flipped through Parenting magazine with a mix of excitement that it might be the day and worry that she might actually just send me home.  As she came into the examination room she watched me breathe through a contraction and decided it was the real thing.  I was in labor.  I was in labor!  BOO-YA!  She did check my measurements just to have a baseline to provide the hospital and then advised me to go straight to the hospital.  She called the hospital and told them I was on my way.  Weeeeeeee!

I paused on my way out of the building and bolstered myself against the building as I breathed through another contraction.  Calling Chris, I asked him to meet me at the hospital.  “Are you sure?”  He had to pack up Jay and Ella and get them to Grandma before meeting me at the hospital.  This was not a breezy task.  He needed certainty that it was really time before setting these events into motion.  An edge came over my voice as I said, yes.  I was sure.  I was really freaking sure. 

Of course, I did have to stop at Target.  I had not bought Jay and Ella’s big brother/ big sister presents yet, and clearly, this meant that I could not have a baby until these presents were bought.  And wrapped. 

Curses.

Pulling into Target I breathed through another contraction.  Walking into the toy section, I breathed through another.  Selecting their gifts, I breathed through another.  Walking to the cash registers, I breathed through another.  Fumbling through my purse for my wallet, I breathed through another.  O.k.  I got it.  It was time to go to the hospital.  Still, I could not shake the fear that once at the hospital they would send me home, rolling their eyes at that pregnant lady who thought she was in labor but was really just over-reacting. 

Slowly, I drove our manual green station wagon to the hospital.  On the way, I sat through most of a green light as I breathed through another contraction.  FYI, when in labor, never drive yourself to the hospital in a stick shift.  Operating the clutch mid-contraction kind of sucks. 

Parking in the hospital parking garage, I got out of the car and headed into Labor and Delivery.  I braced against the elevator door as I breathed through another contraction.  Arriving on the third floor in between contractions, I strode into triage but was told I didn’t need to be seen there.  Having spoken to my doctor beforehand, the staff was confident I needed a private room.  And how.

Chris arrived within minutes.  Becca arrived shortly afterwards to act as Doula.  We joked.  We breathed.  We swayed.  We tried a few different labor positions.  I moaned and rocked and swayed and breathed.  I can’t say if this lasted a half hour or three hours. But while the contractions were getting stronger, they weren't getting any closer together.  We made the decision to break my water to see if we could help the process along.  

That did it.  Wow.  That did it.  

Suddenly, the contractions became intense and quick, with mere minutes to recover in between.  I breathed and moaned through each one, wondering if I should ask for pain relief.  By the time I was ready to ask for some help with the pain I suddenly had the undeniable compulsion to climb into bed.  I climbed into bed.  A watery memory now, I know the nurses said something about waiting to push until the doctor had checked me and declared it ok to push.  Rubbish.  It was time.  Jack and I knew that. 

Filled with that instinctual and time immemorial urge, I pushed.  Another contraction, another push.  A mere four minutes later (four minutes!) Jack, beautiful Jack, was born.  Upon seeing him for the first time, I wept while my heart exploded with joy.  I have been skipping on clouds ever since.  His easy smile and joyful spirit make everyone in the room light up.  Scrumptious beyond description, I get lost in his eyes when we nurse. We totally lucked out.  

Dear JackJack, 

Having evaluated you for a full year now, your trial period is over.  I think we’ll keep you. 

We are ecstatic that you are part of our family and that you have delicious neck rolls and ticklish thighs to keep us entertained. Most of all, we are ecstatic that you were born in our lifetime and we get to share our lives with you.  Each day brings us your wonderful grin along with some new trick or surprise. Maybe it's the discovery that you like peek-a-boo or can now initiate a rousing game of “Chase Jack around the coffee table” or finding out that a silly toy that crunchy granola moms buys for their kids because they are BPA- free and chemical free and totally bland and boring actually frightens you or that hey, you like avocado, or that you love to hug.  Every day is like a birthday to us with you in our lives, Jack.  

Thanks for a whole year filled with joy and love, and here’s to many, many more celebrations of your life.     

Love always,

Mama