Welcome Home
Jack,
It's hard to believe you've been with us for nearly a week already. You still seem so fresh and new; the excitement of your arrival more than tarries- it thrives. Let me tell you about your birth day...
One week ago today, Sunday, July 2nd, your dad and brother and sister and I got up and made our way to church, followed by naps, and then finished the day at the Old Fashioned Independence Day Celebration at church where your brother went down the 10ft inflatable slide into a pool 500 bazillion times with kids twice his height. Your daddy took Madalyn to the inflatable jumping room where she repeatedly beckoned, "watch, daddy, watch!" and chanted "jumpin' monkeys," a song she and your brother often sing when they jump on our couch. (That's a no-no, for future reference- jumping on the couch.) While daddy watched Madalyn and I watched Evan, the contractions first began to set in... you were on your way!
I didn't mention it, though... Madalyn's early labor had been proglonged and I expected the same from yours. Didn't want to cry wolf. But I went from walking your brother up the slide line and making him stay in place, to letting him have a free for all. He quickly learned how to bypass the entire line, flitter up the ladder past the others, and scoot down the ledge past the four up front to have another immediate turn at it. I figured by the time you're doing it, I won't bother to get on to you at every turn, so why nag him? The other kids could fuss at him and he could fend for himself... a feat he was surprisingly successful at, by way of playing deaf. Some kids complained to him, but others encouraged him because he was so much smaller than the rest. And really, what kind of 8 year old gets bent out of shape over a three year old going ahead of her? Still, there were those. But I'm getting off track... the point is that this was when I first knew it wouldn't be too much longer... couldn't be too much longer...
So we headed home and put your siblings to sleep. We baked the usual late night cookies and sat at our computers like the usual nerds that we are, when I could tell the contractions were coming on more regular and labor was definitely impending. So we called in the troops and told them that even if you didn't come that night, it would probably be good that they headed down from Ocala.
They arrived, and the night passed with little sleep and much snoring on your father's part. Morning came, and still the contractions were 7-10 minutes apart with no sign of intensifying. Your dad and I went for a walk- four times around the apartment complex- and I got contractions on the same two hills every loop. Come noon or so we just couldn't wait any longer. We would go to the hospital and state our cause for them keeping us there. We weren't sleeping, we had help on hand, and daddy was missing work... it was high time.
The receptionist and nurses laughed at us when we said I was in labor. "You don't look like someone in labor," they'd say. "She's just tough," your daddy would insist. But like I was saying, the truth is that they weren't yet intense. I guess that's just the way this body works.
So they stuck us in a check out room and took a look. 5 cm dilated and they spotted your hair- dark she said- which supposedly meant my water had broken. A few hours later, in an official labor room and permitted to stay, much to our relief, the midwife made a visit and announced I was 7 cm and my bag of water was still very much there. It ended up all being perfect timing, though, because without Pitocin or any other aid, the labor picked up speed and around dinner we were ready to push. (I say we because your daddy always seems to push harder than me.)
You were harder to push than your sister had been... easier than your brother. You came out "OP"- (translation: face-up)- which explained the difficulty, and had a cone head to boot. They put you from my womb to my chest and you buried your head in my gown and cried out soft sounds of newness. Your cry seemed softer than I remember Evan or Madalyn's being. You still (so far) don't cry as much as they did. It takes you a lot longer to work up a good wail. You'll even- GASP
But when they placed you there on my chest, how do I describe what washed over? Joy, pure joy... magic... heart-shattering, earth-quaking bliss? And how do I describe you? Beautiful, utterly beautiful... exquisite, whole. A masterful creation we feel humbled to have entrusted into our care.
You weighed in at 7 lbs, 4 oz., and measured 21 inches, making you the longest of the three McDonnell newborns. What fun it would be to have you all the same size for just a moment (HA- definitely just for a moment,) to compare your features, your similarities and differences. Sometimes you look like Evan and some features say Madalyn... but mostly you have your own look. A "Jack" look.
The pediatrician who saw you in the hospital said you looked like a boy. "The kind to come up to you with frogs and lizards in his pockets," he said. I heard our nurse tell you, while she was changing your clothes, that you won the prettiest baby award, then she corrected herself- the handsomest baby award. When my friend Leslie was visiting (I have a witness) a random staff person stuck her head in the room and said she was told she just had to come get a look at baby Jack. Then this same thing happened again when another staff member entered the room. At the mandatory class- the one where they tell us things like not to put a baby on their stomach (this will result in SIDS) and not to let them sleep at night but wake them to feed them (or they will starve) and how to not get pregnant again (birth control)- and while we sat through this patronizing session, twice people identified you as baby Jack. First the instructor, "Ohhh, this must be baby Jack," and then the nurse she was learning under, "yes, that one had a circumcision- that's baby Jack, right?" The other affirmed that it was him, and then turned to tell us, "Baby Jack's famous here... nobody can get enough of baby Jack." (This almost started a fist fight among other attending mothers... one who even voiced that she wanted to know why they all knew who Jack was, what was the big deal while your daddy and I tried to distract her with quick compliments over her little Anthony, although inwardly I couldn't help but wonder if the child was named after a Sopranos character because the parents were somewhat mobsteresque.)
But you see, it's not just me; at two days old God gave you favor with all of the hospital staff, and whether you continue to find favor among men or not, may you always find favor with God.
After your delivery and your first feeding, daddy brought Evan and Madalyn to meet you. Orlando was celebrating the 4th early with a firework show at Crane's Roost- precisely situated between our house and the hospital- making precisely the worst traffic situation possible. So after much anticipation, and long past their bedtime, they arrived at the hospital to meet you- you who they've been waiting to meet for nine long months, (and at least they got a wonderful view of the fireworks out the hospital window as a bonus.)
Evan was more tender, more sedated by your splendor than I ever could've imagined, or have ever seen him. You were everything he'd waited for and more it seemed. He just stared and smiled and kissed and kissed and stroked and talked. He asked you what you dreamed about and told you he was sorry your water broke. On his second visit he began to sing Jesus Loves Me to you when we laid you back in the bassinet, like we sing with him at bedtime. He sang the whole song, heart-filled and clear, and then he began to pray, unprompted; "Thank You for baby Jack. Dear Jesus, thank You for baby Jack." Amen, sweet Evan, Amen!
Madalyn was sweeter towards you than I expected. She kissed your head and nuzzled you, and talked in a sweet, nurturing voice to you. Mostly, though, she was leery of all the hospital equipment she associates with her catheter exams and exhausted as it was so long past her bedtime hour. She and Evan each went into other patient's rooms at this point and that, and Evan even climbed into bed with a woman and her baby, thinking he was approaching his baby.
The first night at the hospital was constantly interrupted, as is routine, for vital sign checks, form fill-outs, and other things of the sort, but you slept. The second night you slept, too. On my chest. Your father kept the whole maternity ward awake the night before with his snoring and I insisted he stay home the next night, which meant I had no help in getting you down, which meant you slept on me... which I loved.
Exactly 48 hours after your birth, on Wednesday evening, you had your PKU and we were allowed to return home to your two anxious siblings, a home-cooked dinner from Honey, and a beautiful welcome sign and cake made by all. Your brother and sister were SO EXCITED to see you and hold you. They couldn't believe you were here to stay. I still can't.
Since that day you've slept in the co-sleeper next to our bed, and on my chest, and in your crib for naps. Your daddy has slept on the couch. Still snoring. Now considering surgery as he reads it's genetic and hits at a certain age.
You definitely know who I am. When you hear my voice you calm- you're more tuned in to me than the others were, I think... hard to remember exactly how it was. But if you're upset just the sound of my voice settles you, which is amazing considering the tone you've heard my voice take- and the volume- for over nine months now. When you're awake, you're very alert. You take everything in as if you're processing each sound that you've heard in the womb for so long. The dryer door slams or disposal turns on and your expression says I know that sound. You may even sleep best when your siblings are rowdy because that's what you've known.
Since that day we came home, Evan's developed pink eye and has to refrain from touching or holding you for 3-5 days. Since that day, Madalyn wants someone to hold her whenever you're being held. Since that day, she's discovered a wasp nest under the window eave outside our bedroom window where she marvels over the wasp family that resides there; "Ohhhh, look! Waps! What color are they? Are they BROWN? Watch, watch!" The sentences she's formed over the Wasp Family has drawn much attention from us and, though last summer I cursed the Wasps, this summer I can't help but think God lured them there just for Madalyn's pleasure and the attention that pleasure draws from us. And although she wants to be held and is a bit jealous of you taking over her place as the baby of the family, she does love you. During a big thunderstorm the other day she coaxed you continually saying, "It's okay, Jack. It's okay." Since that day we brought you home she's inquired about you frequently and when she wants to hold you she holds out her hands, side by side, palms up, as though you were about to drop some M&Ms in her hand, as though you were that little.
But Jack, since that day, the thing I most know is that my life's never been so rich.
Mommy
