At the time I was pregnant with Jack it never really occurred to me that I wasn't taking pictures of my pregnant belly or even my pregnant self. In fact, the ones I posted for the other two kids are pretty much the only pregnant pictures (outside of the delivery room) I have of myself. It wasn't until after I had Jack and discovered the internet that I realized women actually did this (chronicle the growth of their bellies in photo format). In that respect I failed all of my children. But none more than Jack. I could only find one picture from that time; one corner is overexposed and tinged orange and it's clear that it was a "surprise" photo op as evidenced by the heinous look on my face. I sure hope I didn't look like that every day though chances are pretty good that I did.
It wasn't Jack's fault. I was simply cursed with a difficult pregnancy; one in which I actually lost his twin at 11 weeks and remained on bed rest until my 7th month. I'd re injured my lower back and with two compressed disks and one bulging, I spent most of my time laying flat on my back in the middle of the living room floor with my hand pressed to my belly chanting "please be okay" over and over again. I even had a near miss with a d&c (which for the benefit of you kids means that they thought I had miscarried and just needed to be "cleaned out"). Ew. I know. But true. The ultrasounds didn't in fact pick up on Jack's secret implantation spot until I was well into my 13th week. He was up high and their focus had been down low where it was clear a second baby had not made it. So when my pregnancy hormone test numbers fell initially only to start climbing again, it wasn't because I'd miscarried completely it was because I'd gone from a multiple pregnancy to a singleton.
Clearly Jack was somewhat sneaky and willful from the start...thankfully! In fact, he's ensured that my life will never be dull. There isn't a day that goes by when I don't laugh over something he's done or said and I am forever blessed to have him as a son.
Once I was removed from bed rest (floor rest?) and able to start enjoying the remainder of my pregnancy, it truthfully went as effortlessly as my first time. I was only slightly larger than when I was pregnant with Chrissy and still that meant I was about half the size I was while pregnant with Trevor! Jack's official due date was constantly changing so I still don't know if he was on time, early or past due. What I do remember is that I was scheduled to be induced November 23rd and I didn't make it that far.
I've always had acute maternal instincts. I've known the sex of each child by the end of the first trimester, had vivid dreams of each child's physical characteristics as well as what their names would be and been able to communicate with them via my thoughts. My instincts have thus far carried over since then and given me warnings when one was in danger and many more for when they've been sick or upset. Poor Tony has had to listen to many a foresight unsure exactly how to take it or what to say. In fact, when I awoke one morning while 2 months pregnant with Trevor and announced "We're having a boy, his name is Trevor and he'll have blonde hair", all I got was a nod and a simple "oooookay". In truth he had brown hair when he was born but has requested it be dyed blonde for the last 5 years. So, I still see the blonde boy of my pregnancy dream on a daily basis.
My difficult pregnancy with Jack distracted and altered my normal intuition, putting the bulk of my focus on keeping us both healthy until I delivered. So Tony and I set about finding baby names in the traditional way; we hashed them out. We both wanted to honor family members we'd been or were really close to. We chose Jack after Tony's grandpa on his mother's side who died in 1993 after suffering an aneurysm on Thanksgiving Day. He was hospitalized and never went home. We chose Charles after my dad who while alive at that time, would die just three years later. Both men meant a great deal to us both so the decision wasn't a hard one to come up with. The fact that Jack came on his own the day before I was to be induced only proved we'd chosen the right name. Our Jack was born on his namesake's birthday. You simply can't get more of a blessing than that.
That day, before labor actually began, I'd had my last appointment and even though I was dilated to a 4 (a 10 means it's time to push) and considered in "active labor" I was experiencing no regular pain; just a constant dull ache. Tony came home early from work just in case since I'd only labored with Trevor for 4 hours. We knew Jack was a much smaller baby and with labor going quickly I wasn't going to have any trouble with the pushing this time.
It's funny that I remember this now, but with Chrissy and Jack (the only two I began laboring with naturally and wasn't induced) my contractions started around 6:30pm. With Jack though, having ached all day, I just thought I was getting annoyed with the pain and didn't think it had actually gotten worse. So I decided to take a bath to see if I could get a little relief because at that point I was simply trying to get a good night's rest before being induced bright and early the next morning. I wasn't particularly interested in having him that night to be quite honest because I was looking forward to watching Metallica's S&M (symphony & metal) concert as it aired live from Madison Square Garden. I grew up loving Metallica's deafening style so when I heard that Michael Kamen had not only agreed to collaborate but initiated the idea of blending the aggression of heavy metal with the serenity of the orchestra he lead, I was more than a little fascinated. Unfortunately (I really wanted to see that concert!) a "quiet" concert at home was not in our cards...
The bath relaxed me and it was in this relaxed state that my body decided to get down to business. Within an hour I was in tears and very quiet, which is how I deal with intense pain. That's Tony's cue to begin to take things seriously: A quiet Patti is a serious Patti. So off to the hospital we went. We did stop briefly at Homeland to get one of those disposable cameras though because we'd forgotten our real camera at home and in my weepy state any attempt at back-tracking was met with even more of the tearful weepiness (that poor poor man). All things considered, we arrived at the admitting desk a little after 7:00pm and after taking one look at Her Majesty of All The Tearful Crying, I was given a room, a nifty "air-conditioned" gown and some drugs. Ooooo the drugs!
Since the concert had just begun at that point we practically beat the nurse down in our effort to tune in. Watching and listening proved to be an excellent focal point for me as I worked through my contractions. Since then I've decided to request an epidural before every concert I attend. In fact, I'll order a 6-pack and share. It was that good. Once my water broke we were assured I wouldn't be sent home for the night and finally relaxed into the idea that my room was going to be our home for the next three days. Over the ensuing handful of hours I could be heard, lovingly yet firmly, asking Tony to please remove himself from the area between me and James Hatfield. And bless his heart he did.
Again my labor was brief and at 10:56pm we welcomed Jack into our lives weighing in at a svelte 7lbs 5oz.
Every moment since then has been expertly orchestrated to keep me on my toes and ensure I'm not falling asleep at the wheel. I have no doubts that one day he will make a very happy, fulfilled living as a Demolition's Expert. The many stories behind that epiphany I'll save for later.
Nifty scab on his forehead brought to you by his daredevil nature & his bike.
No comments:
Post a Comment