The past few weeks have been whirl wind. Our Chicago trip, my friend’s Ordination as Deacon, a promotion at work, follow up appointment back in Chicago, my parents in town and Jackson’s birthday. I wish I could have written a beautiful post about Jackson’s birthday, but did not have it in me. But here is a chronology of his photos and then today's reflections..
1 hour
1st Birthday Dinner - Ned Kelly's
2nd Birthday Breakfast - Melo Cream aka "The Donut Store"
3rd Birthday - Grandma & Grandpa B's (with Zachary)
4th Birthday - Los Agaves (Note: Same shirt as 3rd Birthday - still loves Spidy!)Jackson and I came home from the hospital four years ago on Thursday, but the Saturday of the 4th of July weekend, and the final weekend of Wimbledon seem more like the anniversary of our coming home to me because the activities tend to follow the day, and not so much the date.
This morning Jackson crawled in bed with me to watch the woman’s final at Wimbledon. The beautiful post by Lisa and the current state of my reproductive health got me remembering our last night 24 hours at the hospital clear as day.
It started off rough.
John had gone back to work that day after being told by his HR folks that he did not get his 2 paid week’s paternity leave because we were not married. I knew this was wrong and illegal, BUT since he was still in his first 6 months in this job, he did not want to fight it.
Despite no problem latching on, Jackson was struggling to nurse. Every nurse on the floor, through multiple shifts, I swore had been in to monitor because surely I was doing something wrong. They all concluded we were doing everything right, he just wasn’t getting enough to eat and became pissed off.
There is no better way to describe it. He would latch on, nurse for about a minute, and then open his mouth widely, shake his head violently side to side and scream at the top of his lungs with a bright red face – so uncharacteristic of the smiley boy I now know.
Friends had been streaming in all afternoon and then were driven away by his screams. One friend started calling him Jack-Jack, which made me not so happy. This proceeded all afternoon and into the evening.
Then the night nurse came in to tell me Jax needed to supplement, he had lost over 10% of his body weight, and if he did not gain some back by mid morning, he would not be coming home with me. I understood, fed him his bottle and cried - feeling so inadequate at not being able to nourish my child.
But the nurse was wonderful. She hung in my room for at least a couple of hours. And when I say she hung, she did, like a girl friend. It was at least 11 PM, and the unit was full – I know because they had tried to kick me out of my room the night prior. We talked, fed Jax. She held him for awhile. We dressed him for his first pics together. She calmed me down and helped me feel like a good mom, but also like me again. I tell people that I wish I had gotten her number, because she is the kind of woman I would have liked to go get a beer with on a nice summer evening.
Jackson became Jackson after that. He was just hungry. We settled in for the night, and in the morning hung out, enjoying “Breakfast at Wimbledon”. The match between a Williams sister and Maria Sharipova was a classic 3 setter. Jackson thrived, mellowed, and gained enough to go home. But daddy called after the second set – they split. Did I want him to come now? Take your time. Watch the next set from home. We are cool. Chilling out with Breakfast at Wimbledon, just my little guy and me.
This morning Jackson crawled in bed with me to watch the woman’s final at Wimbledon. The beautiful post by Lisa and the current state of my reproductive health got me remembering our last night 24 hours at the hospital clear as day.
It started off rough.
John had gone back to work that day after being told by his HR folks that he did not get his 2 paid week’s paternity leave because we were not married. I knew this was wrong and illegal, BUT since he was still in his first 6 months in this job, he did not want to fight it.
Despite no problem latching on, Jackson was struggling to nurse. Every nurse on the floor, through multiple shifts, I swore had been in to monitor because surely I was doing something wrong. They all concluded we were doing everything right, he just wasn’t getting enough to eat and became pissed off.
There is no better way to describe it. He would latch on, nurse for about a minute, and then open his mouth widely, shake his head violently side to side and scream at the top of his lungs with a bright red face – so uncharacteristic of the smiley boy I now know.
Friends had been streaming in all afternoon and then were driven away by his screams. One friend started calling him Jack-Jack, which made me not so happy. This proceeded all afternoon and into the evening.
Then the night nurse came in to tell me Jax needed to supplement, he had lost over 10% of his body weight, and if he did not gain some back by mid morning, he would not be coming home with me. I understood, fed him his bottle and cried - feeling so inadequate at not being able to nourish my child.
But the nurse was wonderful. She hung in my room for at least a couple of hours. And when I say she hung, she did, like a girl friend. It was at least 11 PM, and the unit was full – I know because they had tried to kick me out of my room the night prior. We talked, fed Jax. She held him for awhile. We dressed him for his first pics together. She calmed me down and helped me feel like a good mom, but also like me again. I tell people that I wish I had gotten her number, because she is the kind of woman I would have liked to go get a beer with on a nice summer evening.
Jackson became Jackson after that. He was just hungry. We settled in for the night, and in the morning hung out, enjoying “Breakfast at Wimbledon”. The match between a Williams sister and Maria Sharipova was a classic 3 setter. Jackson thrived, mellowed, and gained enough to go home. But daddy called after the second set – they split. Did I want him to come now? Take your time. Watch the next set from home. We are cool. Chilling out with Breakfast at Wimbledon, just my little guy and me.
Our first Breakfast at Wimbledon
This morning, Jackson crawled into my bed with his bowl of cereal and cup of juice. I was laying there in pain from my endometriosis and being unable to keep food down for the past few days. The perfect storm of the Chicago docs trying to pharmacologically shut down my troubled reproductive system. Chemical hormones fighting my body’s screwed up natural ones. But we were cool. My little man and me.
The Williams sisters played a good, high quality match. And after the second set, the phone rang. It was daddy. They did not split, and he was on his way.
Daddy, Jackson, and Mommy - Coming Home for the First Time
3 comments:
Aww, what great photos!
You are such a natural at this. Ryan just saw this and said, "Mom, Miss Suzanne has a website??? Do you know how to do this?" Sadly, I said I do not and thus would never be able to document his childhood as absolutely beautifully as you do!!!! You have a gift - thanks for sharing it with the rest of us. Happy Belated B-day Jax!
Your post was so beautifully written! I was lucky with Aliza, all things worked out in our favor with nursing....but I know that it is not always the case. Your little Jackson is so ridiculously adorable and, as you said, such a happy guy! Happy birthday to him!
I hope that you are feeling better these days....
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