Fifteen years ago, I was in labor with my first child. I had no business having a kid, but there I was, 9 months and 2 weeks pregnant. Jake was 14 days late and even then, he was induced.
He was born after 36 hours of med-free labor, he was 7 pounds and 13 ounces and he was born at 2:13 in the afternoon. He was 21 inches long, had a head full of fluffy black fuzz and brown eyes-the minute he opened them, they were brown. The nurse told me only Hispanic babies had brown eyes at birth. I still don't know what to do with that tidbit, so, I'll just pass it along.
I named him Jacob Spencer and they let me take him home 48 hours later. I spent the first few months waiting for someone to realize I had NO clue what I was doing and come take him back.
I had postpartum depression, which I now know is pretty typical, but at the time, I was a vacuum of alone with an infant I did not know how to put down. If I was not holding him, he wailed, so I held him-he lived in the Snuggie strapped to my belly. We were both completely bewildered by life. Sometimes at night I would show him the squares on the quilts I had covered the walls of our tiny house with for extra insulation. I could not afford to feed us if the electric bill went over $40, so that winter, we spent a lot of time in bed or under a blanket in the rocker. I couldn't think of what else to do with him.
He had HUGE eyes, he would stare at me, mouth hanging open, panting a little-probably because he was roasting in my efforts to keep him warm. In December, I set up a tiny Christmas tree and put on a string of lights, which I would turn on for 15 minutes each evening to keep from using too much electricity. It was an odd time, even going back to work did not help relieve the depression and I would spend my breaks pumping milk and crying in the bathroom.
I recall his start as the most difficult stretch of my life.
But, he was always happy.
Here we are, fifteen years later on the eve of his birth. I can see him from where I am sitting, he's between his brother and sister on the couch, they are all eating cereal-his is dry. He does not drink milk, his choice, he has no food allergies. He does not like chocolate or macaroni with the cheese. He won't eat cheese at all unless it's shredded and melted.
He is kind, the sweetest child I have ever met and that's saying something because Ben and Chan are pretty fantastic. He looks up and catches my eye, I look at him, he looks back. He gives me a huge shiny grin, his braces flashing in the light, his bangs are hanging in his eyes, his shirt is too big, his pants are missing an entire knee. He is a most beautiful boy.
I can't imagine a day without him. I don't really remember what I did before he came along for the journey. I must have had a life, but whatever it was filled with, it wasn't enough.
While we try to teach our children all about life,
Our children teach us what life is all about.
~Angela Schwindt
