Parker James,
I told your dad on
the day you were born that it was the happiest day of my life. I know most
people proclaim this on the day they say “I do,” and although your dad and I
absolutely loved our wedding day, it paled in comparison to the miracle, the
strength, the beauty and the joy that your dad and I experienced on the morning
of Saturday, July 28, 2012. In the month leading up to your grand arrival your
dad bet you would be late, while I was convinced and overly optimistic that you
would be an early bird. And whaddya know? Your dad was right.
We spent the week
leading up to your birthday residing at Grandma Ann and Grandpa Jim’s house. I
had already washed, folded, and organized your itty-bitty clothing into color
coordinated bins. I worked hard to write, seal, address and send off Thank You
notes to all of our family and friends who blessed you with more onesies,
lovies and blankies than you would ever need [and more than I could ever
organize into one small dresser]. So the color coordinated bins overflowed with
cotton, just as the love for you poured out and overflowed from the hearts of
those in our community.
With the help of
your dad, I anxiously rolled my gigantic belly and equally gigantic grin out of
bed on Tuesday, July 24th. Not only was this a beautiful sunny
summer day, it was also the day our family had been counting down to for nine
and a half months - - your due date! That afternoon, I vividly recall walking waddling
around the Kirkland waterfront, hand-in-hand with your dad, my soul filled with
joy and anticipation. An older couple relaxing on a wooden bench smiled as we
walked by. “When are you due?” the man asked. “Today!” I proclaimed with a big fat
grin on my face. The sweet old couple glanced at one another, and in their
expression I could tell they were reminiscing upon beautiful memories from
their family’s past. They congratulated us with a twinkle in their eyes and
kindly reminded us to enjoy every minute because, you know, those babies sure
do grow up fast. That day I ate up the smiles and well wishes from strangers as
your dad and I strolled along the waterfront and enjoyed what we thought would
be our last beautiful summer day as a family of two.
As fun as it was on
our due date to tell strangers you were due “today! Hooray!” it was equally as
miserable to tell strangers and neighbors you were due “yesterday” and “two
days ago” and “three days ago” while we waddled around grandma Ann’s
neighborhood…But we kept on walking, I kept on brewing red raspberry leaf tea, and
we kept on trusting that you would make your grand entrance into our family
when the timing was just right.
I woke up early
Friday morning to a contraction. When it concluded I glanced at the clock, which
read 3:04am. Here we go, I thought to myself as I noted the time on my iPhone
App, and waited around for the next surge to strike. My contractions hit every
6-7 minutes during those early morning hours. Although they were fairly steady,
the pain was minimal, so your dad and I decided to jump in the car to go enjoy
one “last supper”, just the two of us, at my very favorite spot: Panera Bread.
It was a special occasion, and assuming I wouldn’t be chowing down again until
you joined the crew, I splurged on the .99, four thousand calorie chocolate
chip cookie. I figured I might need those extra calories a few hours down the
road…
But a few hours
down the road, my now-inconsistent contractions had slowed down to every 10-20
minutes, causing both your dad and me to be slightly confused. What in the
world was happening? We had gone to the birthing classes, read the birthing
books, faithfully been to our prenatal appointments, and had typed up our ideal
birthing plan….so why did we all of a sudden feel completely clueless,
inadequate, uneducated and uncertain about your impending arrival? We called
the doctors office and spoke with the nurse. An hour later we spoke with the
doctor. A few minutes after that, we called the most trusted doctor in town:
your great-Grandpa Bob. I explained that you had started to make your way into the
world, and then for some unexplainable reason, everything slowed down. The naive, first-time mama in me threw
out countless questions…“Is this normal? Do you think he is okay? Should we go
to the hospital to have my fluid levels measured? He’s already four days
overdue – you know that, right? Do you think his head is squished? Is he okay?
You’re sure he’s okay? How much longer…” As I was rattling off questions your
dad was behind the wheel, heading our Ford straight to the hospital. Yet during
our conversation, your Great-grandpa Bob assured the two of us that we had
absolutely nothing to worry about and you would make your grand debut when the
time was right. We listened to his advice, turned the car around, and drove
back home to walk, walk, walk the evening away…
That night, the
entire world huddled around their television sets to catch the Opening
Ceremonies of the 2012 Summer Olympic Games in London. Your dad joined Funcle
Dan and Grandma Ann on the couch, while I found myself movin’ and groovin’ on
our bright red birthing ball, contraction timer in hand, and ready for action.
After a couple hours of bouncing and watching countries I had never heard of
proudly march their colorful flags across the TV screen, Grandma Ann glanced at
the clock and encouraged us to go upstairs to get some shut eye. “It may be the
last full night of sleep you two get in a while - - go enjoy it.” The
empathetic tone in her voice reminded me that she had played this waiting game
before and knew just how very unnerving it felt. Your dad and I listened to
Grandma Ann’s wise words and headed upstairs for some much needed R&R.
I threw on my oversized
pajamas and washed the makeup off my face before cuddling into bed next to your
dad. As soon as I pulled the covers up to my ears, I braced down and began
timing an extra painful and strangely long contraction. One minute into the surge,
I felt the oddest sensation that I had ever experienced in my life, and was
convinced your itty bitty foot had popped right through my balloon of a uterus.
Strange? I thought so too. The contraction continued for a total of two
minutes, and when it finally concluded I rolled over to describe the foot-kicking
sensation to your dad. And that’s when I realized…the bed was wet! The bed was
wet…my water had broke which guaranteed one glorious thing: you would be out
and about in no more than 24 hours. The countdown to your birthday had
officially begun!
I rolled out of
bed to zip up our hospital bag and squeeze my oh-so swollen feet into a pair of
flip-flops. The next two contractions were two minutes apart, which rushed your
dad and I to say our quick goodbyes to family, then hit the road. Your dad
drove safely, yet made it to the hospital in record time. I’m sure our speed
had something to do with the lack of congestion on the road at 10:00pm, as well
as the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he pressed on the gas and
navigated through Sammamish, Redmond, and on into Bellevue. While pulling into the hospital parking
garage your dad and I were struck by the fact that next time we opened up the
doors of our trusty old silver Ford Focus, we’d be placing your new little life
into the car seat in our backseat, and we’d be driving off into the sunset as a
family of three! On the fifth floor of the garage we scored the closest parking
spot next to the elevator, and considered that a positive sign of good things
to come.
Your dad, being
the superhero that he is, had his strong arms piled high with our suitcase,
diaper bag, snacks, and pillow as we rode the elevator up to the Birthing
Center. After checking in at the
front desk, we were escorted to the triage room by a not.so.friendly nurse.
When she left us alone in the corner of the triage area I began to cry. I
couldn’t help but feel scared and overwhelmed as I sat on the hospital bed and
glanced out the window at the cars speeding by, off into the clear nights sky.
You see, I’ve never ever enjoyed sterile medical environments. In fact, in 8th
grade my teacher told me that I’d never be able to have a child if I continued
to be afraid of doctors & all things medical. I bet he would find it funny
that I married your daddy – a future physician. But I knew I had to be strong and that all the pokes, pains,
and discomforts of being in the hospital would all be worth it, because each
little step brought me closer to meeting you. Your dad held my hand, rubbed my
feet, and did his very best to comfort me. As I wiped away my tears and
swallowed my trembling voice I knew that you and I would work together as a
team to eventually defeat the pains of the contractions, and that in that
victory you would be born into our family.
It felt like we
were waiting for hours in the triage area, however I’m sure it was no more than
thirty minutes later when we were escorted to our spacious, private birthing
room. I settled into the bed and tried to get comfortable while your dad
unpacked a few items. A few moments later, we were greeted by Angela, the
world’s most amazing night shift nurse. Your dad and I felt very blessed and
grateful to labor with Angela on our team, as she helped us naturally manage the
pain, and was the queen at repositioning pillows. Additionally, whenever sweet
Angela glanced at the computer monitors to check your heart rate, she would proclaim,
“healthy baby – beautiful baby!” Those four words filled my heart with tremendous
peace and joy during what seemed like a never-ending labor…speaking of
never-ending, at 7:00am when Angela’s shift ended, she told us she was not
going home, because she wanted to continue to care for us through the final stage
of labor. She also wanted to meet this “healthy baby – beautiful baby.”
During our time in the delivery room the hours passed
quickly but the minutes passed slowly. Reflecting back, your dad says it was
all a blur, but in the moment he had his head in the game and was the superhero
I mentioned earlier. After about ten hours of laboring in the hospital, Dr.
Obeng joined our team in the delivery room and informed us that it was time to
push. I was entirely exhausted but extremely ecstatic by this news. I held my
legs and pushed for an hour as your dad, Angela, and Dr. Obeng monitored the
contractions, counted to ten, and cheered you and I on. At 9:39am, your dad
held onto your head and delivered you as you made your grand debut into the
world. After 6,840 hours of pregnancy, 29.5 hours of labor, and one hour of pushing
you had arrived! During your first moments on Earth your dad looked at me with
tears in his eyes, and as I caught my first glimpse of you in your dad’s hands
I knew that I was a lucky lady. I had my two favorite boys in the room, and
together the three of us had just experienced nothing short of a miracle. You
were placed on my chest for no more than five seconds, before the doctor
whisked you to the other side of the room to help you take your first breath. During
that time, I leaned over and asked your dad if you had ten fingers and ten
toes, and he assured me that you did and that you were absolutely beautiful – a
healthy and happy baby boy. Praise the Lord!
An hour later, you and I were wheeled to a recovery room, while
your dad walked to the waiting room to tell our anxious and very excited family
members that the three of us were ready for visitors! A few weeks earlier I had
made a colorful banner spelling out your name, which your dad proudly hung
above our hospital bed. You see, your dad and I put a lot of thought, prayer
and conversation into your name and because of that, we decided to keep it a
special surprise until you were born. That just about drove your curious family
members nuts, so when your grandparents and aunts and uncles entered the room
and saw the banner, they squealed with excitement and shared how much they
loved your name. We discussed the meaning of your name as you were passed
around the room. Smiles and cameras flashed all day long, as friends and family
and nurses poured in to meet you and shower us with love and well wishes. And
once we left the hospital the visitors only increased. In the first month of
your life more than sixty friends and family members drove through the forested
streets of Sahalee to hold you, hug you, and tell you how very loved you were.
Parkerman, I have always longed to be a mother, and on that clear, summer morning in late-July, you and your dad made my dreams come true. Cliché? Of course. But true? You betcha. Thank you, little guy, for joining our family and letting your daddy and I love on you and journey through life with you. And although this is the first of many stories your daddy and I will tell you and read to you over the years, we hope you never forget that God is the author of all of our stories, and for that, we are very grateful.
All my love and cuddles,
Mom
