Happy Birthday Jack!

Today my littlest person turned one. Of course I spent all day thinking about what I was doing a year ago....

The day started like every other day for the last two weeks... I was still pregnant. This despite Jack being my third child in three years and the fact that he was due on June 19th. The adorable "Gemini Baby" onsie still mocking me from it's spot on the floor in the back of the closet where I had thrown it in disgust on June 22.

I got up and went to the bathroom, and when I was finished, I got up and checked the bowl, just to make sure the baby hadn't come out while I was peeing. (Why does that happen to those crazy "I didn't know I was pregnant" people? Those women are either certifiable or flat out lying. ) So there was no baby doing the backstroke in the bowl, and I wandered down the stairs cranky and mad at the girls for daring to be awake and happy. Just when I was considering how much longer I could sleep on the couch while the girls watched Curious George, it happened... a contraction. Nah, couldn't have been. I'm a circus freak who doesn't go into labor. Look kids, it's the amazing pregnant woman! She's been pregnant for 400 years. Wait... there's another! Woo hoo... bring the pain.

So, now what am I going to do? I figured this was going to be a long day and it would take my parents at least two hours to get to my house, so I rounded everyone up and went to Andrea's house for playgroup. It was freaking hot, and she had the sprinkler out. I informed the moms that I was probably in early labor, and that I would not be managing my own children today. Of course, the girls had other plans and I was refereeing and keeping Maggie's teeth off Ellie's back (we called her Marv Albert most of last summer). As playgroup wore on, the contractions kept coming and at some point I decided I should go home before I couldn't drive. Those of you that are locals should be amazed to know I navigated through White Clay Creek while having contractions.

By the time we got home though, woo nelly. Now they hurt. And no one was here yet. I desperately tried to talk the girls into a nap, but they weren't biting. I called my parents and thankfully they were close. Jeff was also on his way and his parents weren't far behind. My parents walked through the door at about 12:30 and I checked out of parenting. I have no idea what the girls did for the next four hours while I labored at home.

About 5PM, we finally went to the Birth Center. By that point, the contractions were about 5 minutes apart and I was not really able to talk much during them. When I had Maggie, I went to the Birth Center for a false alarm labor and before I had even finished walking through the door, the midwife told me I was smiling too much to be in active labor. We all trucked to the Birth Center, well, the granddads stayed at home with the ladies, and settled in for the big show.

This is the point in the story where I'm obligated to tell you why I choose to have babies without drugs... Having a baby without drugs is much like hitting yourself in the head with a hammer.... it feels really good when you stop doing it. I didn't choose the Birth Center cause I'm anti-drug, I often say that the anethesiologists of the world are good people who should be very proud of their work, but the people at the Birth Center are so incredible, I can't imagine going to a hospital. Dorinda, Peggy, Katie, and everyone else there is as caring and as warm as you could possibly imagine. The feeling of belinging to their family is something you cannot get from a hospital where 2000 babies are born a year. People should make whatever choice works for their family and this was the one that worked for us.

It seemed like we were there at TBC for a very long time. There was time to sit in the living room and hang out on the birthing ball, time to take a bath, and finally it was time to make the magic happen. Johna was there to videotape and I kept telling her that there would be more shouting by the end and I don't think she believed me until it was go time. By the time I was in the birthing room, which is really a bedroom, I was in the stage of labor in which every woman says "I can't do this, I have to stop". I was feeling the urge to push and was devastated when the midwife, Katie, told me I was only 8-9 cm and I shouldn't push. I think I could have pushed a SEPTA train up Everest at that point, so it was pretty big task to wait. I thought it would last for hours, I thought I couldn't do it, I wept and cried into my pillow... and then, something changed and it was time to push. 8 minutes later, Jack was born. He was born in his amniotic sac, meaning my water never broke. Dorinda spent the last few minutes of my labor expecting to get showered, cause apparently the sac was like a big water balloon coming out of my hooha. I'm working on balloon animals for my next labor. In the end, she had to cut it with scissors and yank it off Jack's head.

Being born in the "caul" as the old wives call it, is a sign of second sight. I attribute Jack's laid back nature to the fact that he's psychic and he knows that I am going to get his food and that he is going to get whacked on the head by Mags, but it's not going to leave a scar.

He was a gorgeous baby, a perfect 10 on his APGAR. Pink and plump and 9 pounds 8 ounces. Born at 9:04 PM, and perfect in every way.

A year later, he's made our family whole. His sweet smile and great giggles keep us all happy. He's starting to walk and even more exciting, he's starting to sign, so soon I hope to be posting about what Jack has to say!

Happy birthday to Jeff's mini-me, my main squeeze, Ellie's little Meatball, and the love of Maggie's life. John Moran Lacey


(Oh and when I called one of the moms who was at the playgroup the next day to tell her that I'd really had the baby that day, her response... "I figured you would, you were really bitchy yesterday." Love you Trish!)