May 6th

May 6th was supposed to be Jack’s birthday.  It was predestined.  His brother shares a matching date in June and his big sis in July.  That little buggar missed it by 8 minutes.  And he has let me know every day since then that he is own little person and will do things according to his choosing.   

I could give you a birth story rundown.  That was what I had planned for this entry.  Instead, I’ll just give you the nitty gritty.  Doc didn’t believe me when I complained of pressure.  Water broke an hour later in a Wendy’s bathroom.  “They” (meaning ambivalent, impersonal, western med gurus) thought my natural birth choice was wacko and tried to convince me that a caesarean was the way to go.   Alan caught Jack. Doc missed birth.  Yeahhhhh.... 

This kid is great.  He is insane.  He is colorful.  He wakes me up early every freaking morning.  He makes me mad.  He makes me happy. 

He loves to rub my face while we are snuggling together.  He likes for me to hold him like a baby.  He  likes for me to sing the same songs every night.  And when he cries, “Mom I neeeeed you,” it makes my heart melt.  

 

Jack wasn’t in our original plan.  We had two children planned.  We had our girl and our boy.  But somewhere in there the desire to add one more member to our family was so overwhelming to me that I couldn’t shake it.  He was conceived on the first go. (I know. TMI) And despite the rough pregnancy, he was certainly meant to be.