My Longest Day

I’m home tonight.  It feels so good to sit on my couch, sip some dark rum, knowing that Ainsley is sleeping soundly in my bed.

Yet it doesn’t feel good at all, because only half of my family is home with me.

It feels so good because it’s so quiet here, and comfortable, and without the paranoia of germs, and with locked doors, and with familiarity.  It’s home.  It’s what I want.

And I want my wife and new son to be here too.

But they aren’t.

Not that I felt like a boy or even a teenager a couple days ago, but I feel as if I’ve experienced so much in the last couple days that I’ve grown up.  Yet in the moments when I can’t stop the tears I do still feel like a child, like my newborn son, who just wants to be held by someone he loves to tell him it’s all going to be ok.  Instead of my mom, it’s my wife, and I’d choose her again in a heartbeat.

I’ve never known a stronger woman than my wife.  I saw so much of who she is the past couple days, literally and figuratively!  I saw some of the weakest moments she’s ever had.  I saw one of the proudest moments she’s ever had.  I saw some of the most heart-wrenching moments, the content moments, the stressed moments, and the calm moments of relief.  I’d choose her again in a heartbeat; yes, I would.  I’m so proud of her.

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In case you can’t tell, I’m a sap.  Kinda always have been, but it’s only getting worse as I grow up.  I cried when my wife walked down the aisle.  I cried when I called my dad to tell him he had a granddaughter.  I cried when I saw my son’s head.  I cried on the way home tonight when a song came on the radio.  So let me be the first to tell you that I’m a sap.

But I love my wife and my daughter and my son.  When I saw Jacoby’s head, I cried for a couple reasons.  The first one was because I knew my wife’s dream of a VBAC had just come true, and just ten minutes before she was ready to quit pushing and have him cut out.  Yet she didn’t quit, and she reached her dream.  I was extremely proud of her.  That was the first reason I cried.

The first picture of my son, Jacoby Joshua.

The second was because I saw his ‘southern equipment’ and knew I had a son.  I would have cried if we had another girl too, but there was my boy!  I was wanting a son at some point, but it wasn’t a desperate feeling yet.  So it was almost relief that we didn’t have to wait until our next child for the possibility of passing on my family name.  So that was the second reason.

And then all the bawling and hard tears started.

We had our son.  He looked great.  He was alive and peeing on everything and looking at us and even nursing already.  We were loving it.

Then they told us he was breathing too fast and had no idea why.  So they took him.  When I saw him next he had an oxygen tube in his nose, heart monitors on his chest, an IV in his hand, inside a plastic case.  My strong little man looked so weak and vulnerable.  How could that be!

Oxygen tube taped to his face.
You can see a heart monitor on his chest.

Talk about feeling weak and vulnerable myself.

The next time I saw him I lost it again because he had foam ‘glasses’ on his eyes to protect them from a lamp that was placed over him to help fight off something else.  I was strong until I got back to the room to tell Rachel what I saw.  She just held me and cried with me and asked if I wanted to step away from our family as I talked to her about it.  Such a great woman!

That was the longest day of my life.

Today was better.  The doctor gave us an update, and Jacoby was improving.  In my mind, he’s in the clear.  He still has to stay at the hospital for another 5 days just to make sure everything clears up, but I’m already relieved.  Sure, I wish my son was home with me right now since my wife has been officially discharged, but I feel like he’s going to be just fine.  It’s still not easy seeing him with an IV in his head (they moved it because his hands were flopping around too much), but it’s ok.

Proud Mama with her baby boy!

Burping after a feeding.
IV taped to his head.

If you want the actual medical details of what’s happened and going on, ask Rachel.  She remembers that kind of stuff.  I only catch about half of it.  I think it’s a good thing I decided not to pursue becoming a doctor!

Thanks for praying.  Thanks for your support.  Thanks for everything you’re going to do to support us.  We love you and appreciate all our family and friends.  And we thank our God for providing for us and being near us every single day; we’re especially grateful for it these last couple days.

-mister