Your birth story... Part 2.

That was a very surreal night. I dragged my IV to the bathroom at least 5 times. I slept a little. Your dad slept a little. We silently stared at each other, the ceiling, all the while listening to your heart beating through the monitor. Thinking, this is the last night of our lives without you. Tomorrow is your birthday. Tomorrow changes everything.

They checked me in the morning but I wasn't having any contractions, and I was only slightly dilated. They checked me every hour or so after that. In the meantime, I had visitors. My sister, your Auntie Hannah, who brought your dad beef jerky so he wouldn't faint. Carson's sister, your Auntie Q, and her family... your Uncle Joel and your cousin Jaden. Your other cousin, Rinnie, was in Auntie Q's belly, due out the following month. They brought me that big blue bunny in the above picture (that I started eating when the contractions started). Carson's parents came, your Kiki and Pops. All of my girlfriends (your aunties) had gathered and were spending the day together with my Dad (your FarFar), waiting. Gigi was on a plane. I felt the love and excitement all the way down to my bones.

Around noon, there was still no action, so they gave me Pitocin to induce the labor. HELLO. HELLO LABOR. That drug is a quick SOB. I started contracting and they went from manageable to painful to HELL, fast. I don't really know how to describe it other than a cramp: a gut-wrenching, pain-shooting, evil-eyed cramp. I kept hearing our Birth Class Teacher in my head, don't get the epidural too soon but don't get it too late. WHAT DOES THAT MEAN, I asked my head. SOMEONE JUST TELL ME WHEN TO GET IT! And that's exactly what your dad did. He could sense my angst and simply said this, "Don't be a hero." That was all it took. Check please! Epidural time!

That was around 2:30pm. But your dad also reminded me... when you call for the epidural, it doesn't magically appear in your bloodstream. They have to call for the dude, he might not be ready, blah blah, blah blah. He came up around 3pm, and sloooooooooowly got me prepped for the magic drug. There was some chit chat, some instructions, but all I could hear was my brain telling me it wouldn't be kind to spit in his face. And then, LET'S ALL SIGH AND IMAGINE...

I felt nothing. I felt calm, happy. Your dad kept watching the contractions on the monitor with his jaw dropped. He kept saying, "You really don't feel that?!? How about this one?!" I was in my happy place, eating lots and lots of jello. Your dad went across the street to IHop for a burger. Gigi's plane landed and she made it to the hospital early evening. Everyone had gathered in the waiting room. One big happy family on the Ides of March.

It must have been 7pm-ish when they checked me again and said, "you're ready." A surreal thing to hear. Nine months of preparing, a lifetime of wondering how women do it, and there I was... about to find out. Everything moved fast after that. I asked my mom to stay in the room, to take pictures when you arrived. Carson put on Kings of Leon, and muted Shark Week on the TV. Dr. Kessler appeared and I watched him put on his scrubs, talking about the dinner he had left. And then I thought about nothing other than this powerful need to push that was overwhelming my body. A nurse grabbed one foot, my mom the other. Your dad took my hand. This was probably 8:20pm.

At 8:41pm, on March 15th, 2009, you were born...


You weighed 7 pounds, 9 ounces and were 20 inches long. We told everyone your name was Jackson James Daly, "James" after Carson's daddy in heaven.

When they handed you to me, I remember being hysterical. No tears, just smiles and shaky laughter and I think I said, "So this is what you look like." Your eyes were wide open, your cry was soft. Your father kissed me, and when I looked at him I saw you. Everyone came to meet you. First the grandparents, then the aunts and uncles and finally my best friends. You were loved from your first minute of life.

So there you have it, our birth story. I feel lucky to have loved every minute of it, even the pain. (Now I'm just lying to all of your faces.) Giving birth is like winning this awesome, fuzzy, pink, Oscar. So here's my acceptance speech:

I would like to thank God. And my family and friends. I would like to thank those juice cocktails the hospital hands out in the giant cups. Oksana the Nurse. Your Dada. And you. The End.

Your birth story... Part 1.

Hello. It's been a very long time since I've written you a letter. I could go over a billion things right now - updates, silly stories, poo poo and pee pee anecdotes - but I thought for my first plunge back into this I would start from the beginning. Many of my friends have had babies in the last 6 months, their stories so fresh in my mind. It has caused me to reflect on your birth story, and it suddenly dawned on me that some of the details are blurring together. So before I forget any more of that fateful day, I wanted to write it down. After all, when you're a grown man, I know you'll want to recall everything that happened to my vagina on March 15, 2009.


You were due March 31st. People had bets on when you'd arrive, and most of them were post-due date. But I was all, hell to the NO! You see, I was experiencing horrible back pains that resulted in long, sleepless nights. Don't worry, it wasn't your fault! I'm just being nice, it was totally your fault. ("Tiny Bingo" is what we called you when you were in my belly, a nickname and a story for another day.)

The morning of March 14th, your dad and I were at our final "Birth Class" - you know, the kind where they teach you to do breathing techniques on a giant exercise ball that are completely useless. I started contracting, but I had no idea. I must have had a pained expression on my face, because our teacher looked at me and said in front of everyone, "Are you having a contraction?" I was like, "Um no? Yes? Maybe? What!?!" But it passed, the class ended and we went along with our day - which consisted of putting the car seat in the car, taking an infant CPR class, and eating huge sandwiches. We were very productive.


Early evening, I felt like taking a walk. I went by myself, and wandered to the exact same spot I sat, staring at the ocean, on the day I found out I was pregnant. I became emotional. I started talking to you, out loud, which, to a passer-byer, must have looked insane. I told you I was ready to meet you. I talked about all the people who were also anxious to meet you, who loved you already. I cried happy tears. And then I went pee in a port-a-potty.

When I got home, I made mac & cheese for your dad and I. We finished off the box, and settled down on the couch for a movie. 3:10 to Yuma. I fell asleep half-way through it. I dreamt your dad and I were a part of the movie...


This is when the party got started. Around 9pm, I was jolted awake by water, everywhere. I thought I had fallen into a toilet or peed my pants, and then I became sane. I said to your dad, "SOMETHING JUST HAPPENED." He gave me a funny look and then I said, "MY WATER BROKE!" We both jumped up and started talking to ourselves at the same time. My side went like this, "Ok, I'm going to go change. Maybe go to the bathroom? I don't think I have to go the bathroom. Ok. I feel fine? Oh dear, look at the couch." Your dad, "I should call someone, I should do something, I need a drink." When we finally started talking to each other, we came to the conclusion that we should get our "Go Bag" and head to the hospital.

We pulled up to Saint John's in Santa Monica and checked in. Once I was in bed, they checked to confirm my water had actually broken. I kept thinking, please don't let it be pee, please don't let it be pee. Because that would have been embarrassing and that would have been a record breaking amount of urine. It wasn't.

They gave us the option of going home, spending the night in our beds, and coming back in the morning. A lot of people probably would have preferred that option, but not your father and I. We like doctors and machines and drugs and people who know what they're doing. So we got settled in. I called my mom (your Gigi) who was still in Minnesota. She started looking into early morning flights. Carson called his parents in Palm Desert, and they got in the car. While I was getting all hospital robed and IV'ed up, your dad went home to get music and BEER. This shouldn't surprise you. Like I said, the party had begun...

To Be Continued.