Jeran Josiah

I'm painfully delinquent, once again, in posting. Jeran's birthday is 3 days past (he's my St. Patty's Day baby), but I'm still going to take the opportunity to commemorate my boy's special day. We started out the day with mommy on a little bit of a guilt trip since I accepted a subbing job. It was pre-arranged, and I figured he would be in Little Lambs for half the day anyway, so I was technically only missing spending HALF of his birthday with him. My friend, Kris, took the boys and arranged a fabulous birthday party for him in the afternoon, so in my opinion he probably had a better day than if he had been stuck at home with me anyway. :-) In the evening James and I took him to the train restaurant where we celebrated his 3rd birthday, and it was such a great time as a family. We had a lot of fun together. Even Ben! Of course, do I have photographic evidence of this spectacular time? Of course not. Just take my word for it and use your imagination. We opened a few presents at home (among them, a Leapster from mommy and daddy and a Thomas sweatshirt and book from Great-grampa and gramma Gunnink), and he got some birthday wishes over the phone from Papa and Nana and Great-grampa and gramma Gunnink. All in all, a great way to turn 4. So great, in fact, that the next day he fell asleep on the couch at 5:00. Catching up from all the excitement I guess. Some more small birthday celebrations await us in Michigan next weekend too.
Because this blog did not exist when Jeran was born, I thought it would be fun (for posterity and all) to record his birth story.
March 16, 2005.... 3 days past my due date and one day past a morning spent in false labor. I was BUMMED and anxious to get this show on the road. Starting around 4 in the afternoon on this Wednesday, however, noticeable contractions began, and because James and I were such good students of our Lamaze class, we started timing. Everything was pretty sporadic and not very intense, so we ate dinner and started watching the movie "Ray" (funny the things you remember, isn't it?). Around 10 pm contractions were about 7 minutes apart or so, so we called the hospital and they told us to come on in (even though at this point we were NOT good students and hadn't waited until the prerequisite 5 minutes apart for an hour contraction rule to take effect). My greatest fear at this point was being sent home. I was SO ready to just have this baby and didn't want to deal with the humiliation and disappointment of being told to go home and wait or that I was wrong and wasn't in labor at all. James enjoyed the 15 minute drive to the hospital because he felt that my being in labor (albeit, not very intense labor at this point) warranted him driving well above the speed limit. He was tempted to even take a red light or two. When we arrived, they had me change and get hooked up to the fetal monitor, and the waiting game began. Would we stay or would we go? In the end they decided to keep me because Jeran's heart rate kept dipping, and they wanted to keep an eye on that. Most of the nighttime hours that followed were uneventful. At some point I grew uncomfortable enough for an epidural and that marvelous messenger of God, the anesthesiologist, obliged. I had gone into my first labor with the intention of "seeing how things went" as far as going with the drugs or not, but after awhile I realized that if I didn't get some sleep, it would be a problem later. It was during these few hours of precious, early-morning sleep that things went haywire. Around 5:00 James and I were awakened by several nurses entering the room and telling me to shift to one side, then the other. This wasn't unusual since they'd been asking me to do this throughout the night to move the baby and get the heart rate back up. This time, however, they also asked me to get up on my hands and knees on the bed. Nothing was working, and things spiraled from there. More people were suddenly called into the room including the anesthesiologist. Our wonderful, angelic nurse Bridget informed us that the baby's heart rate was dangerously low nd for too long a time and my shifting positions was not helping. They were worried enough that it looked like C-section was the only way to go. Before I could blink the anesthesiologist was doping me up with more intense drugs and I was being wheeled from the room as a bleary-eyed James had consent forms thrust in his face. One vivid memory I have is riding down the hall, staring at those nondescript ceiling tiles as they flew by me, thinking, "Lord, this is NOT the way I wanted this to go, but whatever is going to deliver this baby safely....", and I really had tremendous peace about the whole thing. It was eerily quiet in the operating room as they prepped things, and then I noticed I couldn't feel anything pretty much from my neck down. I remember asking someone if this was normal and was told I was fine, and they'd keep an eye on me. Another vivid memory at this point is James walking in covered head to toe with that fashionable hospital garb. The only visible part of him were his eyes, and they were panicked. The doctor came in right after James and the next thing I knew he was telling us that things were looking up with baby, and he wasn't convinced C-section was the way to go after all. As I found out later from James, after I left the room, he overheard the nurses arguing in the hall about who was going to take the rap for making this C-section call because the doctor hadn't been the one to do it. Turns out our nurse Bridget had, and you know what? Not for a single second did we feel angry with her for that. She had the safety of our baby at heart and acted on it. SO - Jeran's heart beat went up again and no C-section was necessary. They wheeled my numb behind (along with the rest of me) back to our room. James and I then called our parents (who we had not contacted up until this point) to let them know what had happened and to ask for prayers. About 10 minutes after we hung up with my mom, she called back saying that there was no way she could just sit there at work and would we mind if she drove out? She'd just wait in the waiting room. Well, I never went into labor expecting to be the type of person who wants my mom in the delivery room with me, but when she got there, I was ALL about it. It was such a comfort to have her there after the fearful circumstances we had already been through, and I know that James was glad to not be the only one to have to coach me through what came next.
Around noon I was ready to push. The epidural/larger dose of C-section drugs I had been given were holding steady in some areas (like my legs, which were useless) but not others (like my back). It did turn out that Jeran was facing up instead of down, so that lovely bony part of his head caused some excruciating pain and gave me "back labor". To make a long story short, two and a half very intense, painful, and scary hours later (with the assistance of a doctor, nurse, "baby vacuum", and forceps) Jeran finally arrived in the world - all 5lbs. 12 oz. of him. I couldn't believe someone SO small could be so difficult to birth. He had had the cord wrapped around his foot and his neck which didn't help. There were definitely tears of relief mixed with our tears of joy (and, probably, sheer terror) that we were parents at last.
It's incredible to think that 4 years have passed and to look at the person Jeran is now. We praise God for not only how he worked throughout the difficult labor and delivery of our son but how he has worked during the past 4 years of his young life and how he has worked in our lives as parents. It has changed us, no doubt, and will continue to do so, I hope, for the better. I am both excited and terrified to continue walking this road of life with my son, watching what God does in and through him. Above all, with all of our rough moments and joyful ones, I am so grateful God saw fit to make me Jeran's mom. I CANNOT imagine a world that he is not a part of.
Anyway, Happy 4th Birthday, baby boy!