Goodness in the world

   I had the wonderful opportunity to fly across the United States to visit my family this past month. It was wonderful, and difficult all at the same time. Both my aunt (my mom's sister) and my grandma (my mom's mother) whom I love dearly were recently diagnosed with terminal cancer, and this was my opportunity to see them, visit with them and hug them before things got worse.
   The biggest challenge for me was leaving. I've never left my kids before; at least I've never left them and gone somewhere overnight without Thayne by my side. I was terrified, nervous, anxious and a little excited about the break. I couldn't have made it happen without the love and support of friends who stepped in to help and watch my kids during the day while Thayne was at school, or without my amazing husband who pulled a double load the entire time. It was difficult being away and knowing I was needed, but in so many ways it was good. It opened my eyes to so many things and gave me a new appreciation for the people around me who do so much.
   In all my time away I just kept thinking the same thing over and over again: There are so many good people in this world. Really good people. Everywhere. People who will go out of their way to help a perfect stranger. People who will drop everything and help a friend, without looking for a reward. People who don't give a second thought to lifting someone with a smile, reaching out a helping hand, or giving a needed word of praise.
   I saw it time and time again, on every flight, and in every airport; I never once had to lift my bag into the overhead bins. I saw it in the people I sat beside, and the flight attendant who cleaned up baby puke with a smile and a laugh. I saw it in the random stranger who asked if she could help when I was dealing with a blowout diaper (don't ask. haha) They were everywhere! These amazing, helpful people, so willing to help me, even though they don't know me at all. I couldn't get my mind off of it every night as I lay down to sleep, how willing my friends were to sacrifice their time, their homes, and even a good piece of their sanity at times to care for my 4 kids. FOUR! That's a LOT of kids to dump on anyone! Yet they were so willing.  And it made me wonder, am I one of those people?
   Do I reach out to others any way I can? would I drop everything to help a friend? -Actually, that one I can say yes to. But what about the strangers that I meet? Do I live the busy moments of my life in a way that reflect how I care for others? Often times I just don't look up. I'm oblivious to what is going on around me. Whether I am focused on my shopping list, or simply in my own world with my own thoughts. Do I smile at others? Do I compliment the tired mom on her beautiful child/children? Do I take the time to chat with the elderly gentleman at the grocery store? Do I reach out?
   There is so much good in the world, but there is room for so much more. It's time to see the good. To BE the good.

Jace William Dawson

   Born  December 12th, at 2:33 a.m., weighing 8 lbs 1 oz and measuring 20 1/4 inches long. And he's perfect. Beautiful olive skin-tone, a tiny bit of dark hair, long fingers and toes, and beautiful eyes that he hardly opened for a moment before shutting them tight again, as if the world is too bright for him.

   My due date was originally December 5th, far enough away from finals and Christmas for me to dream that he might be born in November. But because I was measuring small they moved my due date to December 15th. I told everyone that he would come when he was ready, and the due date didn't mean anything - after all, I've had every one of my babies early, so why stop now.
   December 5th came and passed,,, so did the 6th, and the 7th, and the 8th. My parents flew here to Charleston all the way from Oregon so that they could meet this little guy, and just my luck, he decided to be shy.
   I did squats, till I could hardly walk, jumped rope in the garage until midnight, and had Thayne give me foot rubs until I wanted to cry, but other than the five million contractions that had me ready to go pack a hospital bag any second, it was all pointless.
   On December 11th I had a doctor appointment with my midwife, and in spite of the fact that I still had a few days until my due date, she scheduled me to be induced on the 16th because waiting longer (especially since they moved my due date) could be risky. Although the 16th seemed like a fine day to have a baby I felt terrible that my parents would have to go home without meeting their grandson, but lucky for me, my midwife was understanding and gave me a toxic recipe for a labor inducing cocktail. It contained Mango nectar, almond butter, and castor oil. I drank it with a straw and held my breath till the last swallow, then gagged at the smell. I finished the last sip at 7:00 and by 10:15 the contractions started getting a little closer together. I wanted to be hopeful, but I was scared because I'd already had so many contractions close together that they imitated labor perfectly, even for a pro like me.  I wasn't sure what to think.
   By 11:00 I was sure it was real labor so Thayne and I packed our hospital bag. We left for the hospital at 11:30 and arrived at midnight. The nurse who checked me in wasn't sure what to think of me. I was joking and teasing through my check in, but this being my 5th birth, I'm sure she thought I knew what I was doing.
   I was only dilated 4.5 cm, but there wasn't a delivery room available, so I got to hang out in the check in room for about an hour. Around 1:00 they moved me to a delivery room. Poor Thayne was exhausted. He had been taking tests and studying for finals all week and living on no sleep, so when I told him I'd be fine for a while and he could rest, he gladly accepted and fell asleep almost instantly.
   For the next hour I alternated between sitting cross-legged on the bed, and hanging my feet over either side straddling it (it was a narrow bed.), as I rocked back and forth listening to soothing music. I was determined to have the opposite birth experience I had with Jett: no epidural, no 13 hours of labor, no fainting in the delivery room, and no miserable pain shooting through me, making me want to die.
   Because of my focus, this birth was bliss! It was perfect! It was the type of birth that every mom dreams about having! It took me 5 tries, but I finally got it right. While I rocked side to side, I replayed those priceless moments of becoming a mom in my mind; the way I felt when I saw each of my babies for the first time. I replayed the way it felt to have the weight of my baby laid on my chest. I remembered their first cry, their blinking eyes, their squirmy, helpless bodies as they snuggled into my heartbeat and quieted  as they heard my voice and felt my warmth. Each of these memories filled me with life and strength, and eagerness to meet my baby boy.
   At 2:15 I woke Thayne. I needed a nurse to check me, and my "nurse call" button wasn't working. Within five minutes a doctor was in my room. She said the pressure I was feeling was because my water hadn't broke, but I was dilated to 7.5 and 100% effaced. I told her to break it. Little did I know what I was in for.
   The second she broke my water Jace's head slammed down onto my pelvic bone. The pain was paralyzing, and for a moment I lost all focus. For a moment I didn't think I could endure one more contraction, but then it hit me, and I somehow struggled through it.
   The doctor was leaving the room when a second contraction hit me. "I'm ready to push!" I told her.
   She gave me a funny look and said something along the lines of, "ok, I'll check you again." but I was ready.
   "I'm pushing NOW!"
   There wasn't even time to drop the bottom of the bed, or prep the room more than it already was. With Thayne on one side, and my nurse on the other I pushed through that contraction, and gave birth with the next.
   And then he was there. Squirming and screaming, and purply-pink. Covered with white vernix, mad at the world, and mine. He was mine. So perfectly new and beautiful in every way. From his wiggly little toes, to his bruised purple nose from dropping onto my pelvic bone when my water broke (it hurt both of us).
   As much as I wanted to hold him and caress him, I couldn't. I can't remember ever feeling so exhausted in my life. I couldn't even raise my head for more than a few seconds, or lift my arms to wrap around him. But I held him on my chest, and I cried. Out of gratitude, and awe, I cried.
 
   I stayed in the delivery room for a few hours because there weren't any post-partum rooms available. When they finally did wheel me to a room it was to an anti-partum room in a dark and lonely part of the hospital. At first I didn't care. I wanted nothing more than hours of uninterrupted sleep, but when my breakfast arrived 2 hours late, with no milk for my cereal (which never - ever came) I began to get annoyed.
   I begged for water, but the best anyone could do was bring me a pitcher of ice. I asked for a mug to even fill with tap water, but they said they didn't have any, so they gave me a tiny Styrofoam cup. So I sat and watched the ice melt slowly and drank every drop as it did. My lunch was 2 hours late again, and cold. My nurse was unavailable at all times. My call button didn't work. My mattress was miserably flat. My baby disappeared for 2 hours while he was supposed to be getting circumcised, and no one knew where he was... basically it was the worst hospital experience ever. So, by 3:00 p.m. I was ready to go. I wanted to go. I wanted to be home with my daughter to celebrate her 6th birthday. I wanted to sleep in my own bed and not stress about what was going to happen next.
   After doing everything I could to get ready to leave by 5:00 I realized it wasn't going to happen. No one was doing anything to get me checked out, even though I had permission to leave as soon as I was discharged. So I got dressed. I ate another hospital meal. I packed up my stuff, and I had Thayne go get the car. And FINALLY at 7:00 the doctor signed my chart and the nurse wheeled me to the car. I've never been more excited to be going home.
   Nana and Papa were able to hold Jace for a few moments that night, and the next morning Thayne drove them to the airport.
  After that it was back to finals for Thayne, and back to life for me, dropping kids off at school each morning and picking them up each afternoon. But in the midst of the chaos and craziness of our days I still found time to treasure this precious miracle. To breathe in his new baby smell. To stroke his soft skin as I sang him a lullaby, and thank God that he is mine.