Adoption Journey - Pt. 3

The older I get the more I forget; and I’m only 36. It’s sad, isn’t it? There’s only so much storage space in my memory bank.  It seems as new data and new memories come in; old memories get shoved out.  But the memory of our son’s birth is unforgettable.

Weighing in at a healthy 9 lbs., 2 oz., (a mere 12 oz. shy of his older sister) Elijah Paul, burst into this world like the morning sun on what would become a terribly gloomy day. 

Labor and delivery was much less intense compared to our first experience; however, Jaclyn did miss her window of opportunity for an epidural by minutes.  I’m fairly certain that the nursing staff wasn’t completely honest with us regarding the whereabouts of the anesthesiologist.

"He's with another patient right now; he'll be here shortly." 

Hmmm, hmmm.

Did I mention Jaclyn doesn’t tolerate pain?

Well she doesn’t.  I'm amazed that her small frame could carry a 9-pound bowling ball inside – not once mind you, but this was our second child.

No epidural for her this time.  Time had passed.  It was too late. 

And she did great! Compared to our first child’s birth experience, this was a breeze. (Don’t tell her I said that! I’ll bet she’d say differently). 

The real fun though began after delivery. 

A massive thunderstorm was moving through our area.  A tornado warning was in effect as powerful wind gusts combined with the lightning strikes forcing the hospital to rely on the backup generators.  Protocol dictated that the staff evacuates all of the L & D patients and newborns out of their rooms and into the safety of the lobby area away from the exterior windows. 

Nothing says unforgettable like being crammed into a tight lobby space with wheelchair-bound women who had just given birth holding newborns trying their very best not to be annoyed by the inconvenience. (I’ll leave the details of this situation to your imagination.)

Time moved s-l-o-w-l-y, and after 30 minutes of wondering when the waiting would be over, we were sent back to our recovery room with our newborn son. 

Almost four years would pass before we would be pregnant with our third mini, Abigail Mae.  Her story is the best one to tell.  She’s our little miracle.