Baby Jack: A Birth Story (The End).

We left off with me riding the epidural high-those magic pain-free moments after hours of pain. Magic, I tell you. 

My parents came by and my dad remarked that it was so nice to see me so calm and relaxed. I think what me meant was knowing you, I’m shocked that you’re not a terrified bundle of anxiety right now, and he was right.

I don’t know how to explain it, but the night before Jack was born will forever be one of my favorite nights. I think a lot of it had to do with the fact that it was nighttime, so everything was just more quiet and peaceful. The lights were softer and there wasn’t so much noise. 

It really felt like the night before Christmas, or a big vacation. Christopher and me just hanging out, dozing for twenty-minute stretches every now and then, watching house hunters (the only channel that would come through haha), eating way too many popsicles, and browsing the humor section of pinterest. 

Around 3:15AM I woke up to a popping sound. I threw a pillow at Chris to wake him up and told him I thought my water had broke. He told me it had (perks of being married to a doctor!). 
I fell asleep, and woke up to the nurse telling me she wanted to try a practice push to see how my body was reacting to the epidural. I did what she told me, she screamed at me to stop, and ran and got the doctor. Within minutes the room was full of lights and nurses and my favorite doctor. I figured that meant something was about to happen, so I texted my mom, “Wakey wakey, we’re having a baby!”
This is the part where you all get to hate me. 
I looked back later at what time I sent the text. I texted her at 5:35. 
Jack was born at 5:58. 
The first time I held my little bub.

I shouted, “He’s so tiny!” When the doctor was handing him to me, and the doctor laughed and said, “No he’s not!” But he was just the tiniest little babe I’d ever seen up close, and it was insane to me that his itsy-bitsy arms and legs could already move. 
When he was placed in my arms, I felt a rush of emotions, but they were different than the ones I expected the feel. It was less of an, “I suddenly love you” and more of an, “I’m so happy you’re finally here, I’ve always loved you, you’ve always been a part of my life and I’m just so glad we’re together now.” I felt relieved, like we’d been waiting for this moment for much longer than 40 weeks. I felt pride and love and just a downright connection rise up in me and overflow from my heart, and it was perfect. 

It’s such a strange experience. One second, this baby is an unseen, unheard face inside of you, and the very next second, it’s a moving, crying actual part of this world. It’s the strangest feeling.

Our first photo as a family of three. Chris is beaming, I am fading, and Jack is pretty mad about the whole being born thing. 

I’ll spare you details, but there’s no sugarcoating it: Birth sucks. An epidural wearing off sucks. Recovery sucks. But there are absolutely no words to describe the magic of waking up as a family of two one day and starting the next day as a family of three. There aren’t words to adequately explain the feeling of holding something that is half of you and half of the person you love most in this world. 

When it was time to come go home, it felt like we were doing something wrong. Like, surely they weren’t about to let us leave the hospital with an actual baby. Surely someone was going to stop us and say, “Yes, but can you really take care of him?”

But they did let us leave, and we went out into the real world to start our life as a perfect little family. And while I still feel pretty clueless, it’s been six months, and we’re still going strong.

This looks like he’s crying, but he’s really not. He still sleeps like this, sucking his little bottom lip in. 


Home the first day, after the first shower that felt so magical, letting Gatsby get used to his little brother. 

 And that is the story of how little Jack Isaiah Jacobs came into this world.

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