Birthday thoughts

It was ten years ago, at eight minutes after midnight, that my own 'little buddha' was born. His father was thrilled with the timing  as it meant that he didn't have to go into work and me? Well, I was just plain thrilled. It had been a rough ride -- I went into labor with a bang. I had just swallowed a fruit smoothie -- my stomach was feeling oogie -- when suddenly I felt violently ill. I rushed off to the bathroom and Tom rushed to start packing. I was in the bathroom, contemplating the ironies of life, when Tom called through the door: "I've got a suitcase packed. Let's go." Being the  conscientious sort, I called back, "Dr. Faulkner says to time the contractions and when they are three minutes a part, to go in." I could hear the poor man pulling his hair. I started timing. Five minutes, four minutes, okay, three minutes -- but no rush. I asked Tom to call our Doula. Teeth grinding, he did so. She talked to me for a moment and said 'Honey, you are in labour. Shall I meet you at home or at the hospital?' Hospital and now, finally, at 9 pm, half an hour after I first went into the bathroom, Tom raced me (carefully) to the hospital, dropped me off at the ER entrance (the front of the hospital was locked) and went off to park the car. Despite having been through an orientation at the hospital, when the time came, all I could think about were the horrendous cramps in my stomach and back. I wobbled up to the desk and, tears in my voice, I wailed 'I am in labor and I don't know what to do!' As if on cue, the elevator door opened up and a tall, slender man walked out pushing a wheelchair. One of the people at the desk called 'Hey, Mike! This lady is in labor. Can you take her to fifth floor triage?' "Of course!' Mike said and helped me, gently, into the wheelchair. All the way up in the elevator I said 'Thank you' -- they were the only words that came to mind. Mike pushed the wheelchair into Triage and left me in the capable hands of our Doula and the labor nurse. The nurse examined me and called the Doctor with her findings. After a brief, and somewhat heated discussion on the nurse's part ("SHE IS IN LABOR! I know when a woman IS IN LABOR!"), they took me into a labor room to await the doctor and my husband. It was, I am told, a fast labor -- to be precise, it was about three hours and 38 minutes long. That may be why it hurt so much. Jason was born with a roar (with Louis Armstrong, in the background, singing 'What a wonderful world'), yelling his unhappiness to the world. The labor nurses laughed and laughed. The one cleaning him off said 'Oh, my! Look at how RED he is. This is one mad baby.' She seemed thoroughly delighted with him -- and, indeed, offered to take him if we didn't want him. Laugh. Then she handed him to me and he quieted to a mutter, complaining to me softly before falling asleep.  It was some sort of ride.

When he woke a short time later, and after he had nursed, his father took him, oh so carefully, and danced an Irish jig around the room to which we had been moved. Maybe that is why Jason, to this day, loves Irish dance music and dancing. Whatever the case, he was our miracle -- a tiny Yodaesque baby whose every breath delighted us.

And now he is ten. I can hardly believe it. He woke this morning with a grin on his face. His little brother (6) woke with a very sick tummy. Bless the boy. The plan had been to take Jason out to breakfast whereever he chose but when he realized how ill his little brother was feeling, he said calmly, "If Xander doesn't feel good, we won't go. We can do it some other time, when he is feeling better." Not wanting his birthday day to be a complete write off, I suggested that maybe he and his dad could do something. Jason's eyes lit up. "I would like to go fishing, please."  So the two of them went off to go fishing and then to have a birthday breakfast. Tom called me a short time ago to say that they had 'had fun fishing' but that Jason was getting cold and they were going to go for breakfast. 'But before we go,' Tom told me, 'Jason wanted me to call and to tell you to tell Xander that we had found him an air soft pellet.' (Xander, for whatever reason, collects them). Bless the boy. His heart is so big and he loves his little brother dearly. The feeling is mutual -- Laugh. Feeling very sick to his tum, Xander nonetheless announced (tearfully) 'I will NOT throw up on my brother's birthday! I WILL NOT! I get to make this choice and I WON'T DO IT!' Sadly, it really wasn't his choice.

Sigh. Despite the unhappy nature of his brother's health, nothing can detract from the joy that Jason's presence in our lives has brought. Oh, we have our ups and downs. He is, as he would be the first to tell you, more like Gawain than like Galahad. He has his full share of human frailties but he also has the brightest blue eyes, an incredibly infectious laugh, and an enormously generous heart.  Unlike so many ten year old boys, Jason loves to talk with girls and has been accorded the great honor of being informed by an 11 year old girl that he is 'the only SENSIBLE boy' she knows. He likes girls -- really likes them as people.

Of course, one of Jason's gifts is that he likes people. I remember, when he was about 2, we went to the grocery store on Veteran's Day. As I was pushing the cart past a table where several Older Vets were sitting (the store had a Veteran's Day display), Jason smiled and burst into "Its a Grand Old Flag". The gentlemen at the table immediately stood at attention and when he was through, one of them came over and gently shook Jason's hand. 'Thank you' he said solemnly, 'It makes me feel good to hear that song.'

When we had finished our shopping, we stopped into Goodwill (which was just across the street). I was looking for little boy clothes. They always seem too small by morning! I found what I needed and we went to check out. As we were walking up, we passed a large (both in height and girth)bearded man who was covered in tatoos and wearing a bandana. Jason looked at him and smiled a broad smile. The man stared and then came over to me.  Jason continued smiling at him. The man, tears distinct in his voice, said, 'He is smiling at me!' I looked and nodded and said 'Yes, he does that.' 'No', the man said sadly, 'You don't understand. Children are usually scared of me.' I looked back at my son. He was still smiling and watching us. 'Well,' I said 'I don't think he is.' The man very carefully held his hand out to Jason, who took it, and said 'Thank you' then walked away quickly but not before I saw the shine in his eyes.  Bless the baby.

And so, today, my first born is ten. No longer a baby, not yet a man but always, always, my special joy.