Juxtaposition

It was a cold morning, and I was alone in the car when the call came the first time.  It was my mom calling, telling me that I needed to come as quickly as possible because my dad’s condition was getting worse.

It was on another cold morning just over two years later when the call came the second time, and I was alone in the kitchen of my house when I answered the phone and heard that I needed to come.  But this time it was my brother-in-law David, calling to tell me that my sister Nancy was in labor, news that I was so happy and excited to hear.

Looking back to the time just before the first call, I was expecting the call to come at some point, although on some level I believed that there could be another outcome, better news coming instead or at least the bad news being delayed for a long time.  The second time, though, I knew the call was coming soon, and I had been eagerly awaiting hearing the words at the other end of the line.  We would be gaining a new member of the family this time.

Both times when the calls came, I dropped what I was doing and frantically packed a suitcase.  Both times, as I backed out of the driveway, I promised to my husband that I would keep him posted about what was going on after I’d gotten there.  Both times as soon as I'd gotten on the road, I called my sister Jennifer to talk to her about her plans for travel from where she was in California, and then I drove in silence while so many thoughts and emotions ran through my head that I finally had to turn on some music.  When Jennifer gave me her flight information after the second call, we both realized that the departure and arrival times of her flight that day were identical to those after the first time the call had come.  And we both knew that she would again be racing the clock to get there in time, with none of us having any control over whether or not she would make it there soon enough.

Both times after I’d started my drive along the same route, I struggled to control the panic I felt rising up in my chest.  Both times, I felt desperate to talk to the person about whom the call had been made: the first time, my dad, and the second time, Nancy. I wanted to call one of the people already there but knew my call would be intrusive in the midst of what was happening there.  Both times I knew that there would be little to nothing I could do to make things any better, and yet both times I felt an almost indescribably pressing need to get there, a magnetic force pulling me east along the interstate.  As I drove, I thought about how odd it was that that particular day was just a regular day for the people in other vehicles I was passing along the road. 

I stopped for gas along the way both times, and, as the fuel pumped into the car, I texted others in my family to see what was going on and to report on my estimated time of arrival.  Both times I called Jennifer again once I got back on the road, and we talked about what we thought would be the quickest way for her to get from the airport to where I would be when she arrived.  Both times I heard the rising panic in her voice when she talked about having to be cut off from communication with the rest of us while she was in the air, and both times I assured her that I would take care of things until she could get there and that transportation would be arranged for her by the time her flight had landed.  Both times I told her that I believed she would make it there in time, and both times I could only hope that that prediction would hold true.

The first time when the call had come, my destination was my parents’ house, but the second time it was the hospital, one chosen by Nancy for her delivery because it was a different hospital from where we had been both times during my dad’s inpatient stays.  Both times when I arrived, I turned the car off and made myself take a few deep breaths before I hit the ground running.  Both times I was acutely aware that life for everyone in my family was about to change.

On both of those days, there was a flurry of text messages and emails being sent between family members across the country.  Both times, I knew my mom and my brother-in-law David were keeping things under control as I traveled, but I wanted to be there to see what was going on for myself.  After I had arrived and had checked things out, both times I reported in to the rest of the family, and only then did I feel like I could breathe. 

On both of those days, I considered driving to the airport to pick up Jennifer when her flight came in but was afraid to leave, and so both times I asked my aunt to get Jennifer to us as quickly as possible.  Both times I remember feeling relieved to be there but at the same time feeling restless, as if I needed to have something to do in the chaos of what was going on around me.  On both occasions, there was an air of surrealism in the knowledge of what was about to occur, and both times the room was filled with emotion.

Jennifer swept in with a sense of purpose like I’d seldom seen before in both cases.  Both times I watched her hug Nancy, David, and my mom, and then when she hugged me I felt such a sense of relief that she was there with us.  There was an intimacy in the room that is difficult to describe, one that created an odd sense of control in a situation that we knew could not be controlled.

The second time, the tears we cried were of joy and excitement and relief; the happiness in the room was like a salve.  Again, those of us in the room made phone calls and sent messages to others who weren’t there, this time with the news of a new beginning.

The Sweetness of Life

There are some things that so easily serve to bring us joy in life, to make us remember that we are lucky to be wherever we are, to show us perspective if only we are willing to see it:

A ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds after a storm

The sound of shells tinkling that can only be heard in the stillness underneath the ocean

The sweet surprise on a newborn baby's face when his eyes focus on something for the first time

The taste of too-strong kool aid

The sound of a grandparent singing a made-up song to a grandchild

The sound of siblings laughing at something only they recognize as funny

The drop of one's stomach on that first downhill of a roller coaster

The sight of a loved one's face in a photograph

The sound of crickets on a summer night with no curfew

The tears of pride that come from witnessing your child show kindness to another person

The pride felt as the National Anthem is played during an Olympic medal ceremony

Hearing a song on the radio that holds special meaning

Seeing the color of a flower as it's just begun to bloom

Seeing a baby smile in his sleep

Smelling honeysuckle, wisteria, or hyacinths at the start of a new season

Opening a new book, full of anticipation for the words ahead, and

Closing it later with the swell of satisfaction from the read.

Mustering up the courage to set a goal, to try something different and new, 

With a parachute of surrounding support from friends and family.

What's in a Name?

I read an article recently about how stressful some people think it is to choose a name for their child: 

"The New Baby Name Anxiety"

Like a lot of things, though, I think the way a person feels about that process really comes down to perspective.

Personally, I considered it an honor to be in a position, along with my husband, to choose a name for both of my children. When I was pregnant with my first child, I read somewhere that it can put a person in a "position of power" to have a name that follows this rule: the last syllable of the first name should start with the same sound as the first syllable of the last name.  That sounds complicated, but it really isn't; an example of this is Stephanie Nelson - the last syllable of "Stephanie" starts with an "n" sound, and so does the first syllable of the last name.  

Obviously, if someone uses a nickname and/or if a woman marries and takes her husband's surname, that pattern may not hold as intended.  I named both of my children with that guideline in mind, anyway, though.  Of course, whether or not that rule is true is really just conjecture anyway.  Who really knows what's in a name??  

Whether or not name selection seems overwhelming can depend on how the parents-to-be view things.  While I think there are definitely some names out there that are a little "out there," it's possible that some people put too much thought into what names are too trendy or popular.  When my sister Jennifer was in the second grade, there were three other girls also named "Jennifer" in her homeroom, which was obviously confusing for everyone involved.  The teacher told the Jennifers to work out what each of them would be called so that there wouldn't be any mix-ups, and one of them right away called dibs on "Jennifer."  Another said she liked to be called "Jenn" and the third one quickly chimed in that she could go by "Jenny," which left my sister as the lone non-nicknamed student.  It was a Friday, and the teacher sent her home to think about it for the weekend, as if it was a homework assignment ... or a punishment.  

My sister didn't seem to mind, though; she announced to my family that she needed a nickname and it couldn't "Jenn" or "Jenny."

"How about 'JB,' for your initials?" Dad suggested.  "OK," she agreed, and that was that.  

Except for some reason I felt the need to have some input into the situation.  Later that weekend, the newly coined "JB" and I were floating around in a swimming pool, just the two of us, and I told her that I wasn't going to call her by that nickname.  "I'll either call you 'J' or 'B,' whichever you prefer," I told her.  "I'll take 'J,'" she said, and thus her family nickname was born.

When my sister Nancy and her husband were trying to choose a name for their baby during her pregnancy, lots of different name combinations were considered.  They did not find out the gender of the baby while Nancy was pregnant, which afforded us an opportunity to chime in on ideas for names of both genders.  In no uncertain terms, there were lots of cooks in the kitchen for that project.  The girl name was easier, because Nancy had had a favorite girl name since childhood.  But the boy name was open to all kinds of possibilities.  By the baby's due date, the parents-to-be had narrowed it down to three boy name possibilities, and then, two days later when Nancy went into labor, they announced that they had shortened the "in case of boy" list to two.  A few hours later, with all of us there and with the baby's arrival getting very close, they were still discussing which boy name they preferred.  Finally, less than an hour before the baby was in Nancy's arms for the first time, she and David came up with a plan: when the baby was born, if it was a boy, they would wait to see with which hand he reached out first - if left, the name would be one of the two choices, and if right, the name would be the other.  Fast-forward to "it's a boy!" and the moment of decision - and it was the right-hand reach that won out, with the newest addition to our family essentially choosing his own name, Crosby.

Birth Story

There aren't many days in a person's life that one knows will always be one of the best, one of the most memorable, one of the coolest days ever, but I am lucky enough to have had one of those days recently, thanks for my sister Nancy and her husband David, who not only brought the newest member into our family but were gracious enough to include many of us in one of the most awe-inspiring things I've ever been a part of. 

Around 8:00 in the morning on Sunday, March 24, my cell phone rang, and I saw on Caller ID that it was my brother-in-law calling.  Given that Nancy's due date was two days before, I got butterflies in my stomach before I even answered the phone.  "David?" I said, instead of even saying hello; I wanted to hear him say everything was ok before I would let myself be overtaken by joy and excitement.

"She's having contractions, about 9 minutes apart," he said. "It's been going on for a few hours, and they're getting closer together." 

"Are y'all ok?" I asked anxiously, still needing that reassurance.

"Yes, we're good, just wanted you to know what's going on," he said.  I could hardly contain myself as I finished talking to him and then dialed my sister Jennifer's phone number to give her the good news.  I talked to her for a couple of minutes and then we hung up so she could call the airline to book the first flight from L.A. to Nashville.  I called our mom, and then I hustled upstairs at my house to get ready to go.  I had gone to Nashville two days earlier to pick up my oldest daughter, who had taken a flight in from college to start her spring break.  We'd spent the night and had driven home the next morning, less than 24 hours before David had called me.  Thinking that Nancy might go into labor while I'd been there then, I'd packed my suitcase as if I were planning to stay for several days instead of just one night; my suitcase, in fact, was still packed, and so I quickly woke up my husband and my daughters to tell them what was going on and then I grabbed my bag and hit the road.

David called again when I was about 30 minutes away from my house to let me know that they were at the hospital and that Nancy was already at 4 cm.  "I'm on my way!" I told him.  I called Jennifer again and got her flight information; her flight was scheduled to arrive in Nashville at 5:45 p.m. that afternoon.  She said she was going to get WiFi on the plane so she could stay up-to-date about what was going on during the four-hour long flight.  "I hope I make it in time to be there when the baby is born!" she said, and I hoped I was right when I told her I thought she would.  As I drove, several group text messages were exchanged by others in the family, all excited and wanting an update as soon as possible.  The weather was stormy, but I made it in decent time to the hospital, parked, and went in through the front door.  I stopped at the Information Desk and got directions to the maternity ward.  I texted David and he met me at the nurses' station, where I was given a Visitor's bracelet so that I would be admitted to the delivery room area.

Nancy looked relaxed and happy when I got there; our mom was there with them and everything seemed to be going smoothly.  About 1:45 p.m., the nurse and the midwife came in and examined Nancy; she was already at 9 cm, but the midwife said it would probably at least a couple more hours before the baby had dropped enough to be delivered.  The midwife told us she would come back in 2-3 hours to see how Nancy was doing.

Lots of text messages amongst the group of Bullard family members were sent back and forth; everyone was so excited and anxious for the baby to be born.  We were all really hoping that Jennifer would make it to the hospital before the baby was born, but with the latest news it seemed possible that she might not be able to.  My mom asked my aunt Ellen to pick up Jennifer from the airport and bring her straight to the hospital; we knew that even if the baby was born before her flight had landed, Jennifer would want to get to the hospital as quickly as possible.  My aunt said she would get Jennifer to us as soon as she could, and I emailed exact directions to her so she would know which entrance to use and how to get to the room once she was inside the hospital.  

As we waited, Mom French-braided Nancy's hair and we chatted excitedly; what was going on almost felt more like a dream than reality.  About 2:15, Nancy was having some problems with itching, a common side effect of an epidural, and so the nurse gave her medicine for that.  Nancy told the nurse that she really hoped our other sister could get there in time, and the nurse said she thought there was still a good chance that would be able to happen.  Nancy said she wanted all of us to stay in the delivery room while the baby was born, and we were thrilled.  As I was finding out, even though I had had two children of my own, it's very different to witness a birth than it is to give birth.

Meanwhile, Jennifer emailed from the plane that her flight was supposed to be landing 20 minutes early.  We passed the new arrival time on to my aunt and crossed our fingers that the extra time would up the odds for Jennifer to be there for the birth.  Nancy's nurse, who was pregnant herself and who like Nancy had opted not to find out her baby's gender ahead of time, seemed to be deliberately taking her time with some things, and when she stepped out of the room we agreed that we thought she was doing everything she could to make Nancy's wish for Jennifer to be there come true.

About 4:15, the midwife did an exam and told us that Nancy was at 10 cm but that the baby still needed to drop a little more, and she added that she thought they should also wait a little longer for the epidural to wear off a little so Nancy would have better control during the delivery.  "Let's think about having you start to push about 5:00," she said.  "Fine with me!" Nancy told her, and we all made yet another silent wish that the baby would be able to wait until Jennifer was there, too.

David's mom Linda got there about that time.  We updated Jennifer, who said she was ready to run to meet our aunt as soon as the plane landed.

At a few minutes after 5:00, the midwife, her assistant, and Nancy's nurse came back in, and the midwife said, "Let's have a baby!"  It took a few minutes for them to get things set up, and then the nurse told Nancy it was time to start pushing.  I had been pacing around a bit prior to that time, full of lots of nervous energy, and at one point the nurse asked me if I wanted something to do.  "Yes!" I said, and she told me to stand at one of Nancy's legs and to count to ten each time she gave me the heads-up that Nancy was having a contractions and should start pushing.  I happily accepted my position, and my mom and David stood on either side of Nancy at the head of the bed while Linda stood to the side.  Every couple of minutes, the nurse instructed Nancy to push, and I counted to ten at what I thought was a medium-speed pace, during which time Nancy pushed.  (As I told Nancy later, I reasoned that if I counted at too fast a pace little to no progress woud be made in the delivery during each contraction - but that too slow of a pace would be unreasonable for Nancy to keep up with.)  We repeated that three times per cycle, and then Nancy got to take a very short break between contractions.  The midwife said she thought the pushing phase would take around an hour, and so I quickly reported that news to Jennifer via email in between contractions.  Jennifer responded that her plane was about the descend; she said she still hoped to make it in time but that of course she just wanted Nancy and the baby to be ok.  Again, I hoped I was right as I told her I thought she would make it in time. 

Nancy continued to push during contractions; I will never forget how awe-inspiring it was when the very top of the baby's head became visible.  "You've got this," I told Nancy at the start of the next contraction, and she looked me in the eye and then we started the cycle again, counting and pushing.  At 5:32, Jennifer texted that she was in Ellen's car and they were 10 minutes away from the hospital.  The two minutes between contractions during which Nancy could take a break from pushing seemed to go by faster and faster; the excitement and the awe in the room was almost palpable.  "Oh my god, this is so awesome," I must have said a dozen times during the next half hour or so; I felt like even that wasn't adequate in describing my emotions.

Jennifer texted to let us know she was one minute from the hospital.  A few minutes later, Linda volunteered to run to the nurses' station to give Jennifer the Visitor's bracelet, but, before she had had a chance to do so, Jennifer burst into the room.  She later told us that, as she rounded the corner to the nurses' station running (literally running - just so you have an accurate picture in your head here.), a nurse yelled, "ARE YOU THE SISTER?" and when she said "YES!!" the entire staff there, all of who had undoubtedly heard that Nancy wanted her to make it in time to deliver the baby, cheered and waved her into the restricted delivery room area, towards the room where we were. 

She was so happy; we all were so happy.  She all but floated over to Nancy to kiss and hug her; there wasn't a dry eye in the room.  A second later the nurse gave us the signal, and the counting and pushing started again.  The nurse told us it wouldn't be long, and the midwife asked if anyone in the room wanted to call out the gender of the baby after the birth.  "I'll do it!" David said excitedly.  By this time, Mom was at one of Nancy's legs and I was at the other, and so Jennifer squeezed in at Nancy's shoulder, opposite David, and we all in complete awe as, at 6:04 p.m., only nine minutes after Jennifer had gotten there, the newest member of our family was born.  

The midwife placed the baby onto Nancy's chest, as we all looked on in wonder, and then David announced, "It's a boy!"  Happy, grateful tears flowed, and Nancy looked down at her son and said, "Well, hello, baby!"  After a few more minutes, she said to him, "Now you need a name!"  After a brief huddle with David, the new daddy announced, "Meet Crosby Bullard Owens."  

As another round of smiles and tears went around the room, it occurred to me that, although it often takes a village to raise a child, sometimes a child can lift the spirits of an entire village.  

Welcome, Crosby; we're so glad you're here.

If the video doesn't automatically load in the box above, CLICK HERE TO WATCH A VIDEO ABOUT HOW CROSBY JOINED OUR FAMILY.

Big News and a Mission

Something monumentally exciting is about to happen in my family: my youngest sister is about to give birth to her first child, the first baby to be born in our family for many years and an event that is heavily anticipated by all of us.  

Since the end of last summer when my sister told me that she was pregnant, we've all thought a lot about how unfair and sad it is that my dad isn't here on this earth with us to experience the joy that this baby has already started to bring to our family.  Since the moment the big announcement was made, though, I have known that one of the biggest goals I will have as an aunt to this child, whom we have all been calling "our baby" since we learned of his/her existence, is to bring my dad into the life of this child, to teach him/her not only about his/her grandfather but also to impart the lessons and the perspective that my dad shared with all of us.  It's not just a goal of mine, actually, it's a mission: I will pass those things on to our new baby, and I will help him/her to know my dad at every opportunity I get, as will the rest of our family.  

I've heard about people setting up an empty chair or leaving some extra space on a church pew as a tribute to a missing family member during a wedding or other event, to mark a spot for that person who can't be present. In the Labor & Delivery room, though, we won't need a chair for Dad -  not because I don't believe that he will be there, but because I know he will - and I know that he won't be sitting down for any of it.  He will be pacing the floor as he tended to do when he was nervous or excited - and he will be standing right by my sister's shoulder and with an enormous smile on his face as he says to her, "You've got this! You can do it!" as his youngest grandchild enters the world and as his youngest child embarks on her journey as a parent herself. 

Dad, holding newborn Nancy, many years ago

This baby will know his/her Gramps, that's a promise I am making to my dad, to my sister Nancy, and to our new baby.

Remember when you were a kid and you'd run up to Dad with some creation of yours in your hands and say, "Look what I made, Dad!"?  That's what you can say to him about this baby, Nancy, although I think he'll already know.//