To have a better understanding of what this is about, it would take the talents of a writer. Someone who is a Merlin with words. You know, creative. Someone who makes sense and can follow an outline or at least make a point once in a while. That person is not me. My apologies. However, this isn't just about me. It's about my youngest child, Jesse and how his father, Jon and I are learning what makes that boy tick.
The first of Jesse's adventures began a whole year, six months and eight days ago. Actually nine days ago to be more exact. On December 15, 2008, sometime around five or six o'clock I started to feel the labor pains. Knowing I wouldn't be able to have spicy foods for quite a while due to breastfeeding, I insisted on going to eat at Uncle Chan's. That was my favorite Chinese buffet in Texas City where we lived at the time. Oh man, it was the best! Fried, fattening, staying warm under those awesome heat lamps. Mmm. So, in between contractions I ate the last crappy Chinese buffet food I would get for the next year.
Afterwards we went home, watched a little television, timed contractions and retired to bed around 11:00 pm. Jon slept like the dead and I dozed in between the ever increasingly painful and longer contractions. By 4:00 am I called the doctor and was given the go ahead to get the hospital.
I woke Jon up sweetly saying "Honey. It's time."
His response was a sleepy, "It's only 4:30 am. Can't you just wait another hour? I'm really tired."
Seriously?
After restraining myself from throwing something heavy with sharp edges at his head, I calmly answered him with, "Excuse me for letting the birth of our son interfere with your sleep schedule, but you better get your ass up. We've got to go (pant, pant, pant) NOW!"
"Oh shit, Baby! I'm sorry! I'm up. Let me just grab a Dr. Pepper and we're gone! Um, I love you."
By 11:18 am on December 16, 2008, Jesse entered the world bright-eyed and crying only a little. God, he was so beautiful. In the moment the nurse laid him on my chest I was so overcome with happiness and nostalgia of when my first two were born. Jesse looked a little like both of them. I looked over at Jon and he was just covered in both pride for his tiny son and the panic of becoming a dad.
Two days later we made it home and things rocked on the way they normally do when a newborn is in the house. Sleepless nights, dirty diapers, LOTS of laundry. All was well and Jesse was progressing along just as he should be.
At this point you may be asking why I'm writing about Jesse and his beginnings. It's not just the usual mother writing about her offspring, as sweet and touching as those stories tend to be. Rather, I'm using this as a journal about the everyday happenings with this silly little monkey that God has blessed us with. In scientific doctor-speak Jesse is non-verbal and we are on a waiting list for him to be tested to see if he is on the autism spectrum. In my terms, it means he's never said a single word, only noises (cute and not so cute), he's never responded to his name, and doesn't make any gestures for the things that he wants, among other things. Bad days are filled with tears, screams and sobs. The really bad days are when both Jesse and I do the screaming and sobbing while we play the guessing game. But the best days? Those are the days that his beautiful smile covers his face. When he runs to us laughing and trying to climb into my lap so I can tickle him or play the little piggies on his toes. Or when he dances to music. Those days just plain rock.
But to wrap up the first and incredibly long start, this is not some woe is we kind of story. It's not a tragic life that we lead. It's just so incredibly different from what I imagined it should be for my child. But isn't that how it ends up for every mother with each of her children?
More soon. It's bathtime for the adventurer.
