The day we met Jovie

Well, I sit here this evening, I can’t help but think about what I was doing during these moments a short six years ago. She was about 4 hours old, our family was slowing trickling in and out of our room each waiting their turn to get a peek at their new niece, granddaughter, godchild, or honorary family member. Once everyone had gone home, I remember thinking that it was time for me to hold my baby again. I knew that I had enough of sharing her for today. There are so many things about that day that I remember so clearly. And other parts that I have chosen to never think of again. 🙂 I remember right after she was born I looked over at her with the nurses and I saw what struck me as the biggest baby hand I’d ever seen. Meh- probably just the drugs. Right? Then I look again each nurse is taking turns lifting her up just slightly off her little table as if to be guessing her weight. Each passed her nurse to nurse. Smiles, giggles, head shakes, talking- each of them with their own reaction to holding her. Must be a normal nurse thing to do, right? The doctor and I visited while he finished his tasks and I joked that she would have giant calves and be a superstar runner like her dad. Or a Vikings Cheerleader. Those were her options. The Vikings were on in my room. Scott, Jovie and the herd of nurses are now gone to the nursery and suddenly I’m all alone. I kept touching my stomach. I’d never felt skinnier! Holy buckets, I was a freakin’ supermodel. Thinnest I’d been in months, in fact. My mom came into the room chuckling to herself, followed by Scott. His exact words were this: “Well honey, she’s the biggest one in the nursery. In fact, there are twin boys in there born 3 days ago and she’s bigger than the two of them combined.”

My mind instantly went back to my doctor’s appointment on the 25^th-my due date. I sounded like a broken record that day in that doctor’s office. “I’m done. Seriously. I know you’ve heard that before a zillion times, but I’m not lying. I am all done. She needs to come out.” I offered to head upstairs and “get this party started”, but Dr. Bro declined my invitation. (Apparently he doesn’t like to party.) He said I could come in Wednesday of that week. I couldn’t. I was playing golf with my husband at Ponderosa. A tee time is a tee time folks and I wasn’t going to miss it. We agreed on Thursday. It wasn’t until I got in the car that I realized what her upcoming birthday was going to be. 8/28/08. A birthday as unique as the little girl who was about to be born on that special day.

Fast forward and we are getting ready to leave the hospital. Two days is enough. First hurdle- the outfit I brought for my newborn was in fact, a size newborn. Makes sense, right? Upon realizing that even if it went over her head, it wasn’t going over anything else on her newborn-ish body. Plan B. I put my hands inside and strectched with all my might. Try it again. It fit. Like a (latex) glove. She’s in piece #1. Now the pants. Well, she was ready for a flood, but they were on. Time to go, time to get this parenting journey started. Scott drove home slower than I could have walked. He took streets I’ve never been on, perhaps even street NO ONE has been on. We weaved and winded home to avoid busy streets, or traffic in general. We walked in our house and set her on the floor. Well- now what? That’s it? We just have to figure this out? No nurses, no doctors, no parents, just us. Us and this relatively tiny human being.

I will say that Jovie Night #1 was someone I didn’t want to hang out with. She gave us an absolute run for our money. It rained that night. I know that because I spent three hours driving around trying to get her to stop screaming and crying. It wasn’t good. Getting that new-parents kind of scared, we ended up in the ER on night 1. We get checked in with our newborn scream machine and it happens. She poops. A LOT. Then, instantly asleep. It was one of three times in six years I have felt scared as a mom. (A potential broken arm and a massive split eyebrow were my other two.)

All of these moments plus TONS more have been crammed into six short years that flew by. I think a lot about how much fun the three of us have. So much laughing, so many jokes, so much love. But I also think, “I hope I do enough. I hope she remembers how much fun we have.”

I hope- she never turns 7….

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