by Joey | May 5, 2022 | Real Life
It happened so fast. And then in slow motion it seemed. Everything was fine. Perfectly normal. Textbook, and then it wasn’t.
My pregnancy was pretty uneventful. I’m lucky, I know. Besides getting Covid in my 9th month, I didn’t have to experience a whole lot of fear. I had daily conversations with my unborn son during those 15 days of quarantine. We were way, way too close to my due date for comfort. I was terrified I’d go into labor and have to do it all alone. Stay put, little man. Stay put. He did.
I was five days overdue when I went into labor. Set for an induction later that night, I was delighted with his timing. He’s our first. He will be our only. I really wanted to experience what it felt like to go into labor. Thank you, little one.
I have another post in my drafts where I share the details of my labor. But for some reason, this story has been sitting heavy on my heart lately. So it wins.
I’m going to share this one detail because I think it’s a key benchmark. My mom, who had been hanging out with us for a little while, left my hospital room at 10 PM. When she left, a regular delivery was still the plan.
Our son was born via emergency c-section at 10:35 PM.
I wish I could tell you what changed. To this day, I still can’t quite work out the details because I truly felt like I was given a choice. To continue laboring or to go ahead with the c-section.
I really felt like I made the choice.
It’s clear to me now, I did not.
That baby needed out.
And he needed out fast.
I’ve had many surgeries in my life. An OR is fairly familiar territory. I wasn’t afraid. Just ready. Excited. We were only moments away from meeting our son.
That feeling quickly evaporated. As they rapidly prepped me for surgery, I felt sick. I’m going to be throw up I cried to anyone who would listen. And then I did. Violently. Repeatedly. Painfully.
Somehow, they got it under control and my husband joined me, taking his seat next to me.
I was told I wouldn’t feel any pain, but I would feel tugging and pulling. So I waited. And waited. And waited.
Suddenly, the tiniest tiniest little sound.
Wait, was that a baby? I looked all around me. Was that a baby!? Have they started? I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Eventually, a nurse confirmed yes, a baby. A baby boy.
If that’s a baby, why isn’t he crying?
Silence.
Why isn’t he crying? I weeped.
More silence.
WHY ISN’T HE CRYING? I sobbed.
…
Panic gripped my throat. I never once considered this. Not once. Everything was fine. Perfectly normal. Textbook. And then it wasn’t.
The silence hung in the air for what felt like forever.
JESUS, MAKE MY BABY CRY!
The words weren’t fully out of my mouth when his cries filled the room. And I weeped openly. After just a few moments, the nurse came to ask if dad could go be with baby while they got him cleaned up. Go, I insisted.
Jonathan was maybe three paces from my bedside when I heard the doctor start shouting. Push this. Push that. She’s bleeding out.
I felt the first shot. Then the second. I’m going to be sick I whimpered.
You have nothing left the nurse assured.
She was right, but the dry heaves were more painful than the sick. Can’t you make it stop I cried. They couldn’t. The room faded to black. And then back. And then black. And then back.
Can you hear me, baby girl? I nodded, or at least I think I did. When you’re ready, turn your head to the left.
I can’t. I’m afraid I’m not done getting sick. I waited. Then turned.
You have to open your eyes. I did, and there he was. My husband, the man I’ve loved for almost 20 years, holding our son. A perfect little life.
I’ll be honest, I don’t remember much of what came next. And the pieces I do remember make my insides hurt, so I’ll keep those tucked away for now.
But this I share because 6 months ago, I was bleeding out on a table while nurses worked to resuscitate my son. My son who was born APGAR 0. Who remained APGAR 0 for a painfully long time. A curveball I never, ever saw coming. And Jesus rescued us. He made my baby cry. Miracle.
I don’t tell you this story to scare you. I share it because when God shows up so obviously, it deserves attention.
We are both okay. Our little one spent 4 long days in the NICU, far fewer than they initially told us. And he got to come home with us when I was discharged on day 5, something they assured me would not happen. Miracle.
It hits me every now and again, though. More often than I’d care to admit. Our lives took shape when JWH entered our world. Our days, lives and hearts are so much more full. We can’t imagine not ever knowing him. And my heart clenches whenever I realize just how close we came to that reality. A life without him.
Thankful.
So. Very. Thankful.
by Joey | Dec 17, 2021 | Real Life
It’s December 2nd. It’s been almost 2 months since I last got up, got ready, and drove to work for the day. It’s been almost 2 months since I gathered my belongings, switched off the light and turned in the doorway to get one last look. I was emotional. Sad to leave. I walked down the hallway with an ache in my chest. I’ll be back.
The thought of leaving my people truly hurt my heart. The reality that everything would be changing in just a few days, maybe even just a few hours, terrified me. But there was one thing I knew for certain: I would be back. I needed to be back.
I’ll need the separation I assured my work friends as my pregnancy progressed. Truth bomb: I wasn’t ever truly gung ho on the whole baby track thing. I am not the person who goes Gaga whenever I see a tiny human out in public. I tend to steer clear of the littles when they’re around. It’s nothing against them, really. I’d just had my fill in my ten years of nannying.
I’m selfish, I told my people. I know myself well enough to know I’ll need these hours. I’ll need this space. I need a chance to just be Joey and not mom. I had no idea. No freaking clue.
I love my job. Love my job. I love my work people and the college I work for. I am a lifer, God willing. I enjoy what I do daily. I never, ever dreaded getting up or going to work. I still don’t. Except now, things are different.
My heart hurts. I am torn. I want both. I need both. Mentally, I need this job. Financially, my little family needs this job. A job I cherish. A job I spent many days and nights praying for, begging God for. A job I’m thankful for every single day. A job that quite literally changed my life in all the best ways.
But it’s not enough time. I’m sure it wouldn’t ever feel like enough time. I’m not ready, and yet I’m so ready at the same time. I want both.
The moment my son entered the world, I changed. Instantly, just like that. People warn you about that. They tell you it’ll happen. I didn’t believe them. And I know now that for the rest of my life, I will likely feel this way. Like I am meant to be in two places at once.
All this to say, it’s hard, friends. Bringing a human into the world and then dropping him off into someone else’s care is hard. Taking care of yourself mentally is hard. Taking care of your family financially is hard. It’s all just so hard. And I wish it weren’t.
It seems so simple. The solution seems so clear. Do both. Be both. But life, friends? It’s anything but simple.
If all goes according to plan, I’ll return to work on December 16th. Just two months and three days after the most traumatic and wonderful experience of my life. (A story I’ll share once I can find the right words.)
I don’t often comment on things like this — but I feel like it has to be said. I guarantee if a man had to experience all that a woman does to bring a human into the world, things in America in regards to leave would look a whole lot different.
Yeah. I said it.
It’s not enough time.
Real time update 12/17/2021: I spent pretty much the entire evening of December 15th a total basket case. I couldn’t get myself together, just one constant sob. I told my husband it was wild to me that I had more anxiety about returning to work than I did about leaving to birth a human. Ironically, that night, my son slept through the night for the first time: I did not. I laid awake, tossing and turning, envisioning every possible scenario. I love my job and the place I work. I could only imagine how difficult the transition is for moms who don’t. I know that’s a reality many face.
Jdubs (what we’ll call baby here for now) was a dream that morning. I got ready with ease and got some extra hang out time in. I felt an odd sense of peace and gratitude. I’m easing my way back into work. Two half days where baby will hang with dad. Then we have Christmas Break where I’ll only go in another two half days while the college is closed. Once I return full time in January, Jdubs will hang with dad for a few weeks before going to daycare. I’m grateful they get to spend some hang out time together, too, without me hovering.
Walking into the office and falling back into my normal routine, as if I had never left, was a strange, almost sickening comfort. But it was a rhythm I fell back into easily. I walked down the hallway, twisted the key, and walked into my office. Exactly as I left it before everything changed.
My colleagues were wonderful. All stopping by throughout the morning to welcome me back, to check on me. I didn’t shed one single tear that morning.
It felt oddly normal once I was back at my desk, buried in the work I loved before I took on my new role as Mama.
It is hard. But it is good. I slept much better last night, and I’m comforted to know that while this season will be tough, I can do both.
by Joey | Sep 9, 2021 | Real Life
I’m going to let you in on a little secret. I’ve worried since the moment I found out you existed. I worried if you would stick around. I worried about being a terrible mother. I worried if you would be okay. I worried if I was feeding you enough, if I picked the safest stuff for you, if you would grow enough.
I’ve been told that’s what Mamas do: they worry. Which is good because as you can see, I have that down pat.
You’re going to be here soon. I don’t know if it’ll be days, weeks or a month before we meet you. But for the record, you may document this moment because this is the one and only time I will tolerate you being late, but you have special permission to be late.
Why? Because I’m worried.
The world has been a weird place for the last year and a half. We’re in the middle of something called a pandemic. It’s…strange, to say the least. It started back in March of 2020 and people truly panicked, buying up all the paper towels and toilet paper the world had to offer. I’m serious. There was a good long while where finding a roll of toilet paper was like winning the lottery. I think back to that season of the pandemic, and I actually kind of miss it. We were all in it together: learning about this novel virus: The Coronavirus: Covid-19.
We didn’t know much about it at all. We wiped down groceries before bringing them into the house with antibacterial cleansing wipes. The world shut down and we were all ordered to stay home for at least two weeks to flatten the curve. And we did. Everyone did what they could to keep each other safe because we were all scared. Worried.
Little by little, the world started to open back up, but it didn’t look the same. We wear masks now. We’re told to social distance and wash our hands. A vaccine became available earlier this year, and your daddy and I got it as soon as we could. You were just a little peanut then, and let me tell you, we got very, very sick after the second shot, you and me. We were knocked down for a full 24 hours, but it was worth it to keep you safe because I worry.
Yesterday, you and I sat in a drive thru line for three hours. Don’t worry, I brought snacks — right now you really like plums and Colby jack cheese with Italian herb crackers, so that’s what we had. I drove under a tent and a woman in PPE stuck a swab so far up my nose it made my eyes water. She asked if I had any underlying conditions that would make me more susceptible to the virus, and I told her about you. Then she asked why I was there, and I had to tell her.
Exposure.
We’re 19 months into this pandemic, but it finally happened. The virus infiltrated our home. Your daddy hasn’t felt very well for a couple of days. Boom: positive. He’s been staying in our guest room, the one across the hall from your room. And you might find this a little funny, but I have to leave food outside his door. “Food drop,” I shout and scurry away. I hear the door open and swoosh. We do what we have to, right?
If this were a few months ago, it would just plain stink. Unideal, sure. But ultimately probably okay. But like I said, you will be here soon. I don’t know if it’ll be days, weeks or a month before we get to meet you: but please take your dear sweet time, little one.
I want your daddy there with us. And right now, there are pretty serious rules about who can and cannot be in a delivery room, and I can tell you this much: a person who has tested positive for Covid-19 is not welcome.
The nice lady in the PPE told me yesterday that I was negative, so that’s good. You and I are still safe; healthy. But there is still the worry that we could get sick, too.
Worry.
Thankfully, little one, your daddy and I believe in God. And while it might be hard to believe, we can actually find some blessings in this whole mess. So for right now, we’re choosing to believe this is precisely the protection we needed. And in the meantime, we continue to pray that you stay nice and cozy until October.
Please, little one. Because I worry.
by Joey | Aug 25, 2021 | Real Life
I did it again. I dropped off the face of the planet just like I promised I wouldn’t. OG blog friends — do any of you just sort of feel…old in the online space these days? I ditched socials, at least in the consistent consuming/posting kind of way back in May of 2020 and haven’t really looked back. But I miss connecting and sharing. But finding a place on the big platforms that feels comfortable has been a struggle. And then it sort of just dawned on me in an embarrassing way. Why don’t I just return to my own space? My very own place. This will always be my safe space, the place where I make the rules.
So in that spirit, I thought I’d share a few things that have been floating around in my universe lately.
I’m in my third trimester. I’ve had a relatively uneventful pregnancy with this little nugget, and I’m tremendously grateful for that. But something came to light at my most recent routine check-up that isn’t necessarily a big deal, but it’s got me feeling all kinds of…mom guilt? As much as people talk, it’s alarming how little people actually share about the real truths of pregnancy.
Long story short, I haven’t gained enough weight and baby is measuring behind. I’ve been assured that independently, my doctor is not concerned one bit about either one of these…we’ll call them “issues” for lack of a better term. But paired together, it’s worth looking into a little more. All that to say, I have had my first true introduction to what it feels like to feel a bit like a mom failure. I know it’s not the case, but I feel like I’ve failed my kid in some way because the sickness and aversions and dramatic lack of appetite in general have all just been so tough to push through. Sigh. Parenthood.
Work is insane. I don’t even know how to properly describe the insanity, so you’ll just have to take my word for it. Summer/beginning of fall in Admissions is pure delightful chaos. I thrive in this and typically enjoy the exhaustion that comes with it. But navigating the craziness while 8 months pregnant in 100 degree weather? Not exactly ideal but managing none-the-less. I have, however, already put in my reservation for Camp Grandma for this time next year. I just can’t even wrap my head around trying to keep my head above water with a work and keeping a 9 month old alive while the husband has disappeared into a football camp blackhole for 10 days.
I’m not writing. Anything. But I want to be. And I find my mind drifting to the story I abandoned long ago often. You’ve heard me say time and time again that book two is thisclose. And it was. But now it isn’t. There’s so much I’d want to change. And I’m eager to change it, to dive in and pull it all apart. But I just haven’t. If there’s one thing I’ve come to understand about myself and my writing process it’s that I cannot force it. It will come when it will come. And apparently right now is just not that time.
Our kitchen is pretty much done. I still just can’t believe the transformation or the fact that my wizard husband did it all on his own (for the most part). I feel like I should do a whole stand alone post about the process, how much it cost, and maybe even a few things we learned along the way. Would there be any interest in that?
I barely recognize our lives. I’m sure this has happened to at least a handful of you, but our lives changed so dramatically so quickly that I often find myself sort just of in awe of everything. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for all we’ve experienced up until this point. Every opportunity. Every mistake. Every twisted path that seemed to dead end into nothingness. But when I try to piece together exactly how we ended up here, I simply cannot. And that’s how I know God is real. Because friends? I’ve prayed for this exact life more times that I can even say. Sometimes consciously. Usually unconsciously. But always deep down in my soul, I’ve always wanted exactly this. A quaint little home we could make our own. A stable job where I could show up, be myself and feel like what I do actually matters. A family of our own. It’s wild to me that suddenly, here we are. Weeks (yes…WEEKS!) away from meeting our little human and shifting gears into a whole new season of life. And while we’re definitely prepared, I don’t feel quite ready. But again, I guess that’s where God comes in, huh?
Anyway, that’s the update on us for the moment. Fill me in on you, would ya?
by Joey | Apr 30, 2021 | Real Life
Well hello! Yes, I’m going to just drop right on in here like I haven’t been totally MIA since December. It’s 8:35 PM, and I returned from a walk just a bit ago in an attempt to escape the house. And now I’m hiding in the office that’s soon to be a nursery because the husband is cutting and fitting our countertops and well, that makes me nervous.
I feel like I just might have dropped some big bombs on you if you don’t happen to follow my Instagram. Which, if you don’t, I can’t blame you. I stopped posting back in May of 2020. And if I’m honest, I probably won’t ever be there consistently again. Social media just isn’t my thing. But yes! We’re having a baby. A BABY! Can you even believe it? Because most days I can’t.
I’m 17 weeks, and it’s been the wildest experience so far. The first trimester was really brutal. I spent pretty much the entire 3 months feeling like I was battling the worst hangover I’ve ever had. But as I’ve slowly crept into the 2nd trimester, things have really, really improved thank goodness.
I guess the other bomb I dropped, which wasn’t as big, is we’re in the middle of our kitchen renovation! I use the word “we” very loosely. J has singlehandedly done it all. Besides weighing in on the design and materials selection, my only contribution has been tearing up our old linoleum floors. And that was really only because J was struck down with a terrible migraine and was bummed he missed an entire day of progress. He took one week of vacation to get this job done. And I’ve kind of felt like we’re secretly on some crazy DIY reality show where there’s some wild deadline to literally flip an entire room. But he’s doing it! If you’re ever curious about our home reno stuff, I do have a little insta for that. I only pop in when we’re actively doing projects, so don’t expect much in the way of consistency. But I do keep everything in highlights if you fancy that kind of thing. Find it @stayingwithjo.
Work has been crazy but good. I know, it still shocks me that an out-of-the-house office job could suit me so well. I’ve done this weird, creative thing for so long that I just didn’t think I could stomach a structured, traditional job. But I think the fact that while there is some pretty standard structure, every day is basically an adventure. That’s working in a college for you, though. No two days are really ever the same. And I work with a great team of people who have truly become our family.
J and I have been doing a lot of reflecting lately. Our lives just look so incredibly different these days than even this time last year. And I tweeted out last week that if you would have told me when I was packing up our CLT house that this is what our lives would look like in just two years, I would have begged you to promise that you were telling the truth.
We’re happy. We feel settled. Despite the fact that we are literally in the middle of home renovations and cooking a human being we feel settled. I’m just so grateful for how things have worked out. The time we spent at Mom’s was really hard for me; so many giant question marks. I just couldn’t see how things would turn out. I begged and pleaded for God to reveal the rest of the story to me, to speed things up. The desperation I felt for any sense of stability is ineffable. I craved it in a way you seek comfort in turmoil. It was elusive. And I didn’t have the road map or even half a plan forward. Because every path forward we’d tried before lead us into painful dead ends. And I was out of ideas. I had no choice but surrender and Let God.
I’ve craved telling that whole story. All the beautiful, painful details of how God shattered everything so we could rebuild into something we never saw coming. But I think the only way to do that is a book. So I guess I have some work to do.
Anyway, I really thought all the sawing would be done by time I finished writing, but it is most certainly not. (Side note, should it smell like something is on fire? I’m almost afraid to know that answer.)
I’ll try not to disappear for another 4 months, but eh. I can’t make any promises. Either way, thanks for being here! Now, tell me how are you!?
