Babies, names, surprises, and that damn hospital!

A week ago last Friday I was minding my own business working away when I received a frantic phone call from my wife, who was in St. George for a routine check up. She was due the 31^st of March and was now in the weekly checkup range. For those of you who don’t know, Kate is very much so a creature of habit. She seeks out predictability, and does not like surprises. Hmm...that reminds me of another story.

Over four years ago (can you believe that???) after finishing my last requirements of the institutional hell we called law school, I decided it would be fun to surprise Kate with a trip to Hawaii. After all, she had single handedly raised our two hellions for three years while we were being systematically beat into submission by the Socratic Method. I was careful not to let on about the trip. I made arrangements for everything, the babysitting, hotels, message, helicopter tours, beach time, luaus, …I thought of it all! On the morning we were to leave I woke her up at 4am and proudly announced that she had two hours to pack her bags… we were headed for the islands! I will never forget the look on her face. She was furious! You are kidding she blurted. You expect me to be ready in two hours for an island trip in dead of winter? She exclaimed, “I have no time to get a swimming suit, or to tan, or to get needed supplies, or………” the list was endless. She kept repeating, please tell me you are joking. After two or three times of the question I was also wishing the whole morning was a joke. We made it to the airport on time but she did not speak to me until we were half way to Honolulu. After a rough first day we had a wonderful trip. However, I learned then to hold off on surprises.

Surprises today go something like this. (Early January) Kate, we are having our 10^th anniversary in December and I am going to plan a trip to the Carribean. Does that sound fun? How does your calendar look? Can you tell me if we have anything planned at this point? Boring I know, but safe. Safety, harmony and happiness in my marriage are fundamental.

Ok, so back to the phone call. Kate was frantic and not making a lot of sense. She informed me her doctor had checked her and she was at a three and sixty percent effaced (I have no idea what that means) and that she was likely to have this baby within the next week if not sooner. He demanded that she return on Tuesday of the next week with her bags, if she had not yet had the baby. Kate, in true fashion, told the doctor that would not work. She had a piano recital on Tuesday night, had not finished cleaning the house, had not assembled the new stroller and car seat (why is it that women need new strollers and car seats for each baby? I mean, can’t the same baby use the hand me down model?), had not finished washing the baby clothes, had not received the play set ordered on line yet, and most of all, had not scheduled to have the baby until the 24^th, which was her induction date (oh yes, she has chosen to be induced on each child for the predictability of the birth date..). The doctor had just smiled and told her to be here Tuesday. As she was talking to me on the phone she was arguing with the receptionist on whether she was required to be there Tuesday, or whether she could just keep the previously scheduled and planned for weekly checkup on Friday and totally ignore the sound advice given by a medical professional with 10 years of schooling and 29 years experience (and was annoyed that the receptionist found her questions and resistance to obviously sound advice somewhat humorous).

My immediate thought and almost action was to, as I was listening to one half of the verbal standoff between my wife and the receptionist, yell out loud, “Hey Kate, how in the hell do you intend to hold this baby off if he is on his way?” However, nine years of marriage experience prevailed and I bit my tongue, calmly indicated that I was tied up in an important conference call (yes it was a lie, but justified considering the circumstances) and ask her to call me when she got it all sorted.

After nine years of marriage I have learned that it takes my wife approximately three hours to process and completely come to terms with new information. I liken it to a computer lock up and the infamous hard reset. Yes, it is a major pain to sit there and wait on the re-boot, but once it has done its thing you are usually get back to where you needed to be with minimal damage. Almost three hours to the minute I received a rather calm call from my wife indicating that she was now scheduled to be at the doctor on Tuesday (four days) and that she was going to have a baby that day, that she had scheduled a recital for Monday night, that the play set order via UPS would be there Saturday morning, that she was on her way home to finish cleaning, washing and packing, and that I was to clear my calendar for next week because I was going to accompany her to the hospital on Tuesday morning.

Of course the timing for me could not have been worse. My boss was to fly in to Vegas on Tuesday and be joined by his boss from the UK on Wednesday for meetings Wed and Thurs on succession planning, budgets, legal overview, etc. I made a half hearted attempt to explain to my wife that I would need to shuttle back and forth at least one day to please corporate. I could hear the emotion in her voice. I was dealing with a hormonal, highly emotional, and highly volatile time bomb that I wisely chose not to set off. I made the calls removing me from the weeks activities and likely guaranteeing a 50% cut to my bonus this year. I bit my tongue, smiled, and remembered that hell hath no fury like a women scorned.

The weekend was comical for us. We have never experience labor pains at home like this because of the inducement route my wife had chosen. We were used to cruising over to the hospital on the day of inducement with some snacks, a DVD player and Kate’s top five love flicks, hooking Kate up to the drugs and epidural, a little sleep, a few movies, BAM, baby is here. However, this time she was having some pretty strong contractions and we were not sure whether we should be on the road, or resting, or what. It was comical. Tuesday morning we arrived at the doctor’s office with great anticipation only to find out that she was at a 3+ and the same effacement as before. The doctor told us she was having some pretty good contractions and that he recommended we go do some shopping and enjoy the day and get checked at the hospital before we left town that night because he was still nervous that this baby was closer than anticipated. Kate and I were furious. Kate was mad she had made all the arrangements for no reason. I was mad because the doctor suggested we go shopping all day. Damn that wretched doctor.

After seeing my wife’s disappointed face, I decided to be a sport and endure the shopping. It is not often I get to spend a day with my wife…how bad can it be? After the third glare from her I even shut off my blackberry and devoted the day to her. It was husband of the year material.

The shopping began rather light, choosing a new pair of shoes for her at Nordstrom. It then got a little more heated with purchases at JC Penny, Sears, Deseret Book, JoAnn’s, and Michaels. Our bank account balance was dropping faster than Bush’s approval ratings and I could smell disaster. (Trish, we now have, thanks to you, Dyson Vacuums, Models 7, 15, and 14 because Kate informed me, with little tears in her eyes, that you told her the 14 was by far the best model and that she was not happy with the performance of the 15 so far….) I needed an alternative plan, and I needed it fast.

Then it came to me. I said, Kate, do you really want to have this baby today? Of course she did. I suggested then we do a little walking to speed up the contractions and get the old heart pumping. She was willing and we headed to the Dixie College track where there was nothing to buy and plenty of room to walk. We did two miles, grabbed lunch, and then hit two miles in the afternoon. The contractions were coming on like gang busters and she was excited. We headed to the hospital for a check, feeling fit and still with enough money to get home if necessary.

The subject of checking…. We are all adults here, and this must be addressed. Until this pregnancy I did not fully notice the number of time my wife was “checked” by nurses, staff, doctors, other random people that wonder by, etc. I mean, every time I turned around someone was preparing to “check” my wife. I mean, stop the madness! How many checks are necessary? How much is there in...well… there… to check? Don’t get me wrong, I have no desire to do the checking, and I have no idea what I would be checking for… but my hell, enough is enough. All I am saying is that I think there should me a moratorium on checking.

To make a long story shorter, she was admitted and we had little Jesse James at 2am Wednesday morning. Jesse was three weeks early weighing a light 7lbs 3 oz and 19 inches long. Jesse had a few initial breathing problems. The NICU unit worked him over for a half hour and then monitored him for 12 hours. We were glad we hadn’t tried a home birth like all of our freak friends try to promote these days.

And for natural birth, not a fan of the idea. No offense, but I consider the fact that doctors and pharmaceutical companies kill thousands of rats perfecting pain killing drugs natural and I am perfectly content to pay to have my wife drugged up good for delivery, and I might even steal a pill or two when no one is looking to help dull the pain of the verbal abuse I take from my dear sweet wife while she enduring the final moments of labor.

The name. Name was my idea. All of you avid admirers of the LDS faith and bloodlines will appreciate the story behind. Both are family names. Unfortunately, the same family! Kate and I share a great great great (nine times) grandfather. His name was Jesse. Kate loves the name Jesse.

Jesse had a son named James who had two sons, Henry (my Holt family) and George (Kate’s Holt Family). This was all revealed at our wedding when my grandmother (who was a Holt) sat down with Kate’s grandfather (who was….yes you guessed it…a Holt) and charted this thing out….a hidden blessing of genealogy is that it easily identifies the in-breeding.

To make a long story longer Kate really liked Jesse but felt obligated to have a James since it was a “family name” on both sides (her brother, my brother, my uncle, my grandfather, and both great grandfathers). She came to the conclusion that we would need to have at least two more boys because she couldn’t decide. Seeing the predicament I was now in I simply waited until the epidural was in and the pain medication was dripping into her veins and had her sign a few dozen consent forms authorizing the combination of the two names into one! So far she has not caught on.

Besides, the kid is destined to be a champion WWE wrestler with a name like that.

Mom and Child are doing well. Dad is tired.