When we discovered we were expecting a fourth baby, it was not a joyous moment. This pregnancy was not planned (and actually, this makes the second surprise pregnancy in a row), but despite the lack of instant joy, we were sure it would all end up being for good. When I gave Jesse the news, I asked him if he was freaking out on me or anything, because he really didn't react much, but his response was basically, by the time the baby is due (Oct. 5th), we'd be in big trouble anyway, if we still didn't have a job. He had a point there. We needed to have ourselves taken care of one way or another by then, or we were in trouble no matter what. And aside from that train of thought, I was very blessed to attend a Stake Women's Conference on the day I took the pregnancy test, where Sheri Dew was the guest speaker. It was an *amazing* talk. I was in tears for at least half of it. She was saying exactly the things I needed to hear. She talked for almost two hours, so it's hard to summarize what she said, but her most important message to me personally was something I already knew in my heart, but desperately needed to be reminded of: Heavenly Father knows and loves you personally. He knows your individual situation. He sent you to earth with an individual mission. He knows exactly which blessings you are in need of, and when you need them. If you trust in Him, and don't turn away from him, but rather towards him, in times of trouble or distress, He will bless you when and where and how you need it. And if you strive to follow His will for you, you will be happy, because you are fulfilling the mission you came to earth with. She said she likes to think of each of us coming to earth with a little "to-do list pinned to our lapel". When we accomplish our mission, we're happy. My patriarchal blessing told me that my "greatest mission" is that of motherhood. So how can another baby not end up making me happy, even if it's in less than ideal circumstances?? I had to trust that the Lord would take care of us. It has been a test of my faith, to be sure... but I also felt the strong impression during her talk that I was doing well in trusting the Lord and leaning on Him during that period of my life. Sheri Dew also spent a lot of time talking about what I remember is one of my Dad's favorite scriptures: "And my father dwelt in a tent" (1 Nephi 2:15). I had forgotten exactly what Dad likes to say about that verse, but I love what Sister Dew did with it. She went on to question why on earth we're reminded so many times that Nephi's family lived in a tent, why Abraham lived in a tent, and so many other prophets dwelt in tents (or poor Ether, who didn't even have a tent - just a cavity in a rock). What's so important about knowing about a tent, she wonders? She decided that it's to illustrate the less-than-ideal situations that even the most amazing prophets have dealt with in their lives. She also quoted this, from Elder Jeffrey R. Holland: "If your prayers don't always seem answered, take heart.... If for a while, the harder you try, the harder it gets, take heart. So it has been with the best people who ever lived." I felt such a great truth in that sentiment. Like confirmation that our current life situation doesn't reflect on the quality of our beings. We have a hard time to make us stronger, and bring us closer to the Lord. Even the prophets of old have had those sorts of experiences.
We were finally blessed with Jesse getting a job through a temporary agency in early March, about a month after we discovered the pregnancy. It was difficult to have him going back to work (after having him around 24-7 for the past year and a half!!) right when I was in the most difficult point of pregnancy. This particular pregnancy was actually overall very good, but it was probably the most difficult first trimester I've had. Not to say that it was bad - I still had very little to complain about, compared to what other women go through - but if I let myself get even the slightest bit hungry, I'd be instantly nauseous until I finally ate something. That was difficult to adjust to, and then there was the typical extreme sleepiness I'd get with first trimester symptoms. But, we adjusted in due time. We went on to hire a local midwife to manage our pregnancy, and things progressed well.
At 20 weeks, we had a routine ultrasound. We learned then that we were expecting another boy. That news was hard for me, initially. I was sure, in a way I'd never before been sure, that I was carrying a little girl. Not only did I feel so sure, but I also wanted so much to be right, for so many different reasons. But the biggest were that I wanted Melinda to have a sister, and I wasn't sure about having more children after this one. The other reason was that Jacob and Alex had been *seriously* testing my limits, and the mere idea of a THIRD BOY in my house outright terrified me. Brought me to tears!! I couldn't tell people the news without tears welling up in my eyes for a few weeks. I thought I'd never get over it. Surprisingly, I eventually did, without ever even realizing it. I don't know when I gave up mourning the little girl I wasn't meant to have, but eventually I just got excited about having a baby at all! And somehow, Melinda did the same thing - she went from being sad about not getting a sister, to just plain obviously excited to have a newborn baby to dote on. I couldn't say when either one of us made that switch, but it happened (thank goodness!). During that 20 week ultrasound, we also got slightly disturbing news: Baby boy was diagnosed with hydronephrosis- enlarged kidneys that could mean that the urination process isn't happening correctly, which usually leads to increased infections and/or kidney damage in a baby. Not a dire diagnosis... but certainly not something I wanted to worry about on top of all the other life stresses.
Skipping forward to week 32, we went in for a follow-up ultrasound, which is recommended for hydronephrosis. There was a chance it could be worse (the original diagnosis was on the mild-moderate side of the scale), most likely it would be the same, and a very, very small chance it could improve. The night before the ultrasound, Jesse was giving Melinda and Jacob Father's Blessings for back-to-school. I asked Jesse to give me a blessing, as well. I was moved to tears. Not only did Jesse bless me that the baby would be perfectly healthy, but that "this baby would be a benefit to us". I'll be honest - I didn't have a great amount of faith that the ultrasound would show Baby to be perfectly healthy. I was skeptical. But the reassurance that he would be a benefit in our lives was HUGE to me, because I continued to worry about adding a fourth child in our circumstances. (While Jesse did have a job, it continues to be through the temporary agency, and the pay is barely more than he made right out of college, when we had only ONE child to care for! Not the most stable financial environments...)
But amazingly, that ultrasound did indeed show that Baby was 100% healthy. I could hardly believe it. (What a confirmation to me of the way blessings work!) It was such a relief, such good news! Baby was also found to be quite on the large size for his gestational age, but I wasn't worried. After all, Alex had been 10lb 10oz without giving us any trouble at birth! This one, we thought, would probably be about the same size if he continued to grow at an expected rate. On the way home from the ultrasound, we got a call from the elementary school (on the first day of school, mind you!). Melinda was in the nurse's office after hurting her arm, and wasn't calming down. That wasn't like Melinda at all, so we stopped at the school instead of going straight home. Jesse took one look at her and felt he knew for sure that she had broken her arm. A trip to Urgent Care confirmed it. Long story short, the fracture had bent in such a way that it would need to be set, and so we went to an orthopedic surgeon, Melinda was put under with anesthesia, and had her bone set and cast (in hot pink, of course). Amid all of this, Jesse and I were absolutely panicking about our insurance situation. We were *supposed* to have had a permanent job with decent benefits by now, but he was still employed through the temp agency, and we only had a Limited Benefit insurance plant because of it. Limited Benefit, as in, the insurance only covers up to $1500 out-patient costs for an entire benefit year. Clearly, going to Urgent Care, an Orthopedic Surgeon, and utilizing a hospital facility with general anesthesia and all of that was going to cost us more than $1500, and our savings was already dangerously low. This was the kind of situation we hoped would never happen while using this insurance plan. But, happen it did. We applied for financial hardship aid with the hospital, and they waived everything but the $1500 insurance gave them (plus the $500 we charged to our credit card the day of the procedure). We still have to pay the surgeon and urgent care (along with a lot of little random charges from anesthesiologists, x-ray techs, medical equipment charges (for the brace, etc.)... but it's at least within our general means, even if it does make life stressful and uncomfortable.
Anyway, Melinda's story isn't really Malcolm's story, but the stress of having a child break their arm and the financial burden it causes seemed relevant to our mind set as of late. ;)
Finally, we get to the end of the pregnancy. Baby had been head-down for weeks and weeks, now. I had started working out at the very start of the year, before I knew I was pregnant, and did a mostly good job of continuing with the workouts throughout the pregnancy. Late summer threw some wrenches into my plans, and so I stopped exercising as frequently, but I still tried to do my best. By the end of my pregnancy, I had managed to hurt my toe joint, and was trying to stay off my feet as much as possible. Still, I was finding at my prenatal appointments that I really wasn't gaining much weight at all, and starting to hold steady at the end, there. I started out at 212lbs, and my last weight check (a day before I went into labor), I was at 228. That was my least amount of weight gain out of all four pregnancies! My midwife and her apprentice were both thinking that baby would be about 9lbs when he was born, based on both the ultrasounds and their palpation. They offered a cervical check, if I wanted one, at my 39 week appointment. I declined, though I was desperately curious, because I know that cervical status means absolutely nothing for the onset of labor. I didn't want to tart playing mental and emotional games with myself! And besides, I was feeling like I would probably go to 41 weeks or so, since Alex had been about that late, and Melinda close to it.
So when my water started leaking in the middle of the next night, exactly at 39 weeks gestation, I wasn't sure what to think. One, I had never had my water break until I was in hard labor or already pushing. Two, I had never had a baby this early!! Honestly, I sort of ignored it without even really thinking about it too hard. I just wanted a good night's sleep, after all! Isn't that what every pregnant woman wants? Yet, the next morning, it was the kids' "Walk and Wheel Wednesday" at school. I felt obligated to make sure they could participate and get their card punched and earn a treat. So we parked our car halfway to school, and walked the rest of the way, to and from. And as delicately as I can put it, by the time I was back home that morning, I was afraid people were going to take one look at me and think I had peed my pants. I just kept having little gushes of fluid all morning long. But no contractions to speak of. If I sat down and concentrated on it, I could feel contractions. But if I were up and walking around, I couldn't tell if they were contractions or just random, painless tightening that I always got when I was walking around, those days. But I kept track as best as I could:
8:52
9:03
9:19
9:31
....
10:21?
10:38
....
11:15
....
11:49
12:05
12:27
12:45
1:00
1:25
1:44
2:07
2:22
2:32
2:42
....
At around 1pm, my Visiting Teacher from church came over, and I had mentioned I was pretty sure I was in early labor. She was so kind to sit and read to Alex, while I jumped in the shower. I had been doing chores all morning, both to keep myself busy and to make sure the house was ready for a homebirth and a new baby. Laundry was done, picking up and straightening up was done, midwife was called and informed, and that just left me to take care of. Getting a shower (and shaving my legs!) was nice to cross off the list. As you can see, right around 2:30, there, is when I picked the kids up from school. At that point, I started having contractions every 10 minutes apart. And instead of getting to go right back home and be comfortable, I had to wander around the school, looking for Melinda's misplaced lunchbox. I also let a few people know I was in early labor, and some people's reactions were just insane! One mom overhead me telling another mom, and her eyes popped open so wide, and she asked if I was okay, or if I felt like I needed to go to the hospital. (Um, no, I feel absolutely fine, but thanks for being so concerned?) Melinda's teacher somehow heard the news in the few minutes between telling other people and seeing her in person, and her reaction was one of almost horror. ("Your in labor? RIGHT NOW??" Well, you see, the way early labor works, is that you feel fine for a solid 10-20 minutes between contractions... and those contractions were still not in the least bit difficult...) Anyway, we finally got home, and my midwife stopped by to check me. Baby was still not descended - same position he was in at my prenatal appointment, same position he had been in for weeks. Oblique in my pelvis, head down, otherwise good. But definitely not engaged. Since my water had been leaking allllll day long, we did not do a cervical check, lest we inadvertently introduce bacteria into the equation. This was somewhat disappointing to me. But we talked to Jesse, who decided to come home. In the past, when I hit 10-min contractions, it was usually just a few hours until birth. And he wasn't having much luck concentrating at work, knowing I was in labor (I had texted him that morning, letting him know what was going on).
By the time Jesse got home at about 4:30pm, contractions were averaging 5 minutes apart, but not really getting stronger. They were easy enough to notice at this point, and had the classic feel of starting low, with the tightening gradually moving to the top of my uterus, but they still were easy peasy to walk and talk through. By dinner time, they were 3min apart, and I thought for sure we'd have a baby within a couple hours. I had my friend Jenny on call for child care, I let my midwife know they were getting closer, but she could tell they still weren't hard for me. In fact, I later learned that she wasn't even counting any of this as real labor, since it wasn't really affecting me.
Things kind of continued to hold steady for a couple hours at that point. We ended up going ahead and putting the kids to bed. I laid with Alex and sang him songs until he fell asleep. And when I was done, I decided I was tired of messing around at this point, and started walking around our little block to see if I could kick things into gear. I kept a brisk pace, talked to baby, sang to baby, enjoyed the warm night air, and did something like 6 laps around the block. Which, if you calculate it, ends up being more than a mile and a half. While I walked, both Jesse and my midwife called and checked in on me. While I was walking, I was having contractions about 2min apart, and some of them were nice and strong, but most were still about the same. Okay, midwife said, keep me updated, let me know when you want us to come. It still wasn't hard, though. And that's always been my gauge. When it feels like I need to stop and breathe through contractions, that's when things are getting serious, and when I need to move forward with plans, whether it's for having midwives over or for going to the hospital. Any earlier than that is silly. And I still hadn't gotten there, despite the close contractions.
Finally, I got tired of walking. I went back inside and took a rest at my computer, sitting on my exercise ball and keeping my hips moving. At that point, contractions seemed like they stopped. Oh, no. This was not familiar. All my other labors had followed such a similar, predictable pattern. This one was definitely throwing me for a loop, with my water leaking all day, contractions being slow to start, never getting difficult, and now fading away. Now I was getting worried, because I know that there would be pressure to go the hospital and get an induction if my water was broken for much longer without any progress. (I would probably refuse, if all things felt otherwise normal to me, but I don't like pressure and confrontation, and so the whole situation bothered me immensely.) For the next few hours, I was having extremely weak contractions very irregularly, from 12 minutes apart to maybe 25 minutes apart. I was beyond frustrated. I kept thinking how my labors have only ever been 7.5-9 hours from the very first contraction until baby is born, and here I was, almost 24 hours after my water started leaking, with practically nothing to show for it. My one consolation was that at least it hadn't been a day full of hard work. Yes, there were contractions, but nothing difficult or exhausting, at all. Just a lot of mental and emotional exhaustion surrounding the advent of birth. Around 9pm, I called my midwife again, frustrated and asking for suggestions. Her advice was to go to bed, get some rest, and start seriously trying to move things along in the morning. Honestly, I hated that advice. I wanted to be done hours ago, not thinking about doing it all over again the next day, and with some sort of time limit stamped into my brainwaves!! So I kept trying to keep things going while Jesse and I watched TV. I paced, I did lunges, I did pelvic tilts, I bounced on my exercise ball... I just didn't want to hold still and have things completely stop. But finally, around 11pm, I gave up. We gave up. Off to bed we went, discouraged and everything. Jesse fell asleep pretty quickly. I continued to stew quietly.
Then suddenly, at 11:32pm, I had another contraction. But this one really got my attention - it was a minute and a half long, and felt much stronger than any before it had. It's peak definitely made me practice my relaxation and breathing, and it dissipated slowly. It felt like a tide rolling in through my body very slowly, reaching a peak, and then slowly moving back out, taking the pain along with it. I logged it on my iPod application, and I continued to lay in bed. 11 minutes later, another one just like it, this one 1min 44sec long. 10 min later, another, this one 2min 24sec. This is it!! It was finally serious labor!! I was thrilled. But those contractions were not fun, lol. I had somehow managed to tell myself the whole day before, with those early labor contractions, that labor and delivery would be a lot easier than I remembered. These contractions made me realized I had really been a fool to think that! No, it would definitely be hard work. More contractions, more tides rolling in bringing pain, rolling out taking the pain away. I had heard of this visualization before, but this was the first time it really felt like that to me.
12:09am
12:18am
12:36am (using the bathroom instead of lying still surprisingly spaced this one out)
12:48am
12:53am - 5 minutes!
1:02am - 9 minutes
I told myself at this point that if I had 2 in a row that were close to 5 minute apart, I'd call the midwife and have her come over. I was starting to feel different. Tingly. Warm. At about the same time, Alex woke up and wouldn't go back to sleep, so Jesse was busy trying to keep him in bed, knowing our room (where he usually sleeps on the floor in a sleeping bag if he wakes up in the middle of the night) wouldn't be a good place for him to be this time.
1:13 - 5 minutes
1:19 - 6 minutes.
That was it. I called in the troops. Midwives said they'd be over shortly, and Jesse's sister Rachel was asked to come and stay in the kids' room with them while things were happening. Rachel made it first. Midwives took a bit longer to get here than I expected, since it's less than a 10 minute drive. I guess talking to each other on the phone and gathering equipment takes a little extra time. Anyway, by the time I told people to come, I was already done having 5 minute contractions. They were now only 2 1/2 minutes apart, sometimes less than a minute:
1:21am
1:23
1:25
1:28
1:30
1:32
1:34
1:36
1:38
And these contractions were all BIG contractions. Long, painful. It was only a couple contractions into that list that I could not keep walking in the middle of them. I had to lean over and grab a chair, moan loudly. I started to panic just a little bit about doing this all over again. I remember very clearly that I told Jesse I was not happy that I'd have to push out another baby. My mindset was very different for this birth compared to my last one... instead of eager and excited, I was feeling more resigned and tolerant. (More like a slightly unwilling martyr?) I knew I was transitioning. I never felt like "I can't do this anymore!" the way you often feel during transition, but I definitely felt "I don't WANT to do this anymore! Not now, not ever!!" I groaned internally, I grimaced, I knew what was coming, knew I could do it, but I didn't want to face it.
But the midwives got here around that time, started quickly setting up their equipment (most of which went unused and unneeded). Jesse helped spread drop cloths and chux pads on the floor next to the bed where it was apparent that I felt like staying. For a long time I stood next to the bed, leaning down to brace myself with my arms during the hardest part of a contraction. I warned the midwives (my midwife, her assistant, and her back-up midwife) that I could tell I was going to need to push soon. I was starting to feel the slightest bit grunt-y through the contractions. Not long after, I was too overwhelmed to continue standing through contractions, and got down on my knees and buried my head into my arms. And yes, soon enough I was pushing. Nobody directed me, nobody really said anything at all. My midwife's assistant, who was managing my birth (I was pleased about that, I like her personality best of the three of them), kept down on the floor, kept an eye on the birth canal, and did frequent monitoring of baby's heart rate with a stethoscope. Jesse often rubbed my back lightly through contractions, which felt heavenly and wonderfully distracting. I wish I could have found my voice enough to ask him to keep doing that constantly, but I was too far gone at that point. If I would have had it in me, I probably would have cried. I really, really did not want to be in labor, to be pushing, again. The only clear thought running through my head was something along the lines of "I hate this so much! I don't want to have to do this!" And it's odd, because I've never thought anything along those lines in any of my previous births. It was a very negative turn for me to take, and I wish it wasn't that way, but that's where I went this time. Maybe if the whole process hadn't been so drawn out, things might have been better. I was much more excited the previous afternoon, after all!
Anyway, I didn't look at a clock at all during any of this. Jesse thinks I pushed for about 20 minutes... if you count even the first few perfunctory pushes that hardly count for anything, it might have been that long. By the time I got serious and was pushing through entire contractions, it wasn't very long at all. Maybe 5 or 6 entire contractions?. Still, it was definitely longer than I pushed with Alex, and longer than I pushed with Jacob... I can't remember about Melinda's birth. Might have been about the same with her. Anyway, the whole sensation is utterly awful and uncomfortable, and only increased my desire to cry, even if I couldn't physically bring myself to do it. All I could do was push through it, unwillingly, but half desperate at the same time.
Finally, finally, I could tell he was coming out. Finally his head came out. I knew it. I didn't have to ask. I didn't say anything. Nobody else said anything. It was quiet and calm. One more big push, and he was out (2:11am). And before he was even all the way out, he started crying. None of my other kids have ever done that. He was passed under my legs and placed on the floor in front of me, and I picked him up. He was so small, and so perfect! I held him against my chest, and a towel was placed on top of us both. Jesse leaned over my shoulder and watched him as well. From all that negativity, I was suddenly so overwhelmed and happy that I got teary-eyed. I'm not an overly emotional person at birth, and I'd never done even that with my other children. I was happy, but not overwhelmed. This time, I was! But oh, I was so tired, too!! It wasn't very long before I told Jesse quite plainly that I don't ever want to give birth again. (We'll see if I actually stick to that, but no, it was definitely not fun.)We got up into bed, I got tasty drinks and warm blankets, and lots more snuggles with my newest little boy. We just sort of kicked back and relaxed for a good long time, trying to nurse, but a certain little someone not being very interested. And waiting for the placenta to be delivered. Finally, after about 45 minutes, my midwife asked if I felt like I could push it out, even if I don't have the urge. I thought I could, so I went ahead and pushed. It came out easily, though it's always a little startling at how big it feels! Finally we could get on with the postpartum care. I don't remember what order everything happened in, but they checked me out and I had only a slight tear for which I decided I'd forgo stitches. The placenta was placed in a gallon-sized bag and set near me for a long time... maybe 2 hours?... before we cut the cord. During this time, Alex (who had stayed awake this whole time! Thank goodness Rachel was there!) came in to meet his new baby brother, and was instantly in love with how cute and small he was. Rachel also got to meet him nice and early, due to being with Alex. :) Just a couple minutes later and Melinda got out of bed for a drink of water and stopped in to say hello, too. Jacob slept right through it all, and we opted not to wake him, so his first meeting was in the morning when he woke up on his own.
Baby was eventually weighed, and while I knew he looked small compared to Alex, was was shocked to find I had just birthed my smallest baby yet - only 8lb 6oz! Beat Melinda by 1oz. ;) Brown hair a similar shade to Melinda's, long fingernails, no real vernix to speak of, but nice fuzzy languno on his shoulders He had a lump on his head, which my midwife initially called a caput, but eventually revised to hematoma. The difference being mostly how long it takes to go away. I really liked this information I read about it:
A cephalohematoma is a collection of blood under the periosteum. It is almost always a complication of childbirth. It most commonly occurs when the fetal head is forced through the birth canal; the head is propelled forward while the cervix grips the scalp tenaciously. This sliding, tearing force can tear tiny veins that nourish the periosteum from the bone side. This tearing of vessels causes bleeding (hemorrhage) under the tough covering of each bony plate (the periosteum), and a tense pocket of blood collects. This is apparently a painless process.
The result is a squishy swelling with distinct borders that feels just as if there were a tiny water-filled balloon under the scalp. It is differentiated from caput succedaneum in that the caput is a more generalised and very temporary swelling of the scalp and disappears in a day or two, but the cephalohematoma becomes more distinct to see and feel over the first few days of life.
The course of a newborn's uncomplicated cephalohematoma in itself is benign. The trapped blood cells break down and the component parts are reabsorbed into the system for recycling or disposal. The heme becomes bilirubin, the iron is recycled into new red blood cells. Calcium is deposited in the resolving cephalohematoma, especially around the edge where the dura mater has been lifted up. As the swelling begins to resolve, you will feel a distinct hard ridge around the edge of the swelling, with a soft, balloon-like center.
Eventually, the entire remaining mass of the cephalohematoma becomes hard and calcified, and then it too is reabsorbed and disappears. Within a few months there will be no physical or xray detectable trace of the swelling.
What I'm observing with his head goes right along with this information. We have seen a slight reduction in the size of the hematoma, but not significant. Shortly after I read this information, I was able to feel a calcified ridge around the edges. At first, it was just one little area on the back side. Two days later, I could feel a ridge that ran completely around the edges of the lump. My midwife confirmed with another professional, and it could take 6 weeks to even 3 months on average for it to go away, but while it's unattractive, it's also completely benign. Thank goodness for hat season being upon us!After all the exams and cleaning up was done, it was about 4:30am. Midwives said goodbye, kids were in bed (and finally asleep), and we turned off the lights and went to sleep, ourselves. Baby continued to not be very interested in nursing, which made me a little nervous, but it was nice to go to sleep. Finally. (The night before when my water started leaking, I hadn't been able to fall asleep until at least 1am because of heartburn, then I was up at 7am to get the kids to school, and of course didn't nap that whole day because I was in labor... and while Jesse went to sleep when we "gave up" on labor happening, I finally had contractions, and so yeah... I was more than ready for sleep by 4:30am!)
The whole first day or so, I still didn't feel like he was nursing well. I'm used to my kids latching on and wanting to stay latched on for a long, long, time. When he latched, it just seemed lazy and uninterested, and only lasted a very short time. Somehow still, my milk managed to come in within 2 days, and then finally he seemed interested in nursing... though, still less than I was used to. We had a weigh-in after just a couple days because I was concerned, and he had dropped down to 8lb 1oz, which was well within the range of normal. He was back up to his birth weight at 3 days. When we checked again 4 days later (1 week old), he was up to 9lb 1oz! At his 2-week check, he was 9lb 8oz, and slight yellowing from typical jaundice was already improving. Growing well. :)
We've had just a couple rough nights out of 2.5 weeks, and thank goodness I've had people already in place to take care of my kids on the days following those, so I could catch up on sleep one he finally passed out.
Oh, and the name? The name! We spent months talking about a name. I really wanted something a little more unique this time. I dislike that when I picked Jacob's name, it was halfway because I never personally knew a Jacob growing up, and had only met one as a young adult. Nice solid name, but not too common. After we named him, I discovered that it had been the #1 boys name for 6 years running. And has been in the top 10 ever since. I now know a lot of little Jacobs, and there's even another one in his 1st grade class. Joy. And I picked Alex as another strong, less common boys name. Only, it's getting more common. Not super common, but still more than I'm happy with. So I really wanted something a lot more outside the norm. I gave Jesse half a million ideas, and he would never even halfway commit to any of them. Not one!!! Eventually, I did something I never had done before - I gave up and decided I'd wait until after he was born, and figure it out then. Then, the Sunday before he was born, Jesse sat down at the table to eat a snack, and out of the blue said, "I think I like Malcolm". I about died of shock, honestly! After months of not agreeing to anything, not volunteering any names on his own, and out of the blue, he just randomly tells me a name he suddenly likes!! It wasn't my favorite at the time, but I had no objections to the name itself (and of course, being a Nathan Fillion fan, like the little nod to his character Malcolm from the Firefly TV series), so it became a quick front-runner, but not definite. I let myself think about it for a few days, and started making a (giant) list of potential middle names.So when he was born, thought we'd call him Malcolm, but didn't decide for sure until after we had slept. I spent a lot of the next day working through my list of middle names, and Jesse being completely unhelpful, as expected. ;) I started just crossing off names that didn't seem quite right, and Malcolm Reed was left. I just liked the way it sounded together, no special reason. Jesse decided he didn't object, so I made it official. :)
So there you have it, Malcolm Reed Newson, born September 29th at 2:11am, in our 2-bedroom apartment. Four kids in one small space! It seems a little surreal that we now have 4 children, but at the same time, he is precious and the kids love him to death, and so do mom and dad. Even Alex, who I've been worried about having jealousy issues, has been completely in love with Malcolm, and so far has no problems at all, but just loves being a big brother. Here's to many more days, weeks, and years to our new happy family!
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| 40 weeks :) |
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| 39 weeks - the day I went into labor |
