Jonny’s Birth Story

Um.. Well.

So, yeah. It’s been awhile.. Hmm.

*blush*

ANYWAYS.

Since we last spoke, this happened:

Very, very pregnant

..and it went on like that for another 7 days.

On June 29th, I was having real, live contractions, but refused to believe in them due to the fact that I was 5 days over due and convinced that I would not, in fact, be giving birth at all. I went to bed figuring that if the contractions they really meant business, they would have to wake me up and convince me.

The next morning (June 30th) I woke up around 7am with what could only be described as shotgun-explosion-contractions but they only lasted about 15 seconds, so I dug my heels into my denial and sent J.D. to work, promising that I would call at the first “real” sign of “labor” (complete with the sarcastic finger-quotes).

At around 9am, I called my midwife to check in and tell her about the not-labor pains I was having and beg for another pep-talk; I was determined to have a natural labor but was quickly loosing faith that my body even worked that way. She’ been talking me off the please-for-the-love-of-God-just-break-my-water ledge on a daily basis. Fortunately, she is well trained in crazy-pregnant-woman and convinced me to drop by the birthing center “just to be sure”.

Since I was positive that I was not in labor and incredibly annoyed that anyone would have the nerve to think that I was (I am a *peach* when I’m 41 weeks pregnant), I left Billy in charge of the younger kids and had my mother drive me and Jack to the birthing center.

At 10am, my midwife, Jean, told me that she had a pretty good feeling that I would be having a baby that day, and that I should call J.D. – I disagreed and said I wanted to go back home. After much moaning and groaning, I finally compromised – mom and Jack and I would go walk around for an hour and come back – if there was any changes, I would stay and if not, I could go home. I called J.D. at work and told him to start meandering toward the birthing center, but not to hurry.

20 minutes into my hour of walking, my short, bursting contractions turned into real-live, HANG.ON.CAN’T.WALK.MIGHT.DIE contractions, so we started to make our way back to the center. Somewhere in there, I called J.D., and told him to go get the kids where they needed to be, (T & V would still have to go to their moms’ and but B & B would have to come to the center, where they and Jack would go to my moms)  but still told him not to hurry.

Exhibit A: Red Light Camera... He hurried.

As soon as we got back to the center, Jean checked me and said I was at a 6 and that I wasn’t going anywhere.

This is where things really got moving.

Jean said I should go ahead and get into my comfortable clothes and start to try to do some relaxation breathing while mom went out to the car to bring in my stuff and called J.D. again.

I went from denial to ready-to-push in a matter of minutes – but I was still determined to wait for J.D. to get there. All I could think of was ‘he already almost missed this’ and I was getting panicky at the thought of doing it without him.

When Jean came back into the room, she knew by looking at me that we were out of time and moved the birthing ball to the bed – I draped my top half over it just as my water broke.

Just as Jean started telling me that I was going to have to stop trying to hold back the urge to push, J.D. came flying into the room yelling “I’M HERE-I’M HERE-IT’S-OK-I-MADE-IT-I’M-HERE!”

And (very) shortly after that, so was Jonny.

Jonathan Jude Darley - Born June 30th, 2010

All 10 pounds and 22 inches of him.

I saw it coming for miles

I saw it coming for miles
but I couldn’t stand moving my feet.

I saw you moving in on me
but I refused to give up my seat
as if I was craving the blow
I simply sat waiting on you.

I simply sat needing your rage
I simply sat loving the cage
I knew that the storm was approaching
but I sat at my open door.

Your wrath rained down like thunder
and I simply sat asking for more.

I needed your anger to fill me
I begged for your wrong to feel right
but you pushed in on my walls of submission
and crushed my desire to fight.

atrocity

It is an absolute atrocity
the way your absence
seems to never appease me.

All I can be expected to need from you
is your void and the relief at your leaving.

But nevertheless I am left with disgrace
at the thought that I wait just to grieve you.

It is a motionless mess I am left in
when your carelessness washes away
and you suddenly breeze in and look withering
and helpless beneath your own ways.

I cannot be your keeper or conqueror
or a picture of what you deserve
I cannot sit and watch you destroy
every reason I have to still need you.

scapegoat

I watch you slip off with your scapegoat
pushing past your limits still.

I watch you drive into delusion
breezing past your bleeding will.

You’re running faster into famine
wonder why you fall so fast
wonder why you can’t remember
wonder why you’re still awake
wonder why the walls around you
fill with trash and seem to shake.

Wonder why you sit inside yourself
and let the hours slide down your face.
wonder why you cant just leave
wonder just what makes you need this place.
wonder where your next step leads
and if your feet will take you there
wonder how you’ll get back home
wonder why you still don’t care.

Running With Scissors Since 2008

We met almost 4 years ago and I was instantly annoyed.

He was a slacker and I was in junior management. He wore khaki shorts to work with a t-shirt that said ‘Hate Me’ across the front and wouldn’t stop spinning around in his chair; I would not be seen without full makeup, heals and business-casual appropriate attire. I wanted a promotion and he wanted to hang out in the cafeteria eating sausage wraps. I said things like “I would like to hear more empathy on your calls with customers, and you’ll need to personalize each call by saying your customers’ name at least 3 times before you deliver a professional closing” to which he would whip off his headset and reply “did you just say that you think I’m totally hot?”.

Eventually, he was handed a management position and was sharing a desk with me. One day, I was explaining to him the importance of always saving his emails in a special folder and making triplicate copies of every written form that his direct reports had signed, and he was busily hitting DELETE DELETE DELETE on his inbox and saying “Yeah! Uh-huh! Yes!! Oh! Mm-hmm!”. I had gotten quite used to this. I reminded him that it was almost time for the management meeting in which we would share the cookies we were all required to make the night before at which time he immediately grabbed his plate of cookies and ran. I had gotten pretty used to this too but was in no mood to be defeated again. I grabbed my plate of cookies, tucked them under my arm and headed for the other door at a sprint.

Now, the building we worked in housed about 1500 employees – all of which were now slowly standing up one by one, trying to find out who was blowing by their cubicles, screaming maniacal phrases including “NOT THIS TIME!! YOU WILL NOT WIN THIS TIME DAMMIT!!” and “DID YOU JUST LOOK AT MY PACKAGE??”.

Although he’ll probably tell you differently (he’ll be lying), I won. But most importantly, it was one of the many moments that made it glaringly apparent to me that I couldn’t spend one minute of my life without this man.

We got married two years after we met, and tomorrow will be our two year anniversary. Sometimes its hard to believe it’s already been two years, and then sometimes its hard to think that he hasn’t been by my side for my whole life, cheering me on and pulling me through, like he does now.

Who knew that the same guy that insisted on teaching  me, loudly, how to properly dance the Sharks vs. Jets fight scene from West Side Story in front of our entire department, would be the same guy that taught me the meaning of beauty and grace. Who knew this was the man that would give me every single thing I ever wanted or needed – and then more? Who knew he’d be my every single thing? Who knew that?

She

She was addicted, afflicted, affected and infected in all of the most horrible ways. 

She took pills and shots and liquids and concoctions that she kept in boxes that she got from drug stores where pharmacists called her by name and smiled when she slurred. 

She ached and she quivered and she shook at the thought of running low. 

She protected her collection like a thief – constantly cautious of those who would step in and try to ‘save’ her from herself.

panic

Fifteen misconceptions
in fourteen seconds of day

eighty-five new malformations
in one new lump of clay

ten stiff worried fingers
type ten-thousand nonsense words

while brand new nervous earthquakes
find homes in just-born verbs.

The Missing Pieces

I thought I would update you all and clear up some missing pieces..

It was Don that called me that morning – JDs boss. All of JDs co-workers started calling in late and when one finally said to Don that she was late because she was stuck behind a wreck – it all clicked. JD was late and not answering his phone and that was just not like him.. if someone was in a wreck on the road to his work, it was probably him. Don sent one of them to find out what the car looked like that was involved in the accident and get back to him, but she called him back and said the officer on-site wouldn’t let her near it. He told her only that this was ‘not yet classified as a fatality accident’ and that the driver of the car involved was being taken to Brackenridge. Don left work to see for himself and that’s when he called me.

The hospital social worker that called met me at the front desk and again told me to stay calm and to breathe. She just kept saying that JDs injuries were ‘very serious but not life-threatening’ (a phrase that became increasingly confusing each time I heard it) but that we couldn’t see him until they were done stitching up his head.. she put us in a room to wait and said that she would come in soon and explain his ‘very serious’ injuries.

Eventually, she came back and blurted out a whole bunch of information that sounded like a big math problem: a clean break in C2 along with several small fractures in the same bone; fractures in T5 and T8; with most of the ribs on his right side broken and a head wound that required 21 stitches. I felt major panic that none of this would ever make sense and that I was going to miss something important because my brain was going a million miles a second and I didn’t know what any of that meant. The diagnosis in layman’s terms is that he broke his neck, back and ribs and cut his head open. There were several times that I thought I wished she had said it that way, but its probably a good thing she didn’t – I still can’t say that all out loud without getting a lump in my throat.

  

JD was in the hospital for 10 days – they initially put him in a TLSO brace and said he would stay in it anytime he was sitting up or standing; anytime he was laying down, I could take it off of him and he could wear a neck brace.

At JDs 2 week appointment, the doctor had ordered another set of xrays, and immediately sent him to get a CT scan. He called the next morning and said that he was referring him to a spine specialist because the break had shifted in such a way that he wanted more assistance from an expert.. within a few hours he had an appointment to meet with a neurosurgeon the next morning to be fitted for a halo brace in order to take away all mobility from his neck.

JD has been in the halo now for 2 weeks and has been told to expect to keep in on for 2-3 months. It is big, bulky, awkward and painful at times, but will keep his spinal column safe and the bone immobile for long enough to hopefully fuse it back together. It’s a wait-and-see game for now, but we do have a great neurosurgeon and a bigger-than-we-knew support system, and things certainly could be worse.

He’s my hero. He’s the strongest and bravest person I know. He has been the brightest spot in my life since the day I met him and this has only made him brighter.

Thank you all for your prayers and well-wishes and love. I had no idea so many people could come out of nowhere with exactly the right words that we needed, exactly when we needed them.

"I Just Know That He's Still Alive"

As dramatic as it sounds to say, I guess our whole lives changed on Thursday, January 7th, 2010 at approximately 6:26am.

Just like every other morning, JD kissed me goodbye while I was half asleep and reminded me of such-and-such that had to get done/paid/resolved that day and I murmured a half-hearted “mmhmm-I know-mmkay-loveyoutoobye”. I got up, got the kids off to their respective bus stops, and was making coffee when my phone rang.

“JD’S BEEN IN AN ACCIDENT-YOU HAVE TO GO TO BRACKENRIDGE NOW”. My first thought was not, I guess, what one would expect, but instead “What an asshole. What an awful thing to say to someone”. I almost hung up. “ARE YOU THERE? HE’S BEEN IN AN ACCIDENT AND THEY ARE TAKING HIM TO BRACKENRIDGE. YOU HAVE TO GET THERE NOW. I’LL BE THERE WHEN YOU GET THERE. GO NOW.”

“Is he ok? What? What accident? Is he ok??” .. “UM. I JUST KNOW THAT HE’S STILL ALIVE”.

Everything goes a little fuzzy after that. I know that I hit my knees. I know that I prayed and begged and pleaded and bargained with God in a way I never have before. I know that it did occur to me that people don’t go from Manor, Texas all the way to the Trauma Center at Brackenridge Hospital in downtown Austin, bypassing several hospitals along the way, unless there is a major problem. I know that for some reason, I felt selfish -but didn’t care- when all I could say out loud, over and over was “Please God Please please don’t take him from me – please don’t take him from me please”. I was in Jack’s room, looking for socks for his feet when I realized I had no idea how to ‘get to Brackenridge’ and called my mother – and that’s when I realized that I was sobbing. I don’t know what I said to my mom when she answered, or what she said back to me, but when I knew she was on her way, I know that I sat down on Jacks floor and concentrated on breathing and praying and counting his socks over and over.. for some reason, I remember that I simply couldn’t make sense of them.

At some point before mom got to me, the social worker from the hospital called and said “Mrs. Darley, I need you to breathe – in your nose and out your mouth. I’m with your husband and I’m going to tell you about his condition, but I need you to stay with me”. Again, my first thought was “what an awful thing to say to someone”but I did what I was told and forced air into the phone so she would just say something. She said his injuries were very serious but not life threatening, that I needed to concentrate on getting there safely, and that he was able to tell her three things: my name, my cell phone number, and that I was pregnant and going be terrified. He had also told her to tell me to “please be calm”.

One hundred years later, the social worker stepped into the family waiting room they had put us in and said, again, that while his injuries were not life threatening, they were very serious. As she listed his injuries in doctor-speak, I struggled to follow the meaning – I just wanted her to say “and he’s going to be just fine” but she didn’t. I zeroed in on her words just long enough to hear her say that I would be allowed in to see him as soon as they finished something-rather. It wasn’t until days later that I realized “broken neck” and “broken back” would become parts of our regular vocabulary.

There are weird things that stamp themselves on your heart during surreal experiences like these. The site of JD’s boss, who was the one that called me, wiping tears from his eyes as quick as he could before he thought I saw him. The site of his dad, looking down at the threshold at the doors of the ER – pausing to take deep breath and then holding it as he  stepped through. And when they let me in to see him, as broken and hurting as he was, it was the site of tiny droplets of blood hanging on to his eyelashes that I can’t let go of. I can’t put logic on that part. I don’t know why that vision still makes my heart cave in. I know that there have been several times over the last 10 days though, that I have run a finger over his lashes and thanked God with every inch of my soul for letting me keep them.

He is, eventually, “going to be just fine”. He has more broken bones than we’ve been able to count, has more bruises than one body should have to hold, and is carrying around a body brace that no-one should be subjected to – but he, after all, is alive – and that’s what counts right now.