First off, let me say: If your beloved wife is expecting a baby, and she is sick. It’s real. Even today, after all these years, I admire women who can be pregnant and carry on with daily life. I salute them because it is not always pretty.
Our first child was born in August. I see that as a great accomplishment—it took a lot of hard work.
Pregnancy did not come easily and when it did, we were ignorant of the signs. Cooking sausage flipped me every morning with nausea staying for the day. Our toddler nephew leaning against my chest brought pain.
This was during our Navy years. My husband Dave returned from his class telling me his peers diagnosis for my ailment. He promptly marched me into the medic office to confirm what was obvious to everyone but us.
In the military, all dependents are identified by the Social Security number of the enlisted. Praise the Lord for that! My first name was not on their records, likewise my age was incorrect. We confirmed my last name with his social number determining I was me and expecting his child.
We could not have been less prepared. The first several months I was pretty much bedridden, never far from the restroom. Pepto Bismal was my lifeblood. When I could finally keep food down, I gained too much weight. A new diagnosis became apparent—Toxemia Pregnancy. In my final month I needed help getting dressed, my feet felt as though I were walking on bowling balls.
It was the day before our due date that I could not stand up straight. Dave drove me the twenty miles to the hospital at Great Lakes Naval Air Station. Doctors poked and prodded, informing me the baby was coming soon. “Go home. By the way, it’s possible you are having twins.”
Mentally I screamed you are just now making that determination? My size being an indicator. That afternoon, I called my husband to take me back to the hospital; labor was present.
It’s a boy!
Unfortunately, my milk was not coming. Little did I know breasts must be prepared months in advance. Did I mention how little we knew and completely clueless on parenting? My folks came to help, and what a help Mom was! She bottle fed little Jamie and the infant gobbled that bottle. It marked the end of breastfeeding.
In those early months, I made several trips to the pediatrician. Dave telling me, “You can’t keep running to the doctor for every little thing.”
My response, “If our son needs medical care, he’s going to get it!” What I marvel at is Jesus giving a child to parents who know nothing. What is even more amazing is the children survive!
Years later, Jamie provided us his wife, with an August birthday. Reason two to celebrate!
One Day Wonders with JBK 