There’s nothing like being a mom. Yes, I had taught hundreds of students by the time Paul was born. And yes, I told each one i “adopted” them once they were in my class. I always called them “my kids,” and in later years, they called me “Mama J.” But until this day, forty years ago, I never knew the realities of motherhood personally. It changed my life, for sure, and when Nancy arrived eighteen months later, I knew that joy double time!
Nothing about Paul’s birthday was “normal.” I began labor the night before, and about five in the morning, recognized it was time to head for the hospital. Then we heard a commotion and realized that my mother-in-law had fallen in their bathroom. My dear husband, just home from emergency gall bladder surgery, was cautioned to not lift anything heavier than ten pounds. So I, in labor, lifted her to a chair, realized she had broken her ankle, and called a dear couple we knew to come and help us. John Smith had been a student of mine in my first teaching job. He and his sweet wife came, hauled Mom Jackson to the hospital. We followed.
By then I was admitted, she was admitted, and the staff of the small Hudson City Hospital had both of us in the same place my husband had been for almost two weeks earlier in the month. Together, we probably paid the bills for their good services when we counted gall bladder surgery, ankle surgery, a cesarean for me, and care of a newborn for the five days we were there.
Because my birth delivery would be in the morning, I consented to allow nursing students to observe. When, however, they broke my water, they discovered meconium, meaning the baby was stressed, and within twenty minutes, I was delivering him.
All was well, but I was frightened. I prayed my child was well. He was. All along the doctor had predicted a girl. He definitely wasn’t. Then I went through hours of no feeling in my legs from the epidural, and after what seemed like an eternity, I finally got to see my precious baby.
He was almost a leap year baby. He was the only boy in the nursery with five girls there. They called him the General, with his hearty cry and his beautiful face. Top APGAR scores, a little frown line he still has, and seven and a half pounds and twenty-one inches, he was beautiful.
As for the other part of the drama, my mother-in-law saw him before I did. She waited on a gurney for the same operating room I had been in. Had I not lifted her, the doctors told me, I probably would have delivered Paul naturally. I was just thankful for good care for all of us.
Since I was just months shy of forty, the age Paul celebrates today, I was a “high risk” mom, but I was euphoric and absolutely loved being a mom. We tried to provide plenty of stimulation for our little ones, and they have become highly competent, confident, and God-fearing adults. And now that Paul is a parent, I applaud the care and advantages he provides for our darling granddaughters Kaley and Emily.
It’s a good day to remember and give thanks.
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