My Father’s Memories of my Birth
(For Kai Fletcher Jupiter Blue Moon Jackson’s Baby Book)
I will never forget your birth, Kai, and I’m going to tell you what I remember about those 35 hours–the happiest, scariest, most exciting, most exhausting hours I have passed so far in this life. But first I have to tell you two very important things. If you want to stop the rain, draw an upside-down turtle on the ground. If you spend a lot of time outdoors, this trick will come in handy. It has served me well. Second, your name–Kai Fletcher Jackson is a very good name, but you have a second name–Jupiter Blue Moon Jackson. This is your wizard name and it is also a very good name. Jupiter is the protector of the earth and king of Gods and has many other powerful and significant connotations and meanings. I’ll look them up and print them out and put the print-out in this baby book. And, of course, you were born on the blue moon, the second full moon of the month, a phenomenon that only happens every three years or so. I think this means that you will live a long, long time since you will only have a true birthday every three years. (Don’t worry, we will still celebrate your birthday every year.) Feel free to use your wizard name as much as you like, but only reveal it to your best friends.
Now that I’ve gotten out the very important stuff, the secrets, let me tell you about your birth.
Two days before you were born, I was climbing up at the Frying Pan crag above Basalt with Lathrop, Alison, Josh, Mado and a bunch of other friends and we noticed a strange rainbow, a straight rainbow that stretched horizontally across the entire sky. I had never seen a rainbow like that and neither had anyone else at the crag and we all remarked on it--the strangeness and the beauty of it. And as we watched, the rainbow shrank, the ends disappeared and the colors concentrated until all that was left was a small swatch of bright rainbow color surrounded by swirling clouds. As I looked at that lucent button in the sky, I thought of you–-how you were like the rainbow surrounded by the clouds of amniotic fluid in your Momma’s belly. And I thought about the Tibetan belief that the birth of reincarnated Lamas was foreshadowed by the appearance of rainbows. The next night, the day before you were born, your momma dreamed that she was painting a giant Quetzal, the sign of Mayan royalty. Both rainbows and quetzals have many more meanings and we will look them up together one day when you are older.
Those are two auspicious signs that preceded your birth and, furthermore, it is the year of the golden pig, that only occurs once every 600 years in the Chinese zodiac. People born this year are supposed to be lucky and rich. (Don’t forget to share with everyone, especially those people who really need your help...)
Your momma had a dream the day before we found out that she was pregnant that she was at a birthing center and that she had delivered a baby boy so from the beginning she felt pretty sure that she was carrying a boy. When she talked about you, she called you "he" and "him." How did she know? I think she is magic. She also predicted a few weeks before your due date (June 5) that you would be born on Thursday, May 31, the day of the blue moon. You will soon find out that when your Momma predicts things, they usually come to pass, so I was very surprised when she informed me on Tuesday, May 29, at 6 pm that she was experiencing contractions. By 10 pm, her contractions were very strong and less than five minutes apart, and at 2 am on Wednesday morning we called George, our Dula, a retired midwife, friend to Momma and very wise woman. She came to our house and checked your Momma and found that she wasn’t ready to go to the hospital and we all tried to sleep.
But we couldn’t sleep. Your Momma’s contractions were close together and we were very excited to meet you.
The next day the contractions continued but she didn’t seem to be getting ready to give birth. We went to our first house in Carbondale, Peter Nichol’s cabin on the Roaring Fork river and walked along the river and down the bike path, which at that time was still only a path of cinders. Finally, at 5:30 pm on Wednesday, May 30, we drove to the birthing center. We thought that we would soon see our baby, you, but your Momma still wasn’t ready to push you out and at 8:30 pm your Unchi (Lakota for grandmother) arrived. She had driven all the way from North Carolina to see you be born. She also was excited to see your Momma’s big belly.
We were all very eager to meet you, but the midwife, Joy Kor and George continued to check your Momma and they were surprised to find each time, hour after hour, that she still was not open enough to push you out into the world.
Your Momma was quiet. She walked and sat on a ball and did a funny little squat/dance around the room. She was completely focused in such a beautiful way on birthing you, but each time they checked her they found that she wasn’t ready to push you out and she became a little more frustrated. She cried a tiny bit and asked what more she could do. We were all very worried. Then your Unchi’s phone rang. It played a really loud marimba or salsa tune , George danced and we all smiled.
Midnight came and we all talked and laughed about the fact that your Momma was right again. It was Thursday, May 31, the day of the blue moon. By now, your Momma was so tired. She was falling asleep between her contractions and so were we–Unchi, George, me. We all could barely keep our heads up.
At one point, your Momma decided to take a shower and when she came out of the shower, her contractions had become quieter. I could see that George and Joy were worried. They decided to check your heart with a monitor and when they did, the numbers on the monitor scared them. They told us that they might have to cut you out. When I talked to them outside, away from your Momma and Unchi they said you might be sick.
At that moment, my sweet boy, I was more afraid than I have ever been before. None of the scary climbs or mountains that I have climbed have ever scared me like the idea that my baby might be born sick or that his mother, my dear wife, might have to be cut open. I thought of all the people who had sick babies and I was sad for them. I thought about how difficult it would be for your mother and me. I felt like crying, but I couldn’t. I decided that all I could do was to stay with your Momma and encourage her to stay strong and positive and not give up. So I went back into the room, carrying my deep worry inside me like a belly-ache.
In most cases, they would have brought your mother to surgery and cut you out, but Joy and George are very special women. They were able to put their fingers inside of your Momma and push her open. I sat behind your mother, and after 34 hours of hard labor she found the strength to push your head past the lip inside her. They adjusted the heart monitor and found that the initial low reading had been a mistake. Your heart wasn’t weak, it was strong. It sounded like a galloping horse. I saw Joy smile and I felt so much better. She said, "This little baby is strong. This baby is a trooper."
Unchi held one leg of your momma and the nurse held the other leg and I reached forward and held both legs and your Momma pushed HARD. They had placed a mirror in front of us so that we could watch you come out. First we saw the top of your head. It was covered in curly brown hair! Your Momma pushed and pushed. Her legs were so tired they quivered. I could not understand where she was finding the strength after so many hours of hard labor. My eyes filled with tears in wonder at the miracle. Your head came out. In one motion Joy pulled the cord from around your neck and pulled your body free. Your Momma was so tired that she didn’t realize that she had pushed you all the way out and when Joy placed you on your Momma’s belly, your momma said, "Holy shit, what is that!"
"That’s your baby, darlin’," I said. "That’s our family."
You put both of your unusually big hands on your Momma’s chest and pushed yourself up. You craned your head back and opened your left eye and you looked around at the world. Both midwifes said they had never seen a baby do that. Right out of the womb you were strong, Kai.
Another memorable moment was when the nurse checked you out and you got an erection.
"That’s my boy," I said.
One day I hope you will be there as your partner gives birth to our grandbaby. Here’s a few things nobody told me. Birth is very messy. There’s lots of fluid leaking out and blood and poop and pee. Don’t worry about it, but also don’t walk around the room in your socks. The woman looks like she is hurting and happy at the same time, which is a little weird. And don’t worry if it takes a long, long time for the baby to come, because there is a strength inside of women that we can only imagine. Your job is to watch and stay out of the way. Remind her that you love her and if the going gets tough, talk to her body. Remind the cervix to open and tell the baby that it’s time to come out. You are the Papa and sometimes you got to step up and help out.
Kai, I am so very happy that you are here with us now. That you are healthy and well. I think that your mother’s hard labor was a price we had to pay for such a miracle to enter our lives. Nothing is free, my son. This world always balances its gifts with hardship. This is a universal law. And I’m happy now that we were able to give a little extra suffering and worry to the universe in return for this most amazing gift. It grew my heart so much by adding the compost of compassion for others who have worried for their wives and babies. I feel like it ushered me into parenthood a little more seasoned than I would have been had your birth been an easy one. I’m wiser and twice as grateful and my love for you is that much deeper. As high as a rainbow, as deep as the sea. One of the meanings of Kai is the sea and now when I think of the ocean, the deepest green waters on earth, I will remember that long night and day and night and think of my love for you, my son. I love you, Kai.
Your Papa
June 2, 2007