August 3, 1997, that is the day Jack came into the world and set us on a course that would at times bring me to the edge.
I would like to say his deliver was ordinary, nothing remarkable. Nothing would be further than the truth. I was past my due date so my doctor brought me in to be induced. A snobby resident from California started the Petocin. I have learned that if you are going to deliver your child at a one of the best teaching hospitals in the country you are going to have to learn to put up with overly confident residents and everyone coming in and out of your room, I do mean everyone.
So Miss San Fran got everything started and then did a sonogram to see "how far down the head was". Well it was not down, not down at all, Jack had turned in the last three days and was breach. I started crying, the last thing I wanted was a C section. In walked my doctor (who I loved). She asked me the following: Have you had anything to eat? No. Drink? Yes Coffee. Cream in your coffee? Do they serve it any other way?
She left the room, came back with the perky resident and said "We are gonna flip him" Then she asked Miss San Fran if she wanted the head or the butt. It was something right out of Alien, watching them flip him. But it worked. They flipped him and one hour later, bruised and battered, Jack came into the world.
He was just a lamb of a child and I adored him from the start. If you have read my blog the beginning months were difficult. Jack was sick and his diagnosis took a blow to my family.
Within a year, Jack was this blonde ball of energy. There were times I was convinced he had some battery back, he was always on the move. Jack did not limit this to our yard or even, like most children, within view. We lost Jack everywhere, Disneyland, Malibu Beach, The Westchester Mall, there was even a lock down at Khols. He was fearless and curious and nothing was going to stop him.
The only thing that stopped Jack was the Hospital. And his only question for the Doctors during his stay "When will I be able to get back to the skate park?"
So many people have said that Jack is lucky to have me. But quite honestly, I am the lucky one. He has taught me how to live life and live it well.
So it is your birthday my beautiful boy. You are fourteen years old. I remember when you were diagnosed, Dr. Quittell told me many children with CF were making it to their eighteen birthday and going to college. It brought me to tears then. If that were still true, that was all the time I might have left with you, that would bring me to my knees now.
Much has changed during your lifetime my darling boy. There has been so much progress and mothers are being told a very different story when their children are diagnosed. This wonderful progress is the result of the kindness of others, every dollar raised, every dollar donated gives me more time with you. I will never be able to thank the generous people who make your life possible, but I carry them in my heart with you.
I once told by your lung doctor, after she had had enough of my endless calls, I will call you when there is a cure. As I have said before, I am still waiting for my call and I know in my heart I may never get it. But someday a mother will get her call and this fight will be over and we will have won.
Happy Birthday my Beautiful boy and to my dream of many more.