June 9, 1999: Our alarm clock went off at exactly 5:00 a.m., as I was expected at the hospital for my pre-scheduled delivery at 6:00 a.m. As my first pregnancy was incredibly healthy and uneventful with the exception of gestational diabetes, my OB/GYN did not want me going a single hour past my due date.
I remember dying for a cup of coffee, but had been told no food or drink after midnight. I kept walking through our house, remembering something my mom said about how strange it was to come home from the hospital for the first time with this little stranger who would change your life forever.
We arrived fashionably late to the hospital, as it was my theory they couldn’t technically start without me anyway. Within minutes of arrival, I was dressed in a fashion-forward hospital gown and hooked up to an IV and some contraction measuring machine which Jim was having way too much fun playing with the readout tape. “Wow, do you feel THAT one? It’s huge!”
Within an hour of arriving, my doctor made the surprise discovery that in the past seventy-two hours Jordan had rotated and was now presenting breach: A new team was transferred to our room and an emergency C-section was scheduled. A flurry of activity and four hours later, Jordan Alexandra Dralle made her world debut at 12:13 p.m. at Edward Hospital.
Flash forward twelve years and for some strange reason I was awake just after five this morning, watching the storm and trying to grasp the fact that Jordan was turning twelve in a few hours. I crawled quietly into bed with her and watched her sleep, dumbfounded at how much space her five-foot frame occupied the bed, remembering a time when she barely filled a car seat.
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| Our Baby Girl ... |
Jordan awoke high on birthday joy and stayed there all day: Armed with birthday money and gift cards, we bundled up and hit the mall, shared lunch and gorged ourselves on Baker’s Square pie and funny stories about French fries, prowled the aisles of JoAnn Fabrics for Jordan’s new pillow covers and bedroom accessories, read birthday wishes on Facebook and enjoyed a roaring rendition of “Happy Birthday” sung by Grandma Sandy and Grandpa Bobby on the phone, and ended the evening with dinner at Jordan’s favorite restaurant.
Birthday booty included all things pre-teen: Graphic tees, blindingly-neon tank tops, enough body washes to remain scented through Christmas, and the OMG of the day, crackle nail polish in both hot pink and blueberry blue. The sweetest part of the day was the graciousness and gratitude she shared with every gift and every happy moment together.
While I was pregnant with Jordan, and during the first year of her life, Natalie Merchant’s song “Wonder” always seemed to play when we were in the car together. The lyrics became her theme song of sorts, and I’ll be damned if the song didn’t play on the radio today when we were alone together:
“I believe, fate smiled and destiny. Laughed as she came to my cradle, know this child will be able. Laughed as my body she lifted, know this child will be gifted. With love, with patience, and with faith, she'll make her way."
As I shared the song’s story with Jordan and wiped away a stray tear or two from my eyes, I realized she was doing the same. Our time together, as enjoyable as it was, was passing much too fast.
Happy Birthday, my wonder girl.
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