A week ago, May 24th, 2013, our lives changed forever when our son (I can’t believe I’m writing that), Wendell Jameson Jacobs burst onto the scene weighing in at seven pounds two ounces of perfect and wonder. The labor was intense and another sobering reminder that all plans are subject to ruthless revision. But Dina was INCREDIBLE and after 36 hours, pulled us through… err, I mean pushed.
Now that he’s here with us, Jameson (we’re calling him by his middle name) is melting our hearts and kicking our butts in equal measure. Dina summed it up well for a friend who wanted to stop by:
C’mon over soon. It’s messy and raw here. Lots of crying (and not the baby so much) and zero sleep. But he’s so beautiful and wonderful. His name is Wendell Jameson Jacobs. And we’re calling him Jameson (when we manage to not call him swisher).
Erik and I are flat-out flat out. Baffled at how children happen and survive to independence. And how parents survive. And we’re apprehensive about the move west soon. And, and, and.
We’d love to see you regardless. Honestly, there is no good time. Whenever you come, I will likely be naked, or nearly naked, crying or just having finished crying, and Jameson will be contentedly sleeping, eating or peeing.
But slowly we seem to be figuring things out. After a scant 16 hours of sleep during the first five days, we got a glorious five hours last night (not in a row, mind you). And we seem to have figured out how to keep most of his pee inside his diaper and off the walls of his nursery. These tiny victories are carrying us these days as we marvel at how a seven-pound person can upend two adults’ lives so completely.
We’ll be traveling to the farm next weekend to put some twigs into a summer’s nest for our new family. Given that we’re barely able too feed ourselves these days without ready-made meals from friends and family (thank you, friends and family!), I can’t wrap my head around how I’m actually going to transition back to farming once we’re there.
But in between all of our crying, new-parent amnesia and bewilderment, there is Jameson’s stoic slate-grey gaze. When we’re lost in it, everything somehow feels manageable.
Here are some photos from his first week of life.