Christmas Parade

For several years, I've said half-jokingly that I'm "the first man."  Some might call me "Mr. White."  In fact, I have been called "Mr. White."  More than once and deservedly so, given that my wife is rather accomplished and well thought of in certain circles.  Top 40 Under 40, Athena Award nominee (and she should have won, too), Nashville Bar Association board member, etc.

Most recently, Jude accepted a position as Director of the Governor's Cabinet for Children, in which she will be working closely with the first lady, Chrissie Haslam.  That's in addition to her job with Mayor Dean's office.  Okay, so you can see where this is going.  My wife's an accomplished lady.  Not only is she the smartest person I know, she's the best person I know.

Last Friday evening, through her job Mayor Dean's office, Jude, J.P. and I got ride in the Nashville Christmas Parade with a couple of her friends and their families.  Any by ride in the parade, I mean we rode in the front of the parade in a vintage 1950's fire engine, open air, waving to people in downtown Nashville all along the parade route.  It was crazy!  Mayor Dean and the Commissioner of the Fire Department walked along behind us.

At one point, I leaned over to Jude and told her I understood how Miss Tennessee feels (waving to all of my adoring fans).  I'm not sure that analogy works, but still.

The best part is J.P. has an absolute blast.  We brought his noise reducing headphones (endorse by Drew Brees, no less), which was key as the fire engine behind us blasted its sirens for most of the ride.  He was oblivious to the noise, happily staring over the edge of the fire engine and waving to the throngs of people stacked 4 and 5 deep along the parade route, a smile on his face.

It was a top 10 event, for sure, and an evening I'll always remember.

 

Swinging

J.P., pushing the old man on a swing at Berry Hill Park a couple of weekends ago.  Nice legs.

Groundhog Day

I'm sitting in the "crow's nest" at Bongo Java, upstairs, sipping a "mood elevator" and just trying to catch my breath.  It's 9:30 p.m. and J.P. is in bed.  Jude is down for the night and I'm almost down for the count.

We spent the morning at Baptist Hospital - again - before getting released to come home early this afternoon.  Although the nurses there are great, we are so happy not to have to stay overnight again.

A quick recap - this morning, as I waited in the drop-off line at Children's House, my cellphone rang and I saw it was Jude calling.  Ignoring my entreaties to stay home from work today, she planned to go to work, so I was surprised to hear from her so early.  I thought maybe I had left something at the house.  When I answered, she asked me where I was, then said "I think you need to come home."  My heart sank.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I feel dizzy and I think I might pass out," she replied.

"Are you having contractions?"  I asked.  "Yes," she said.  Shit, I thought.  Shit.  "I'll be there in a minute."

I raced home and opened the front door to find Jude in my chair, reclined, feet up, white as a sheet.  She had put a bag together in case we had to stay overnight at the hospital again and was waiting on a return call from the doctor's office.  About 9 a.m., we got tired of waiting and decided to go on to the hospital.  I packed a bag of my own, helped her down the sidewalk and into my truck.

As I started the engine and pulled away from the curb, I looked at her and said, "how fast do we need to get there?"  "Fast," she answered.  "I can handle that," I said, as I mashed the accelerator and sped up Acklen Avenue.  I weaved in and out of traffic (sorry Mom) and easily busted the speed limit (sorry Mom) as I drove down Blakemore, then cut over to West End and, finally, Church Street.  We parked in a handicapped spot in the parking garage, right by the door to triage, and walked inside.  Within minutes, we were in a triage room and being attended to by a wonderful nurse, Jennifer.

Although Jude was having contractions again, the results of a couple of tests (the details of which I will spare you) revealed it was highly unlikely she was in labor.  We also got a good, solid heartbeat on our baby immediately, which was reassuring in and of itself.  The on call doctor (Dr. Forbes) was nice enough to walk over to triage and spend some time with us.  She reviewed with us the results (which were good) of the ultrasound that was done Wednesday afternoon.  Jude was given IV fluids again, but just for a little while, and we were out of the hospital by 12:30 p.m.

It was a long day at the end of a long, stressful week.  If I had a dollar for every silent prayer I said today along, asking for Jude and our baby to be healthy and for her to carry him to term without complications, I would be a rich man.  Then again, I am a rich man.  My pregnant wife and our son, J.P., are safe at home asleep.  And we're going to have another son in a couple of months.  I'm a very rich man.

Crash

Where to begin?

Yesterday, as I was leaving work, I got the telephone call from Jude I never wanted to get.  The kind of telephone call no man wants to get when his wife is almost seven months pregnant.

"I've been in an accident," she said.  "What!?!" I replied.  "Someone rear-ended me at the intersection of Eighth Avenue and Division Street," she said.  Jude's voice was eerily calm as a thousand terrifying images flashed through my mind.  "I'm okay and the police are on the way," she continued.

Jude being Jude, she refused to ask for an ambulance to be sent to the accident scene.  I decided it wasn't worth arguing about - mostly because I knew I couldn't change her mind - and told her stay in her vehicle and that I'd be there as quickly as I could.  I cringed as I turned on to I-65 north, toward Nashville, when I saw how much traffic was on the interstate.

I called my friend, Hal Humphreys, who lives in our neighborhood.  When I told him what had happened, he said, simply, "I'm on it."  He hung up the telephone and drove straight to the accident scene which, thankfully, is only a couple of miles from our house.  Knowing Hal would arrive before me to comfort Jude, to make sure she and our baby were all right, to insist on calling an ambulance if he thought one was needed - all of that meant the world to me.  There are friends (and family) you can count on in life when disaster strikes and there are those you simply can't count on in those types of situations.  Hal would travel to the ends of the earth, no questions asked, for me or for Jude.  That's friendship.

When I finally arrived at the accident scene, I noticed the vehicles has been moved on to Division Street, out of traffic.  I got out walked up to Jude's Honda Pilot, relieved to see there was little damage to the rear.  Hal was standing next to the driver's side door and Jude was still sitting inside.  Had her vehicle been damaged or had she been visibly injured, I might have "gone Nascar" on the college student driving the Subaru Outback that had rear-ended her and started punching him through his open window. Fortunately, he was apologetic and cooperative, which may have saved him from bodily injury.  Seriously.

After the police officer finished his report, Jude drove to the hospital and I met her there.  When the triage nurse realized she was having mild, but consistent contractions, she admitted Jude to the hospital for a 24-hour stay.  Jude was dehydrated, as well, so the nurse put her on an IV to help rehydrate her.  We anxiously watched the computer screen set up to monitor our baby's heartbeat with the fetal heart monitor attached to Jude's stomach.  We also watched with some trepidation as the graph on the computer screen showed spikes that indicated Jude was having contractions.

After I went back to the house to pick up some things for Jude, we hunkered down in our room at Baptist Hospital to stay for the night.  Our nanny and friend, Carley Meade, and her husband, Jon, stayed at our house with J.P.  Like Hal, Carley and Jon are friends we can count on, no doubt.  It was a long night, as you might imagine, and neither of us got much sleep.  Jude's nurse came into our room regularly throughout the night and, frankly, hospitals just aren't very quiet.

By this morning, the contractions had stopped or were few and far between, thank God (and I did a lot of thanking God, during the night).  Our doctor and friend, Roseann Maikis, told me she wanted Jude to stay in the hospital for 24 hours, which meant she could leave at 7 p.m. tonight.  As I write this, Jude is upstairs, asleep (probably) and glad to be home.  She's not as glad to be home as J.P. and I are to have her home.

My wife is a walking contradiction.  She's the strongest person I know, the only person I know, in fact, that I would put in my mother's class in terms of inner strength.  And that's saying something.  And, yet, she's so tender, so gentle and motherly with J.P. - it's amazing to see it.  She's a force of nature.  I love her and I don't know what I would do without her.  

The magic Christmas ornament box.

Just because I love J.P.'s "funny face."

Christmas Time

Last weekend, the Friday after Thanksgiving, Jude, J.P. and I got our Christmas tree.  At halftime of the Tennessee-Kentucky game (UT's first loss to UK in 26 years, but that's another sad, sad story), Jude's dad, Jim, and I brought the Christmas tree in and put it in the stand.  That in itself was a much more enjoyable experience than normal, since Jude and I usually struggle to put the tree up, especially with J.P. underfoot.

J.P. was dead set on decorating the Christmas tree Saturday, so much so that he was really, really pissed when we told him we'd do to it Sunday.  Needless to say, he was ecstatic when I brought the box of Christmas ornaments up from the basement Sunday afternoon, after church.  I had forgotten how much he enjoyed getting the ornaments out of the box and handing them to us last year.  This time around, he was bouncing up and down and waving his hands as we opened up the box of ornaments.  He couldn't wait to fine his favorite ornament - a "Smokey" figurine (UT's mascot).  

One by one, he took the ornaments out of the box and hung them carefully on the Christmas, mostly in the same spot on a low hanging branch.  Within a few minutes, the branch in question was almost touching the ground, loaded down with all of his favorite ornaments (including Smokey).  When we finished decorating the tree, J.P. laid down on the floor, on his stomach, and just stared at the Smokey ornament.  Jude and I looked at each other and laughed.

Later, after his nap, we unpacked our other boxes of Christmas decorations.  Again, J.P. really got a kick out of lifting each decoration out of the box, smiling in wonderment each time.  It really made me appreciate Christmas even more to see him so excited to decorate the tree and the house.