Seventeen years ago this week, November 27, 1995, Ken and I were blessed with a second son. We named him Benjamin Kendrick Lunsford. We always had a hard time agreeing on boy names… could always agree on girl names. We quickly agreed that if we had a daughter, her name would be Elizabeth Grace, but as we had with Jesse, we couldn’t agree on a name for another son. After having such a difficult delivery with Jesse, I had asked Ken, “Since I went through the valley of the shadow to birth the first one, that means I get to name any others we have, right?” He agreed that I could, but later on down the road, he tried to renege on it. Holding him to his original agreement, I informed him that since our first son was named Jesse Kenneth, after Ken, if we had a second son, he would be named Benjamin Kendrick, after me. I don’t think Ken was thrilled with the name I chose, but he had several months to get used to it. I think he was a little passive-aggressive about it though, because for the first two years of Benjamin’s life, Ken only ever called him “Scooter”.
When we were expecting Jesse, we had never been able to find out if he was a girl or boy and truthfully didn’t know until the doctor announced, “It’s a boy!” on the day he was born. I was determined that it would be different the second time around. I remember going in for the ultrasound with two buttons in my hands. One said, “It’s a girl”, and the other said “It’s a boy”. I told the technician that I would NOT get off of her table until I knew which button to wear home. So, with Ken, Jesse and Sweet Pea all standing by, she had me turn every which way imaginable so she could try and let us know. She finally said, “Oh there he is! You are having a boy!” I excitedly pinned the “boy” button on my shirt. From that day forward, I always referred to him as “Benjamin” and not “the baby”.
I am always amazed at what people say sometimes. When we started announcing that we were expecting another son, several people asked me how disappointed I was that it wasn’t a girl this time. I had just found out that our baby was healthy and growing like he should… I was NOT disappointed. And I’ve always thought that all boys need a brother, so I was happy for Jesse.
The pregnancy with Benjamin was pretty uneventful. Ken and I had decided that I would stay home with the boys after he was born. I made just about enough money at the job I was working at the time to pay someone else to watch my children, but that was all. It would have been CRAZY to go back to work, just to pay someone else to raise my kids. When we decided I would be a stay-at-home-mom, Ken suggested that I just go on and quit my job so I would have a few months to spend just with Jesse. He didn’t have to tell me twice! I gave my notice the next day and stayed only long enough to train my replacement. I think I was about five months along when I quit. I didn’t go back to work until after Benjamin started kindergarten and I never ever regretted our decision.
We worried that we’d have another difficult delivery and wanted to avoid that at all costs. I asked my doctor what the odds would be that I would end up having to have another C-section. He said that since my problem with Jesse had been that I never fully dilated, the chances were high that the same thing could happen again. We decided that instead of waiting to go into labor and probably having a repeat procedure, we would just choose Benjamin’s birthday and schedule a planned C-section. That would take a lot of the worry out of the whole process. We decided on the Monday after Thanksgiving, November 27th.
I remember thinking about how busy and crazy it can get when you have a new baby, so I decided we needed to get all of our Christmas shopping/decorating/wrapping done before we went to the hospital, so I set about making sure that happened. I spent many long hours cross-stitching Benjamin’s Christmas stocking because I was determined he would have one that matched Jesse’s on his first Christmas. It was a busy time of great anticipation.
On Benjamin’s birthday, Mama came up (as usual) to look after Jesse for us. While Ken and I were bringing his little brother into the world, Jesse was helping Grandmom bake cupcakes with blue frosting to take to his preschool class. He was so excited to finally be able to wear his I’m the Big Brother shirt.
Ken and I got to the hospital bright and early on that wonderful, much longed-for Monday morning. My best friend, Jan, was going to be our labor and delivery nurse, so I knew we would be in good hands. Someone asked me if I was nervous, but I remember saying that I was more excited than nervous. Jan gave me one of those lovely hospital gowns to put on and sent me to the restroom to pee in a cup. She was going to wait and let the IV team start my IV, because she didn’t want to run the risk of hurting me, since she loved me. I guess, though, that I must have been more nervous than I realized, because all of a sudden, things sort of went a little hazy. I remember saying, “Jan, I don’t think I feel so good.” To which she yelled at me, “You lay down in that bed, right NOW!!” She promptly popped that IV in me before I could even realize what she was doing. Later she told me that I had turned a pasty shade of green and scared her half to death. “Don’t you EVER do that to me again”, she ordered. “I didn’t mean to do it the first time”, I whimpered back at her. Poor Jan… I’m not sure she has ever forgiven me for scaring her like that.
About that time, the anesthesiologist came to do my epidural. They made Ken leave the room and it made him so mad. They got the epidural placed in my back and started pumping the medicine in me. After a little while, he would stick my belly with a little pin and ask, “Can you feel that?” I told him that I could feel it, but it didn’t hurt. He pumped more medicine in. This happened three or four more times. Every time I said I could still feel him poking me with his pin, he would pump in more medicine. Finally, it was time for us to go into the delivery suite. They wheeled me in and someone asked if I thought I could help move myself onto the table. Now, with Jesse, not only could I wiggle my toes and climb over to the delivery table, but I had felt the scalpel go across my belly. It didn’t hurt, but I could still feel it. I assumed it would be the same on that day, so I said, “Yes, I believe I can.” Well, the only part of myself that I could move was my arms, upper chest, shoulders and head. Nothing from mid-chest down would budge. Boy, was I surprised!
After they moved me onto the table, they set up the drapes and went to work. Ken didn’t try to look over the drapes this time. I guess he had seen enough when he took a peek on Jesse’s birthday. Once Benjamin was born, the doctor handed him directly to Jan. Benjamin’s “Aunt Jan” got to hold him before his Mama did. Jan said, “He looks like Jesse, but oh, he has dimples!” She brought him close so I could kiss him. He was perfect! "We've been waiting for you!" I whispered, through tears. Ken and I were both overwhelmed with emotion. When they got me to the recovery room, I was shaking so hard from the epidural, I was almost afraid to hold Benjamin, for fear I would drop him. Jan said, “That’s okay, we’ll be right back!”, and went happily down the hall, showing off “our” new little boy. Ken and I were so glad that Jan was able to be with us for such a special occasion.
Later that afternoon, Mama brought Jesse up to meet his new baby brother. I was holding Benjamin in my arms when they came in. The moment Jesse spoke, Benjamin turned his little head toward Jesse. That baby already knew his brother’s voice! It was a tremendously sweet moment.
It is hard for me to believe that seventeen years have passed since I first laid eyes on that precious little dimple-face boy. Benjamin looked a lot my baby pictures when he was a baby, but as he has grown older, his resemblance to his dad has gotten more and more pronounced. He is built exactly like Ken, walks and talks like Ken, and has many of the same mannerisms and expressions. Sometimes the resemblance is so strong that it takes my breath away. I worry, sometimes, that Benjamin’s only true memories of Ken will be of him being sick. He was just a baby (seven) when Ken was diagnosed. But I have always talked to both boys about their Daddy, so I think Benjamin does have good memories of Ken, even if they are borrowed ones.
Happy Birthday, Benjamin Kendrick Lunsford! I am so blessed that God chose me to be your Mama.
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