Jakob, the Tall

Sixteen.

Sweet, sweet sixteen! 

I remember those days.

I also remember the days when the newest sixteen-year-old boy was a brand new infant.

Thoughts of February 13, 1995:

1.  I loved Joe for his lobbying on my behalf in Labor and Delivery.  The nurse was convinced things would go better if I took off my bra.  I was more convinced I didn't want to take off my bra.  Joe told the nurse he would be happy if they cut it off me to save his son.  I got to wear it.  They eventually got to cut it off my body.

2.  I really worked hard to have a natural delivery.  Really.  Hard.  When the doctor came in to tell us she didn't think it was going to happen, I was pretty sure she was lying.  But what can a laboring woman do when the doctor says those words, "I think the baby is in trouble." 

Answer:  a laboring woman and her husband consent to a c-section.

3.  I couldn't help but giggle when the doctor held squishy little Jakob over the drape.  He was all nostril.  Trust me:  one of the ugliest babies who was best loved by his family.  Staci lifted off his little baby cap so her and Joe could laugh at his pointy head.  The rush of love?  Unmistakeable.

Could we do that day all over again, we would. 

We love Jakob Kounkel.  May God bless him on his sixteenth birthday.