In May, my dad's wife Mary threw a lovely baby shower for Kim and me in Michigan and we had an amazing day with cousins and aunts. But because DK and I flew standby on one of my dad's buddy passes, we had to watch the flights closely to make sure we knew when and how we were getting home. It's a tricky game to play and only someone who's flown non rev would really understand. It's also kind of an addiction. I digress.
Our window of opportunity was closing quickly as the flights out the next morning were filling up quick and our best option was a flight leaving about an hour after the baby shower that rainy Sunday afternoon. We hurriedly kissed family goodbye, dashed through the rain to the car and booked it to the airport, the adrenalin pumping and the adventure continuing. In the chaos and rush of moments like these, I love catching a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye and noticing how strong and so focused the man is under pressure. Rawr. Again, I digress.
I love how the race is officially on once you get through airport security. Slip sliding into shoes, securing laptops back into place and feeding belts through pant loops, all while moving towards a sprint and making sure you've not left your cell phone in the bowl. There I was at 7 months pregnant, running at a full sprint towards the gate, my husband a few paces behind me. I'd like to take this moment to point out the fact I ran a half marathon when I was about 6 weeks pregnant. We were the last ones on the plane and as we fell into our seats, panting and high fiving, the lovely flight attendant up front locked eyes with me and motioned for us to come forward. Hello you First Class upgrade, you!
And there we were. The last flight I'd take with baby in belly, feeling loved and blessed by family and still thriving off the adrenalin rush from making it by the skin of our teeth on that flight. Once we were settled in and flying smoothly back towards home, DK turns to me and says "I know what her name is going to be. I figured it out and was waiting for a quiet moment to tell you about it."
Time out. Almost the same moment I get an excited idea, I'm on the phone or running across the house to tell him about it. Him, he processses it first and then waits for the perfect moment to devote to his presentation. Men are from Mars, women are from Venus. Time in.
I gasped. Because right then I realized, "THIS IS IT". This was the moment I'd been waiting for, hoping for and dreaming of. Right here in First Class. (Insert snobby laugh here.)
"I think her name should be Jordan. After you. It's a beautiful name, it's strong, and it's feminine."
I sat there, stunned with my mouth gaping open, nodding profusely and so touched. It made such great sense, especially because it was his idea, and it meant the world to me.
"Yes... and her middle name after you!" He told me that was exactly what he had already thought but wanted to see how I felt about it first. We decided to give his name the feminine spelling and when that plane landed on Texas soil, our baby had a name.
Early in my pregnancy , I told DK I was confident it would rain the day she was born, that like a cleansing rain / river, she would be born a refreshing change in the world. The name Jordan means "down flowing" and the meaning of the name Leigh is "delicate". So it was more confirmation of her name to find out that while she was born, in the midst of a drought in Houston, a thunder storm poured out on the Medical Center.
A lot of people have asked why we named our baby "Jordan Jordan" and now you know, Jordan is actually my middle name. My radio name. My mom actually chose it after I was born while she was laying in her hospital bed watching tv. There she saw Barbara Jordan, the first African-American woman elected to the the Texas Senate knocking it out and making it happen. Mom was inspired and thought "That's another tough woman I can name my baby after" and thus I was Elizabeth Jordan. Elizabeth, after my grandma.
Okay, this blog post is long enough. Bye.