For Jordan and Tom Maisch, the days are busy but sweet

THE PARENTS: Jordan Maisch, 35, and Tom Maisch, 36, of Roxborough

THE CHILDREN: Callison (Callie) Rose, 3 1/2; Thomas (Tommy) Joseph, 1 1/2; Cole Anthony, born April 13, 2020

THEIR NAMES: Callison is Jordan’s grandmother’s maiden name; Thomas is named for his father; Cole comes from “McCole,” Jordan’s maiden name. The middle names — Rose, Joseph, Anthony — also nod to relatives. 

Jordan used to feel puzzled by people who had only one child. For her, a brood of six — plenty of sibling company, plenty of noise — sounded ideal.

That was before she and Tom endured an 18-month slog to become pregnant — a year of trying on their own, followed by six cycles using fertility drugs and intrauterine inseminations. 

It was before Jordan developed a liver condition called intrahepatic cholestasis of pregnancy (ICP), which causes excessive itching and raises the risk of preterm delivery and stillbirth. Before she lay on the bathroom floor on the eve of a scheduled 37-week induction, letting the tile cool her skin and wondering if the insane itching would ever stop.

And it was before the emergency C-section that brought Callison into the world — a 7-pound, 9-ounce infant who had fibers of the amniotic sac bound so tightly around her fingers that the middle one on her left hand had been amputated.

“Her finger’s missing,” Tom told Jordan, who was still hazy with medication.

“I thought: All right,” she says. “Brain things, lungs — those are a big deal. A finger? OK, we’re both alive. We’re cool.”

Callie had swallowed blood during the delivery and spent a week in the NICU at Lankenau Medical Center; the first time Jordan saw her, 14 hours after giving birth, the infant was wearing a CPAP mask.

Bringing their daughter home — sans monitors, sans nurses — was terrifying. “All of a sudden, I was in charge of keeping another person alive,” Jordan says. For the first few days, she insisted that she and Tom take turns sleeping in three-hour shifts, so one of them could keep a constant watch on Callie.

“I totally got it,” Jordan says. “I completely understood why people would have just one child.”

But both knew they weren’t really done. Tom is one of six siblings, and Jordan grew up with a passel of cousins; they’d talked early in their relationship about their vision of a large family.

The two dated for a brief time as teenagers, then lost touch for a decade; they reconnected via Facebook in 2012, when Tom suddenly messaged Jordan with an invitation to a Phillies game. The Phils lost. But that date, Aug. 26, rekindled a flame between them.

Five months later, they were engaged. They married on New Year’s Eve 2014 at Holy Family Church in Manayunk, with a reception punctuated by an ankle injury for Tom during a Patrick Swayze-inspired dance move on a flight of steps. He limped through their Jamaica honeymoon.

After the first difficult pregnancy and unnerving birth experience, it took months to “get into a good groove and routine,” Jordan says. But she called the fertility clinic again when Callie was about a year old. This time, it took only two cycles — one with a new fertility drug — to conceive.

“It’s harder to be pregnant when you already have a child,” Jordan says. She felt more nauseated this time, more easily fatigued. And then, at 35 weeks, the itching began: another diagnosis of ICP. Tommy was born via a scheduled C-section on the day after Christmas.

At home with both kids, Jordan recalls, “I felt great. I felt like a rock star, like I had a grip on what was going on. I felt more confident of my parenting skills.” Even when Tom returned to work — he drives a United States Postal Service truck, often working 14-hour-days — she felt undaunted by parenting solo.

“I felt very lucky that I had two healthy children. But both pregnancies were high-risk and a little stressful at the end,” Jordan remembers thinking. Would they try again? “We thought: We’ll just leave it in God’s hands.”

Cole was a “welcome surprise,” their only child conceived without fertility assistance. But the pregnancy was more arduous: Jordan was chasing a toddler, tending a baby, and — like clockwork, at 35 weeks — scratching a ferocious itch.

This time, the doctor performing the C-section noted an unusual amount of scar tissue and advised Jordan against any more pregnancies. Cole was born with fluid in his lungs and needed an 11-day stay in the NICU. His oxygen level would drop when he ate.

At the same time, COVID-19 had altered everything about the hospital experience: Jordan wore a mask throughout the delivery, and only one parent could visit the NICU at a time. Callie and Tommy weren’t permitted to see their new brother in the hospital.

“What a scary time to have a baby,” Jordan says. “Also, I felt guilty — like I wasn’t spending enough time at the hospital with Cole, and I wasn’t spending enough time at home with my other kids. I had to come to terms with the fact that I’m one person, I could only be in one place.”

It was a relief to bring Cole home. Callie and Tommy rushed up to the car seat: “Is that our new baby?” Tom was able to take a few days off. Jordan didn’t have to divide her time between hospital and home.

Now the days are long — Tom works from 6 a.m. to 8 p.m., six days a week — and Jordan’s alone with the kids, though her mother-in-law, who lives nearby, often helps. There are nerve-jangling moments: She’s nursing Cole while Tommy, barely out of babyhood, decides to try climbing the stairs or investigating the kitchen cabinets.

Sundays, Tom’s day off, are sweet: breakfast as a family, hours of playing in the backyard. And Jordan notes the occasional flashes of gratitude. “I have these moments of: Oh, my God, I have three beautiful, healthy babies.”

Recently, she said to Callie, “You’re so lucky to have two brothers.” And her daughter, who calls both boys “my babies,” agreed. “Don’t tell anyone, Mommy,” she said. “I don’t want their feelings to get hurt.”