Life as we know it now

Well, as Gene Autry would say, I'm back in the saddle again. Except I'm not toting my Old .44 and I'm not sleeping outdoors.

As you read in last week's beautifully written post, Elia Clara came to join us in the flesh on May 13th. And all of that day is already a blur to me. I cannot adequately describe both the pain and joy that afternoon brought, after so much uncertainty and fear that had built up to that point because of our last experience with Lars.

The birth was honestly a breeze. One big, long push of relief. The labor, on the other hand, was written 2000 years ago in a book called The Holy Bible. Written by several authors, you can find this book in just about any hotel room or church. I highly recommend it. It should be on Oprah's book list. They didn't have epidurals then, either, and a few survived. Labor pains have a different meaning with no heavy drugs and I felt very in tune with my faith after such an experience. I finally understood, fully, what they meant.

The thing I remember most about that afternoon was not the pain, but the dedication of the one beside me. (I'm about to get mushy, if you want to skip this part). Al has been through this now three times, and each time he seems to be more focused, ask more questions to the nurse, watch the monitor a bit closer, inform the doctor of changes, and breathe in my face when I get out of sync. With a full stomach this time, he was a rock of support and on this particular day, was on his feet for the better part of 15 hours.

Once Baby Girl Strawn came to light, he looked over both of us and went back and forth, cooing and praising intermittently. Since I had my eyes closed when they first whisked her away, I didn't see her grayish color, but I did notice the absence of a cry. I know it was at least a minute, since we're taught to flick the feet and rub the baby's back that long if they're not crying. I remember thinking, "not again". And even though my husband was telling me to give the nurses a chance to work, I was contemplating a big wailing session. I heard an APGAR of 6. They gave her (and I quote) "a few puffs" with the BVM and just as I was about to panic, I heard a squeak. Then another squeak, followed by an itty bitty gasp, then a possible breath, and finally a good long-lunged cry. It was then that I smiled, relaxed, and sat back to bathe in glory and thanksgiving. I heard from a nurse that the baby was a little girl and I was overcome with relief. Eden would be happy. I might even get some sleep out of the whole deal.

Through the suturing, I waited patiently for 45 minutes before I got the first glimpse of our little gift and she was immediately beautiful. She had been a part of us for 39 weeks and now I got to look at her features up close. Her paddle feet and long fingers, round head and slender shoulders. Her little pink lips and Eden's nose and cheeks. Another dream come true.

Now in our 10th day home, I have a few moments to myself to reflect on how blessed I really am. Funny, I'm at a loss for words.

Mom and Dad left yesterday morning after being here nearly two full weeks. What a joy it was to have them for that long. The kids had Poppa and Grandma all to themselves for the three days I was in hospital. Dad cooked meals, Mom cleaned the house, folded clothes, kept the kitchen in working order. They both read enough stories to last them at least 6 months, changed diapers and played 'house' and 'store' and 'restaurant' until they couldn't eat or shop for another piece of plastic food. It was hard to see them go, but I know there are a few grandchildren back in Michigan who miss them dearly and our turn is up for now.

Some of the highlights of their stay include several drives out into the country, one of which we got off on the wrong private dirt track after a storm, ended up on the Railroad's property and, had we gotten stuck, probably would have been arrested for trespassing. The RR truck was about 100 yards ahead of us, watching us with the radio up at his mouth the whole time. We were a huge pile of tumbleweed and one very large mud puddle away from them, and about 1/2 mile driveway from the freedom of the highway. We had two choices: back up for a mile on a one lane dirt path, or try to cross the rubbish filled berm into somebody's back yard, drive carefully across it and make it to their driveway, then on to the highway. After knocking on the doors and calling "anybody home!?" for a while, we chanced our luck and made a fast get-away.

We also took a trip up to the Douthit's ranch north of Crawford. It took the better part of an hour to drive their road because of the rain and I think next time I will stay in town. Mom, "it sure is steep down that ravine" did nothing to calm my nerves on the mud slick road. I was pretty sure I would have bailed out if Al'd stopped even once. Thank God for 4-wheel drive. Now only if we had the sensibility to not put ourselves in the situation to have to use it.

On Friday, Allen's parents arrived in town and we had a full house for the weekend and the baptism, which took place on Sunday during the service. I didn't even get teary-eyed this time.
A beautiful day, we had a couple friends over and set up chairs under the shade sail on the back deck. The baby slept. Lars took a nap and the rest of us had a enjoyable meal and fellowship.

Today, I began writing this post at 10:00 this morning. It is now 4:00 p.m., I've fed and changed the newest baby, fed and changed the 2nd baby, fed and played with the 1st baby, cleaned up after lunch, fed & cahnged baby #3 again, declined the Schwan's man, answered the phone a half dozen times, solving problems all over town and scheduling life as we know it.

I better quit now while I have a chance. The oldest two are ready for a snack and I just heard Elia cry for another meal. When does Daddy come home from work??

Dad's Perspective 3

*Disclaimer: If I, as the male, make any reference to discomfort, pain, or otherwise exhaustion, I make it in full realization that my wife experienced one thousand times worse and am in no way making comparisons.

It is safe to say that it wasn’t with just a little trepidation that we went into the birth and delivery of Baby Number 3.  After the trauma that was Eliezer’s birth, it could be better, but it could still be worse.  With Eliezer we were reminded that it wasn’t just getting up to the birth and then you were in the clear, but there is still much danger left to come.  And that is why the decision leading up to Baby Number 3’s birth was so difficult.  The doctor gave us the option of inducing a week early to lessen the risk of this baby being large and potentially having the same issues.  We hemmed and hawed for quite some time.  After all, playing with God’s natural plan can always lead to trouble.  Yet we don’t eschew modern medicine, either, for that is God’s gift as well.

We induced a week early, even though we were still asking ourselves if this was the right thing on the drive to the hospital.  We arrived at 6 a.m. ready to go, but couldn’t start the induction for a couple hours, because of other events in the birth center.  So being put on the back burner meant that we had some time to continue to ponder if we should even be there.

Realizing that with an induction, I would be able to plan out my day a little bit.  When the drugs came by 8 a.m, I determined that I would go get a big breakfast since I didn’t know when I would eat next.  So off I tromped to the cafeteria.  Back by nine, there was little progress.  Interestingly, the nurse that began with us was an OB veteran of 40 years, just like Sarah’s mom.  Unfortunately, she got called off to other tasks.  Her replacement?  The nurse that was with us during Eliezer’s birth!  After refreshing bits of the story, she remembered us, down to which room we were in for that delivery.  She was the nurse that I commented was very talented at being able to jump up and down on Sarah’s belly while typing one handed at the computer. 

This in-between time came in the form of walking.  Lots of it.  Must seat that bobbing baby down into that canal. 

Noon came and went with seeing only small change.  Up until this point I was able to focus on other things, like service planning for church, when I wasn’t the resident IV hanger pusher.  Whether it is because this is baby 3 or because there was little really to do but to sit and wait.  (I did this all with Sarah’s consent, no one curse me out for being uncaring.)   All the while we were conversing about that moment of breaking the water.  You see, after having a difficult birth, this dad began to take a real detailed interest in all the pro’s and con’s and possible complications of every little decision.  Water breaking too early can create an increased risk of a prolapsed cord.  That’s really dangerous.  Stall that action.

At 1 p.m. I went to get a big lunch, because you never know if you’ll get to eat your next meal.  While I was sitting in the cafeteria, I saw the doctor walk by.  I happened to be on the phone with mom-in-law and said, “I better let you go so I can eat, I’m certain he will be breaking her water.”  So I scorfed down my Cuban Pork (Regional West has the best cafeteria food) and speed walked back to the room.

As I entered I asked, “So did he break your water.”  No response.  In her no response I had the answer.  Time to pack all the other stuff away.  Now is the time to focus.  Now is the time to “breathe.”  Slow gentle contractions gave way to normal late stage labor.  I’m glad I had refreshed myself the night before with the breathing techniques from our past two.

Shall I skip ahead?  For surely hard contractions means that you will have significant noticeable progress?  Or not.  Breaking the water at 1 p.m., breathing through what is now the painful, sharp contractions for 3 hours should surely garner you some big progress.  Or not.  Still little progress.  3 at 1 p.m. and 4 at 4 p.m.

I’ve often wondered if it’s possible for staff to realize how deflating it is to not only “mom” but also “dad” when little change is reported.  In some ways dad is helpless.  Being an encourager is difficult when you yourself are discouraged.  Even when mom is growing emotionally and physically weary, you can’t be.  When mom is sitting there frustrated that progress just isn’t happening, so is Dad.  Tears of frustration hurt, and hurt Dad too, because he can’t take it away. 

What took place at 1 p.m. committed us to having this child today.  There was no option of “I can’t do this” or “I need some rest.”  Although there was time for a bath to help relax.  My wife, not me. 

Slightly before 5, Sarah said “Go get the nurse, that contraction felt different.  I have to push”.  With a quick reminder, “Urge to push, blow it away” I traipsed out the door to find the nurse.  With adept communication skills, I relayed the message.  But in all honesty, I was doubtful of any hope.  After all, 45 minutes ago, there was no change.  How could 45 minutes make that big of a difference?

With a quick check, “You’re an 8, I’m going to call the doctor.”  With the tone of a child asking for chocolate cake for breakfast, Sarah asked, “May I have that epidural now?”  “I’m sorry, you won’t make it long enough to get an epidural.” And out the door went nurse.  Leaving me with… a wife ready to push, and about ready to cry from the lack of comfort that the drug peddler could have provided. 

“Blow out the candles, blow blow blow.”  Yes that was the repetitive mantra for half an hour while people came out of the walls to stand and wait.  When the nice staff asks the usual question to help divert attention, “what are you having?” I can do no other than to say, “Well, we hope it is a human.  If not, we are sending it back, I don’t do lizards.”  I can honestly say I’ve never heard an entire labor and delivery room laughing at one time, even the doctor.  Well everyone, minus one.  The one blowing out the candles in her imagination. 

With the screams of a push, I did what should have garnered a slapped face.  I got right in the face of the one agonizing and firmly barked, “Blow.”  And with that, blew.  I apologized later for my breath.

After the half hour of blowing came and went, the doctor said, “Next contraction, push.”  And push she did.  In one, prolonged push, here came baby.  Not without its own complications.  Nuchal cord, clamp, clamp, cut.  “Keep pushing.”

“Is it out?”

“I don’t hear it.”

“No, not again.”

Now, I’m not sure how my response to those three statements came out, but it went something like this, “Relax, it’s only been a few seconds.  Give them time.” 

Well, it was again, but this time over seconds instead of minutes.  A couple pumps of the bag and some blow by oxygen and we had the cries that we wanted to hear.

It was interesting though, that the doctor had to ask after the baby started crying what it was that we actually had.  Just as quickly as all the people arrived, they faded back into the woodwork with a simple “congratulations.” 

I would have to say that with our experiences in childbirth, each one gets more emotional.  Fear and joy counter-play with each other in such a way that sometimes you can’t distinguish them.  That evening sitting and decompressing as Sarah and I usually do, I thought of my friend from seminary who’s wife delivered a stillborn child 2 weeks ago.  That could happen to anyone.  All the things that can happen during childbearing and childbirth. 

This time God granted for us a seemingly healthy beautiful baby girl who got to meet her sister and brother.

I say this in all love, my wife has been clingyer after this childbirth.  And that’s ok.  Staying by the side of the one who just endured a natural process “naturally” isn’t so wrong, and is probably biblical too.  After all, she’s the one you’re united with, not your child.  Besides, the baby is in able hands in the warmer.  I ended up staying the night in the hospital with two simple words, “please stay.” 

I witnessed it with my own ears, and a good thing too, because I probably wouldn’t have believed it.  This child, unlike our others, actually slept!  (That has since faded a bit, but that’s not the focus of this post.)  After sleeping on it, we decided the last nights discussion actually produced a name.  Elia (el-AY-yah) which is Hebrew for Yahweh is God or Yahweh (the Lord) is my God.  To think, this theological name came not from the preacher, but from the wife. 

I haven’t said this in previous “dad’s perspectives” before, but it is true for all of them, I am truly married to an amazing wife who endures the pains of childbirth with great strength and courage.  Our family is truly blessed as she brings that into each day.

All thanks and praise to God!

Elia Clara Strawn

Elia (pronounced eh-lay-yah) Clara Strawn
born: May 13, 2010; 5:29 p.m.
6 lbs 3.3 oz
19 inches long

Elia means "the Lord is my God"

no we are not trying to have all "E" names!

Baptism will be on May 23, 2010 at St. Paul's Lutheran Church, Bridgeport, NE

Impending baby....

I can say for certainty that I'm ready to be done with the current pregnancy. If for any other reason, to have a Margarita. Or a Lime Daiquiri. Or maybe a mudslide. No, a Grasshopper, I think. Yeah, one of each of those. Sooner, rather than later. I can also say for certainty that no matter how much I want this to happen, it's all in God's perfect timing and I will wait...though impatiently.

I was packing a hospital bag when I asked Eden if I could borrow something. Here's how it went:

"Eden, can Mommy borrow your baby blanket to bring our new baby home in?"
"Oh, sure. Just try not to get any blood on it."

Where do kids learn this sort of stuff??

If you read last week's blog, you will remember we were vacationing in Sheridan, Wyoming for a couple days before the Pastor's conference. Though the weather was less than ideal with blizzards, rain and wind intermittently, we made it work and enjoyed our time together as a family, whether we were in the hotel room drawing and playing Playdoh, or out in the wind on a playground, trying not to blow away. Having two preschool age children, entertainment is relatively simple. Find a different playground every day of the week and it's a new adventure, free of charge!

With an impending snow storm on the day we were to be driving home, we decided to pack up right after the conference and head out the same day, ahead of the storm. We made it home late Wednesday night with two sleeping children and a Ford full of 'stuff'. (We couldn't pass through Casper without shopping). And, being the only opportunity to do anything for my birthday, we went to Sanford's for supper. The kids had a blast looking at all the fun things plastered to the wall & hanging from the ceiling. The wrenches that were stuck to the concrete floor had Lars entertained for at least 10 minutes on the way back from the bathroom. Fun times.

Thursday and Friday we stayed lazy, unpacked, played outside and the like. Al cleaned out his hobby/work room. I sewed a white robe for the baby's baptism. I had a doctor appointment that wasn't very exciting. Saturday, Al tried to go to church and work, but with Springtime comes illness and, being away the whole week, he suddenly had many people to visit. On a good note, I didn't have to make supper two nights in a row, because of graduation dinners, which was nice. Poor Lars had to watch us eat, and I figured I'd better be more prepared next year.

Today is windy but sunny and I've done all I can do outside in my yard until I can plant annuals. I tried to induce labor yesterday by running while I push mowed the entire lawn. Needless to say, it didn't work.

Lord willing, the next post will have cute baby pics and a great story from daddy about the birth. Until then, you'll have to settle for Bill Cosby's rendition, above link.

Blessings on your week.

Live from the Wild West!

Coming to you tonight, LIVE from Sheridan, Wyoming. Home of the wildest west you've ever hoped to experience (no joke, the Wal-mart cashier had a belt buckle bigger than life attached to his Wranglers!). Where Buffalo Bill Cody held auditions on the front porch of the town Inn, and Don King, famous saddle maker, calls home.

In the three days we've been here, we've put hundreds of miles on the Ford and visited more places than I thought possible with two small children. Thank God for the installed DVD player.

Here, the Reader's Digest Version:

Day Leaving: Drive to Sheridan. Not many houses to stop at if you run out of gas. Lots of wide open prairie land with cattle and horses grazing. Even on the interstate, we saw few other vehicles. Certainly a contrast between I-25 and I-75! Found the hotel easily and ordered pizza from a local pizzeria. Very tasty.

Day One: Wait in hotel room for the snow to stop. Decide it's not going to stop and bundle up for a drive around town, exploring. Main St. looks promising. Drove around the cemetery (always one of my favorite activities) and found several historic looking buildings near the RR tracks, including the famous Sheridan Inn. Came back to the hotel for lunch/naps while Mom goes grocery shopping for the week. With weather still blizzard like, and kids cooped up and screaming, we ventured back out, this time up to Ranchester, over to Dayton, nearby towns, and followed the country road in the foothills back into Sheridan. Hoping for an early bedtime and better weather tomorrow, we head back to the hotel for the evening.

Day Two: Fifty degrees, a few sprinkles, lots of wind and an exciting adventure to Kendrick Park, a huge playground at the base of an equally huge mansion. Lars spent most of the time chasing a squirrel, yelling, (and I quote), "Squirrel, come back here!" While Eden enjoyed climbing and having Daddy's full attention, Mom and Lars took a walk over a bridge, throwing sticks in on one side and watching them come out the other side. Fascinating.

After a good hour there wearing the kids out, we got in the Ford and headed up to the Bighorn Mountains, elevation 8900 feet. The drive up was beautiful, red rock sheers up one side, and a prairie grass drop off on the other side. Kids slept nicely, but a few miles before Burgess Junction, about an hour into the drive, the blizzard began again and we were in 4' of snow with ice and snow covered roads and not a whole lot of other traffic. Deciding we didn't need any unnecessary stress on this trip, and noticing no cell phone signal, we turned around and headed back down the mountain. The drive down was hair raising (at least for the passenger) but the temperature rose as we descended, and it was balmy once we made it back to Sheridan. Back to the hotel for the NASCAR race.

Day three: Kids were up early, so we dressed for Sunday School and Worship Service at Immanuel Lutheran Church with Rev. Paul Cain. I wish I'd had my camera. The coat rack had a shelf above it, filled end to end with up-side-down larger than life cowboy hats! Classic. The communion service was full of people and beautiful voices, they used a service I knew without looking (which was good, b/c Lars slept the whole service on my lap) and had a choir that sounded wonderful. Eden caught me singing softly during the choir piece, and she said to me, "Mommy, it's not our turn to sing. It's just the blue team." The blue team? Oh, the choir is wearing blue robes. Funny.

After service and lunch, we headed out to Montana, a place none of us had ever been. We first found Tongue River State Park, and tooled around there before heading further north. Next, we came across Rosebud Battlefield State Park, one of the many Indian/Government battlefields in this part of the country. Since the kids were so well behaved and we still had plenty of daylight, we headed further north and west to the Battle of Little Bighorn National Park. What a nicely laid out park, with lots of easy hiking trails, a great drive with signs to read along the way, and hundreds of scattered gravestones throughout the ridges and fields to ponder. The National Cemetery is well kept and the museum is worth the few minutes it takes to peruse. I, of course, left our National Park stamp books in the hotel room, so was kicking myself all the way back to Sheridan, 70 miles plus some change.

Now, I have laundry running in the washroom downstairs and I'm reeling over the black and white run hockey game while everybody else sleeps quietly. Tomorrow, the Pastor's conference begins and the week will go quickly. For now, I'll enjoy the peace and quiet!