Third (Part 3)

     Once the operating room calmed and the staff regained composure, the process of prepping my wife for surgery started from the top.  It took another fifteen minutes and my wife was ready…or so everyone thought.  Then, Dr. Bryars went to make the cut in my wife’s abdomen and announced that the surgical application covering her abdomen had been taped on and applied upside-down!

     “Ahhhhhhhhh!”  I screamed silently in my head.  This was too much.  I looked at God, however one does that, and I smiled the biggest smile.  I knew he was playing with me.  At that moment I KNEW we were going to have a little girl.  Earlier, when the fly landed, I had a hunch He was up to something, but now I knew it.  He was toying with me and I loved every minute of it.  I whispered a silent thanks as I turned my attention back to my wife.

     The dressing was removed and replaced facing the proper direction.  It was the fault of an intern learning a lesson the hard way.  She was apologetic and rather embarrassed. Finally, the surgery began.

     And ten minutes later our child was pulled into this world by Dr. Bryars as he casually announced,  “It’s a girl!” 

     The words echoed in our heads and in our hearts.  My wife and I repeated them to each other.  “It’s a girl!  It’s a girl!”  We both started to cry.  ”It’s Hannah,” I said softly to her as the nurse handed our daughter to us.  “She is beautiful.  She is absolutely beautiful!”

     We had the name Hannah picked out since our first child and now she was finally here.  We could hardly believe it.  It was a moment neither of us will ever forget, a gift beyond any gift imaginable.  A little girl named Hannah was now a part of our family of five thanks to the One who works in amazing, magnificent, and memorable ways.

From my desktop to yours, it’s another Alabama memory.

Third (Part 2)

     It was a long wait.  From the time we found out we would not know the sex of our third child until his/her birth to the actual event was very, very, very long.  There was constant speculation.  My wife’s sister was absolutely sure we were having our third boy.  Our friends at church were hoping and praying otherwise.  We heard all kinds of “old wives tales” about how to determine the baby’s sex.  We took off our wedding rings and let them dangle over the womb, but the results were never consistent.  We talked about how high or low my wife was carrying the baby, what sort of food cravings she was having, where the baby was kicking her, and how bad her morning sickness was, but none of these things proved conclusive.  So, we waited.

     Finally, the time came for our child to be delivered.  Since the prior 2 deliveries resulted in C sections, the doctor decided to go ahead and schedule a third.  We arrived at the Women’s Pavilion (tasteful word for hospital) early in the morning.  We were a little nervous but everything was very familiar and that made it easier.

     As the first nurse entered the room to start everything moving toward the surgery she casually asked my wife, “Are you ready to have that third boy?”

     It caught us both off guard and my wife took a deep breath and sighed.  She did not respond to the nurse because she was out of the room before my wife could say anything.  I think she wanted to cry.  Of course, the nurse did not really know anything that we didn’t know.  But it was hard to believe that she did not have some sort of advantage with all of her experience.

     The usual preparation seemed to go a little faster this time and before we knew it we were in the operating room under the surreal lights surrounded by doctors and nurses.  Dr. Bryars, the doctor performing the section, spoke calmly to my wife and I about life in general as he went about his routine.  I stroked my wife’s hair as I sat next to her on a rolling stool.  Then, I checked the video camera to make sure everything was working as it should.  While I was doing that, the strangest thing happened.

     A small fly came out of nowhere and landed in the middle of the sterile gauze that had been carefully taped to my wife’s abdomen.  Dr. Bryars stopped abruptly in the middle of his conversation and stared in silent disgust at this disease infested interruption that had just ruined fifteen laborious minutes of painstaking preparation.  His eyes were soon joined by the eyes of everyone else in the room.  For a moment there was total silence.

     All I could do was smile and silently chuckle at what happened next.  For what seemed like fifteen minutes, this highly paid staff of seasoned professionals fervently pursued this tiny-winged terror all over the operating room.  I really wanted to turn on the video camera but I didn’t think they would like that too much.  The staff went from corner to corner and ceiling to floor, as they each took pot shots at this clever little insect.  It was to no avail.  Time after time he would escape them mocking their educated minds.  He taunted them from the surgical lights suspended over the operating table.  He extended his tongue in scorn as he perched on one of their heads.  His ridicule seemed to know no end, and the more they pursued the more clever his dodges became.  I am sure that my uncontrollable laughter did not hep them feel any better about the situation, but the more the chase continued, the more side-splitting it became.  I was in tears!

     Finally the fly had his cockiness get the best of him as he returned to his original point of departure.  He landed on my wife’s abdomen again, and as he did a large, African-American nurse snuck up behind him.  With her eyes opening wide in anticipation of the kill she lifted a large roll of gauze and paper high abover her head and…”Whap!” she brought it right down on top of him.

     “Gotcha sucker!”  she shouted in triumph. 

     The room erupted in applause as the hunter wiped her prey into the trash can and smiled the sweet smile of victory.

     My wife was so out of it she didn’t feel a thing.

Next Week – Third (Part 3)

From my desktop to yours, it’s another Alabama memory.

Third (Part 1)

After my second son was born in May of 1996, I had the perfect family…for me.  I grew up with one younger brother and my Mom and Dad.  So, with the birth of my second son I was on common ground.  I knew I could handle the situations that would arise.  Everything was very familiar.  Then, my wife and I decided to have another child.

It was easy to talk me into having a third child.  I love kids!  They bring something into your life that no one else can bring.  So, in the latter part of 1999 we got the news that would change our lives forever, again.  My wife was pregnant.

Her doctor found out fairly early and brought her in for a sonogram at eight weeks.  Needless to say no one could tell at that time whether we were going to have a girl or a boy.  As the pregnancy progressed and the baby grew we decided that we could not stand the suspense this time.  We did not find out the sex of either of our first two children ahead of time.  This time we wanted to know.  The doctor scheduled my wife for another sonogram.

We were both quite excited the day she went for the sonogram that would reveal the sex of our third child.  Of course we were both hoping fervently for a little girl to join our family.  However, we knew the chances of that happening were rather slim.  After all, my wife’s older sister gave birth to three boys, and everyone told us the odds.  If you’ve had two boys already, there is a really good chance your third child will also be a boy.  So, we assumed that this child was probably going to be a boy also.  Even so, in the back of our minds and in our heart of hearts we both prayed for a little girl.

As my wife entered the room where they perform the sonogram she was nervous with anticipation.  She sat down and the nurse started to get things ready.

Then, out of the blue the nurse said, “Okay, we’ll need a check for the full amount before we can get started.”

“A check?” my wife replied.

“Yes,” the nurse clarified.  “You’re insurance doesn’t cover a sonogram to determine the sex of the child.”

“I thought the doctor ordered it,” she said.

“He did, but the purpose of the sonogram is to determine the sex of the baby.”

Somewhere, at some point a terrible miscommunication had taken place.  We thought that the sonogram was going to be covered by insurance.  It was not.  Our budget was tight, too tight to spend several hundred dollars on something we did not really need.  We would have to wait to find out if we were having a boy or a girl.  We were both a little depressed that day, but only a little.  We were used to waiting.

Next week – Third (Part 2)

From my desktop to yours, it’s another Alabama memory.

Thank you, God.

I love my family.  They have been a constant throughout my life.  I still remember the day that God brought each of my children into this world.  Of course, the first is the most memorable.

It was in August of 1994 and I was about to start a new job teaching Alabama history to ninth graders at Northport Junior High School.  I had my classroom ready and was eager to prove myself in this new position.  My principal was aware of the possibility of my absence near the beginning of school, which was a good thing because sure enough, on the eve of my first day teaching, my wife went into labor.  It started as back pains, and then turned into regular back pains.  Once she was having these pains about every five minutes I took a deep breath and called the doctor.  We grabbed her bags and headed for the hospital.  We were awake all night.

Just before daybreak my wife and I were prepared for surgery.  She had pushed and sweated and given it her all.  It was time for a section.  My adrenaline was still pumping as I put on my mask and waited.  They won’t let you in the room for the spinal tap.  I was very nervous, but I wanted to be strong for my bride.  After a few minutes of waiting, I was allowed in the operating room and given instructions.  Somehow, I heard and followed them, but my attentions were more focused on my wife, flat on her back, arms spread out as Christ on the cross, somewhat relaxed for the first time all night.  I sat down and spoke to her, trying to offer continued comfort.  The whole scene was surreal.  The lights that covered her body were intense and brilliant.  The doctors and nurses worked at a steady pace.  I did not watch at first, but my curiosity soon got the best of me.  It was about that time that our son was born.

It was incredible, overwhelming, beautiful, amazing, fantastic, and unforgettable to see a new life, a new person, emerge from under those intense surgical lights.  My first thoughts were of the Creator God who formed this baby from the start.  I had nothing to do with this.  I did not place his eyes where they were.  I did not give him arms and legs and lungs to breathe.  I did not even make him a boy.  All of this was done without consenting me.  All of this was done in the silence of the womb.  It was a gift beyond gifts to be allowed to be the first to witness His creation up close and personal.  When I held my son for the first time I cried and I smiled and I prayed.  Thank you God.  Thank you. 

That is a moment I will never forget.

From my desktop to yours, it’s another Alabama memory.