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.

There’s no man like a Snowman!

The recent chilly weather got me thinking. 

Do you remember the old classic Heinz commercial where a little boy stared into a full ketchup bottle waiting for the object of his desire to emerge on to his plate while the background music played, “Anticipation, anticipation…”  Well, for some reason that is how I feel about the upcoming winter in Alabama.  I am literally praying that we might see some of that freezing white fun they call snow sometime this winter.  For all of us in the middle portion of the state it has been years since we have seen any real accumulation.  As a matter of fact, of my three kids only the oldest can remember ever seeing snow in our yard.  Now you may think I am being selfish, but I don’t think any growing child should be deprived of the unique opportunity to pelt his or her sibling with a tightly packed ball of fresh powder.  I also think every child should have an Alabama memory of sledding full speed down a deserted wintry street past his newly created snowman and crashing headlong into a snowbank in front of the neighbor’s house.  But alas, perhaps my dreams are in vain.

The problem is this.  It has snowed here before.  As a matter of fact our last big snow was over eight inches!  (Okay you northerners…you can stop snickering, now…)  So, we have had a taste of the good life.  That is why it is so hard to deal with the current situation.  I really want to share a snow day or two with my family before they are grown.  I would love to wake up to the sound of silence in the streets and the radio declaration that, “Everything is closed!  Stay home and go crazy with your wife and your kids!”  That would be the greatest opportunity in the world for me, a blog waiting to happen!  Will it?  We’ll see.

From my desktop to yours…hopefully, it will be another Alabama memory!

My Little Girl

       Okay, it’s time to get sentimental.  If you know me at all you know how much my family means to me.  They are the gift greater than all gifts in my life and I cherish each one of them, especially my little girl.  While I was growing up I was surrounded by my brother and my parents.  So, when my wife and I had two boys, our family seemed very familiar.  I was in my domain.  It was very comfortable.  Then, along came my little girl and life has never been the same.

       For most of my life girls have been an unsolvable mystery.  Even still I hold this to be true today, but with less intensity than during my youth.  During my younger days I was extremely insecure around the opposite sex.  I knew they were supposed to be ordinary people like anyone else, but I wasn’t really sure how to act around them.  So, with that background in mind, along with my “comfortable” family of three guys and my wife, imagine my thoughts when the doctor cried out, “It’s a girl!”

       I cried when my little girl was born.  I cried when all of my children were born.  As a matter of fact, I don’t see how anyone who witnesses a child being born can keep from crying.  Anyway, after I finished crying, I realized what had just happened.  I was now the father of a new little girl.  The whole idea was just downright crazy!  How could I be expected to raise a child of the opposite sex?  How could I take care of something or someone that had been so mysterious and alien to me for the majority of my life?  Eventually, my anxiety calmed.  I realized I was not alone in my new responsibilities.  I’m not sure I have ever been more thankful for my wife.  After all (stating the absolute obvious) she is a girl!  She would know what to do.

As my little girl has grown to the age of six I can truly say that, so far, my fears have been in vain.  So far, it has been an amazing adventure to see a girl growing up.  There have been tough moments, but there were and are tough moments with my boys, too.  The truly amazing thing has been watching my little girl be a little girl, to see the things that set her apart from all of the little boys in the world.

       My little girl can make me smile in a way that no one else can.  She is delicate and yet very strong.  She is dainty while she lifts a twenty pound puppy and carries him to her room.  She is gentle unless she is beating up on her older brothers.  She works hard when she wants and she does things voluntarily that no one else will do.  Granted, she can be stubborn, very stubborn.  At times she will take punishment instead of doing what she is told.  She will never believe that she cannot do anything and everything her older brothers can do.  She loves her friends and her family, and she hates it when people are mean.  She wants to dance ballet and take karate.  She loves books, soccer, movies, green peas, animals, her mommy, and great big hugs.  She also loves to be tickled.

       My little girl is special beyond words and for me, to hold her is to embrace heaven.  For through her God gives me a treasured glimpse of his unconditional love.

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

One of my Favorite Toys

When I was growing up in northern Alabama there were many new and innovative toys that crossed my path.  However, none of them were quite as simple and eloquent and the infamous set of “clackers!” 

We used to play with these for hours at a time.  The best of us could get the two hard acrylic marble-looking balls to smash into each other above and below our fingers at amazing rates of speed.  Of course, the faster you got them going the louder the noise!  That made it even more fun!

Unfortunately all good things must come to an end.  When several kids started receiving injuries from these clackers, they were removed from the marketplace.  I could have sworn I heard a collective sigh of relief from parents and educators throughout the United  States when this happened.  I think this toy redefined annoying and obnoxious to the adult world.  But, in my world, they redefined fun!

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

5 B.C. (Before Children)

When you think back on life before children, what do you remember?  I remember Thursday nights watching NBC’s great line up of the Cosby Show, Family Ties, Cheers, and Night Court.  I remember actually being bored on occasion.  I remember volunteering to help with the church youth, going window shopping, taking walks on the University Campus, and spending more time with my wife.  I also remember that before kids I was still a kid myself.

A lot has changed with our three additions to the national census.  It is truly amazing to know a person from day one.  I am extremely curious what each tax deduction will be doing twenty years from now.  Who knows, maybe they will be caring for dependents of their own!

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

Heroes

Summertime was and is one of the greatest things about growing up in Alabama.  If you mention the season to me, it brings back memories of swimming pools, fishing, dirtball fights, forts, video games, baseball, fireworks, Frisbees, tennis, camp, and of course, girls.  For boys everywhere growing up ruins summertime.  Before puberty we see the season as one big adventure waiting for us.  The simplest things capture our imaginations.  A stick becomes a golden scabbard; a rock becomes a cannonball.  Our backyard is a time portal to the seven seas or an unknown planet beyond our galaxy.  Our rooms are full of hidden caves and buried treasure.  Every day turns us into a new hero accomplishing a new superhuman task, rescuing civilization and mankind right before Mom calls us in for dinner.  Life is excellent!  And then…puberty.

With puberty comes an awareness of the opposite sex that preoccupies and overwhelms the young male mind, especially during the summer.  Thoughts of adventure and heroism fade into thoughts of insecurity and self-awareness.  The back yard turns into something you mow.  Your room turns into an ordinary room with a mirror on a wall where you can ponder all of the changes your body is undergoing.  Your house turns into a prison and your parents into wardens.  Your brothers and sisters turn into objects of deep envy, reminders of how easy and beautiful life used to be.  Nothing is the same.

If you talk to grown men about this change, most of them will agree; it is a place they never want to visit again!  I believe most of our male adult lives are spent trying to get back to our childhood before puberty, when life was simple and we were heroes.  It is the core of our being.  We want to be heroes.  It can be found in the politician, the CEO, the professional baseball player, the teacher, the engineer, the systems administrator, and every other man on the planet. All of us want to save the day.  We want to be applauded and cheered for liberating civilization from the dark side once again.  If you look hard enough, you can see it.

There are many male responses to this desire for heroism.  Some men pursue it quietly and diligently at work or with their families.  Others will seize the adoration they seek through military, corporate, or social conquest.  Any way you look at it though, it is the foremost task in the heart and mind of the adult male to recapture his back yard youth and to once again become a hero!  Don’t you think?

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

Happy Birthday, Scott!

Today is my oldest son’s twelfth birthday.  As any parent will tell you, it seems like just yesterday when I was carrying him around in my arms so his grandparents could see him for the very first time.  There are many great memories surrounding the years he has invaded our lives.  Some of them are funny, some are sad, and some are just downright embarrassing.

I remember taking our church youth group to a camp in the mountains of North Carolina when Scott was still a baby.  We had dinner at a Pizza Hut in Brevard, and my “shy” boy decided he liked our waitress.  So, he patted her on the fanny while she was taking our order.  It startled her until she realized what had happened.  Then, she laughed.  My wife and I laughed, too.

I also remember many late nights and difficult days when the only thing that would get him quiet was my index finger in his mouth.  A pacifier would not do it; rocking and coddling would not soothe him;  nothing seemed to calm him until I let him suck on my finger.  Don’t worry, I always washed first.

One of the hardest weeks in my life came when my son was older.  During the summer following his third grade year, Scott went to the same North Carolina church camp we had visited when he was young.  (I always wondered if he was going to try to find that waitress again!)  This time he was away from all of his family, for a week; and I was without him, for a week.  He was over 300 miles from home in a place I could not be, all week.  I did not think that week would ever end, but it did.  When Scott arrived home I gave him the biggest hug of his life.  Then, we talked.  Was he homesick?  He told us he was.  Did I cry while he was gone?  Absolutely.  Would I do the whole thing all over again?  In a heartbeat.  He would, too.

The older I get, the more I realize that Scott does not belong to me.  I’ve known it all along (read my earlier blog entitled “Thank you, God”).  It’s just that as I get older, he spends more and more time away from me.  It’s hard.  He is one of my best friends of all time.  And when you are away from one of your best friends, your heart just doesn’t feel quite the same.

Happy Birthday, Scott.  May every minute of your life find you growing in knowledge of the grace of the One who made you.  May you find joy and happiness with His Spirit living in you, and may you always be totally content with His love and His plan for your life.  I love you.

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

Feather

Our Golden Retriever puppy is now three months old and weighs close to twenty pounds.  He was six pounds when we got him and will be between sixty-five and seventy pounds when he is full grown.  He has outgrown his cute little cuddly puppy stage and passed into his hell-raising, chew it up, dig it up, tear it up, and pee on it phase.  In the last week alone we have witnessed the devastating demise of three 12″ playground balls, four pairs of tennis shoes, 1 decorative fall scarecrow, 2 rolls of paper towels, 2 cucumber plants (in what used to be a garden), 4 watermelon plants, and 3 carrot plants.  I am sure the casualty list will grow in the days and weeks ahead.

In spite of the destruction, the kids are really having fun with Feather these days.  Actually, I believe they kind of identify with each other.  One of their favorite games is “Ready, set, go!”  This is a homemade outside game where one person stands next to Feather and utters the words, “Ready…Set…Go!” and then takes off across the yard with Feather fast in pursuit.  When he was younger he could not catch them.  Now, he is nipping at their knees and trying to catch a loose t-shirt in his mouth so he can bring them to a halt.  He loves it and so do the kids, at least until he bites an arm or a leg by mistake.  That’s when they yell, “No! Feather!,”  and the game comes to an end.

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