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 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.

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. 

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.

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.

My Field of Dreams

I am a huge Cincinnati Reds fan. 

Why on earth would someone raised in Alabama root with sincere fervor for a team that is located in a city more than five hundred miles away?  Well, there are several reasons.  First, I have always loved the game of baseball.  It is a thinking man’s sport, full of strategy and statistic.  Second,  I had the privilege of playing baseball as I grew up.  This gives me a deeper understanding and appreciation of those who still play today.  Of course, neither of these reasons gives foundation for being a Reds fan.  For that loyalty I have my father to thank. 

I loved my Dad.  He passed away in 2002.  My love for my father is central to my love for baseball.  It will sound cliche, but the one thing we always had in common was baseball, more specifically Cincinnati Reds baseball.  I could talk to him about the Reds any time and it would always turn out to be an excellent conversation.  That was not the case about everything.

I still remember going to Riverfront Stadium with my father to witness the Big Red Machine in action in the 1970s.  Back then I did not understand the game as well as I do today, but I had my father all to myself.  I asked him question after question and he answered every one of them, glad to share the knowledge he had acquired.

As I got older I decided I did not need to ask any more questions.  I had all of the answers and my father needed to listen to me.  Needless to say that did not work out very well.  My arrogance hurt my relationship with Dad quite a bit.  Fortunately for me I was able to apologize to him as I grew older.  By God’s grace I quit trying to share all of my knowledge with him, and I started listening again, just like I did at Riverfront back in the ’70s.  Our relationship healed, and all was right the night he died.

In the 1989 movie Field of Dreams based on a novel by William Kinsella, there are many memorable lines.  One of these is “If you build it, he will come.”  I don’t think there is much that I would not set out to build if it meant I could spend some simple time with my father again.  If I could play catch with him or watch a baseball game with him one more time, it would be an experience beyond words.  I am sure that is why I always find myself in tears at the end of this 1989 movie.

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