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Andrew Elisabeth Jenny Melody Gabriel Jeremy
Our boys
Posted By Andrew on May 22, 2010
Gabe is absolutely thrilled with his little brother. Before you know it, we’ll all three be fishing and camping together . . .
Birth Story
Posted By Andrew on May 22, 2010
Warning: this is not likely to be of interest to men (although written by one) and may even bore most women, but here are a few details about Jeremy’s arrival. If you still think babies are stork droppings or some such nonsense, better stop reading now. Your innocence will be obliterated.
We had a wonderful midwife for our first home birth nearly nine years ago. The second child was born in a relatively remote corner of South America, and we opted to have an unassisted home birth. It was a beautiful experience, and after we returned to SC, we wanted to do the same with our third child’s birth. We actually found a doctor who was willing to provide prenatal care for Elizabeth but supported our decision to have the baby at home with just the two of us. In the event of complications, the doctor was ready to take over if we came to his hospital.
With this fourth pregnancy we hoped to repeat that pattern, but unfortunately, this doctor’s hospital stopped delivering babies at the beginning of 2010. (Thank you, frivolous lawsuits and greedy lawyers!) This fine doctor was still willing to provide prenatal care, but our Plan B would simply be to go to a different hospital’s emergency room. I could just imagine the lectures I would have to hear if we went to the ER for help with a difficult delivery after having received no prenatal care there and after attempting an unassisted home birth.
Maybe it was because we had no viable Plan B that I felt so much more apprehensive about this birth than any of the others. On a number of occasions late in the pregnancy I asked for prayer from our church because of the foreboding feeling I had about this birth. Elizabeth and I both felt that in spite of those feelings, God was not telling us to change the original plan. We believed that if He was confirming that was the right decision, then He also would confirm it with a successful and safe birth. We prayed many, many times that God would choose to glorify Himself by blessing us with our best birth experience yet, and He did so, but in a very different way than we would have suggested.
A few minutes after midnight on the morning of the 18th, Elizabeth woke up and realized that labor was starting. Since it was still relatively light, she opted to let me sleep and got up to do a few loads of laundry, do some cleaning, and prepare the house for her maternity leave. After several hours, things seemed to pause, so she went back to bed and got three more hours of sleep.
When I woke up a little before six, Elizabeth informed me that we would probably be welcoming our baby before the end of the day. We had some breakfast, sent the girls next door to spend the day with their Demrovski friends, and sent Gabe to Uncle Motz and Aunt Paige’s house.
To encourage the slightly irregular labor, we took a four mile walk down the old railroad bed near our house. There was a sense of excitement that the day had finally arrived, but we were both much more sober and quiet than was typical of us in the early stages of labor. When we returned, contractions were fairly regular but only moderately intense, so we drove to town, returned some items at the library, and went for another leisurely walk in the lovely Hopeland Gardens.
By the time we returned from that excursion, we were down to serious business, although a quick exam revealed that the progress so far was not encouraging—barely three centimeters. The contractions intensified, and Elizabeth told me the pain was not centered as she remembered it from previous labors, but at the front of the uterus. Another exam revealed that hours of extremely intense labor had done almost nothing for dilation, and I realized then that the baby’s head was well forward from the cervical opening. By this stage of labor, I expected the cervix to be much further forward, but the contractions were putting pressure on the front uterine wall while the cervix at the back received only indirect pressure from the head. No wonder progress was exceptionally painful and slow!
I tried several times to gently realign the head, but after a few contractions, it always slid away from the opening again. Finally Elizabeth told me that she could not possibly handle a night of this labor after having endured it all day, so we agreed that if there was no improvement within a short time, we would go to the ER. Needless to say, we were praying constantly, and I prayed aloud through many contractions, asking God for strength and acknowledging our utter inability to help ourselves.
I am not an emotional man, but I was exhausted and didn’t think I could watch my sweetheart work so hard for so little result much longer. I had to keep smiling confidently into her eyes, helping her breathe or pray through each contraction. I kept back the tears through sheer willpower, and promised myself that once this was all over, I would find a dark corner somewhere, curl into a fetal position, and cry for an hour or two. I was silently asking God why He had not chosen to honor Himself by answering our prayers when He spoke to me. I hesitate to say God spoke to me when that claim is so flippantly made by so many, but I do know that He distinctly told me, “You’ve prayed that I would glorify Myself by giving you an easy experience. That has more to do with your convenience than My glory. Would I not receive much more glory by rescuing you from an impossible dilemma? Today, I will be moved by the prayers of My people, and you will hold your son before midnight.”
I told Elizabeth what God had told me about glorifying Himself through our desperate need, but I didn’t have the faith to tell her that the baby would definitely be born on the 18th. That was a mistake on my part, and I should have simply gone out on the limb of faith and declared that truth. I did call our pastor and asked him to notify some people at church that we were almost ready to give up unless the tide turned quickly. He began rallying people to pray, and only fifteen minutes later, we had our first positive sign as the mucus plug was lost. A short time later, Elizabeth began shaking violently and she managed to praise God triumphantly through chattering teeth as we realized that she was in transition.
The pushing stage has always been short and exciting for her, but this time it was excruciatingly difficult work for over an hour. I had no time even to look at a clock, but I was beginning to wonder whether God was remembering the midnight deadline. Once as I went for more hot compresses, God spoke to me again and told me that at that very moment, many people were praying for us and He was hearing and accepting their prayers. I felt an almost physical sensation of loving hands all around us, and I allowed myself one quick rush of weary, grateful tears before brightening up and heading back to my sweetheart.
Baby’s heartbeat had been good every time we checked it, but after the head had been in the birth canal for a while without emerging, the Doppler revealed what I considered an alarming drop during contractions. I didn’t want to frighten Elizabeth, but I felt it was urgent that this baby be born without delay, so I had her try an extremely uncomfortable but effective position: flat on the back with knees drawn up. Within minutes, a big head with lots of dark hair had emerged. As I began suctioning, I noticed the cord was wrapped extremely tightly around his neck. We had the same problem at Gabriel’s birth, and it had been a simple matter to slip the cord over his head and slide him into this world. This cord was pulled so tight I couldn’t even get it to the baby’s chin, much less slide it over his head. I managed to unwrap the scalpel from its sterile packaging with trembling hands, cut the cord, and caught Jeremy Carlin as he was born in a geyser of cord blood.
The time was 11:55 PM.
Jeremy’s color was great, and although I didn’t get an Apgar score, it would have been excellent. Within moments of birth, while we were still wiping blood off him, he was loudly and industriously sucking a little thumb. A few moments later, he was wrapped in a blanket and snuggled up to his mommy while I continued to scurry around, cleaning up and praising God with every breath.
Now that it’s over, I have to agree with God. He receives more glory from our deliverance than from our convenience. There is no way to describe the bonding effect the whole experience had for us, and we’ve never been closer in our life. There’s also no way to describe the depth of thanksgiving we both feel every time we look at our strong, healthy son, our little champion. I’ve had the priceless privilege of being the first one to touch each of my four children as they came into the world, but never before has it been such a profoundly moving experience. There are no words to communicate the joy and relief I felt as I scooped up that warm, wet little body, looked into those big, alert eyes and said, “Welcome, my son. Mommy and I are SO glad you are here!”
I told God several times on that day, “I know You are completely wise. I know that if I knew everything You do, I would choose exactly the same kind of labor, but I don’t know everything and I don’t understand, and I just need help!” Today, if I could turn time back a week and if I could choose either a textbook delivery or the one we had, I wouldn’t hesitate: I would choose exactly what God chose. I would choose an experience that exhausts our feeble strength, that reveals God’s mighty power, that confirms the strength of a praying church, and that makes us treasure each other and our son like we never dreamed we could.
Oh, by the way, I was too busy to ever get into that dark corner for the cry. Maybe it’s still pent up in there somewhere, and one day I’ll spill my coffee or something and just lose it. If you see me sobbing hysterically somewhere, don’t worry. Just remind me that it’s all over.
Baby Pictures
Posted By Andrew on May 20, 2010
Minutes after the birth. Reality hasn’t even dawned yet for the exhausted Mommy. She’s my hero, no doubt about it.
Sisters were starting to wonder whether there really was a baby in there. Now they have proof that Mommy and Daddy knew what they were talking about.
Sleeping like a baby.
Rare waking moment.
Daddy’s boy.
First photo
Posted By Andrew on May 19, 2010
We had narrowed down our list of names in recent months (my personal choice, Murgatroyd Maynard Melchizedek Max, didn’t make it out of the first round of voting). When the birth turned out to be exceptionally tough, and this little guy emerged with a cord strangle-tight around his neck, and he still managed to be healthy and strong, there was only one name that fit—Jeremy Carlin. Carlin means “little champion” and he fully earned the right to bear it. Without a doubt, his mommy deserves to share it with him, too.
Update: weight was 8 lb 10 oz, length 22 inches
He’s Here!
Posted By Andrew on May 19, 2010
Jeremy Carlin arrived at 11:55 PM on Tuesday the 18th. It was by far our toughest birth challenge to date, but it has all ended well and he’s a handsome young man with lots of black hair. More details eventually.