Our three-year long saga of select summer baseball ended last week with Coby's team, the T.H.A. Stix (T.H.A. stands for Thomas Hitting Academy) winning the Super Series 11U national championship in Round Rock, Texas.
Coby had a wonderful tournament and as his dad I couldn't have been more proud of his accomplishment. Not only was he as good as ever on the mound pitching, but he got hot at the plate and won Offensive MVP honors for the whole tournament. That's something we'll be proud of for awhile, considering he's struggled the last couple of years with the bat at times and had been dropped to ninth in the batting order late this summer.
But he got in one of those grooves last week. It was one of those type deals where everyone in the stands and on the field expected him to hit the ball out of the park every time he came to the plate. He finished with three bombs and was 6 for his last 9 over the final four games.
We had a good time and it was nice to win the big trophy finally. But the entire week I found myself thinking about a lot of things as we went to the ballpark day after day with 25 other teams participating in the World Series. I thought a lot about all the times we've traveled all over parts of five states the last three years, playing select baseball. I would guess that over the last three years Coby has played in between 175-200 baseball games, which is more than a major leaguer in one season. That's a lot of baseball.
But we've missed a lot of church along the way, and deep down that bothers me. We do all we can as a team when we're on the road to give the boys something spiritual on Sundays -- we haven't missed a devotional in three years and I honestly believe our boys are hearing the Word in some fashion while still playing baseball.
But I kept looking at the hundreds of people at the World Series last week and I just couldn't help but wonder -- does EVERYONE at these tournaments every weekend hold a 10-minute devotional with their players? How many times in the last three years has any one of a nameless young man heard anything about Jesus on a Sunday while at a ballpark?
I'm not one of those people who think it's a sin if you miss church just because the doors are open on a Sunday or Wednesday night. Going to church never saved anyone and it never will. What saves someone is that still small voice, and it can be heard anywhere at any time.
But I also believe that church should be a top priority, especially for believers. I hadn't been to a church service in over a month when I attended this past Sunday, and I could feel the groaning in my spirit. I'd missed it. I can only imagine how much my 12-year-old son had missed it all these weekends, despite the little nibbles and nobbles he was getting through a Sunday morning devotional with his teammates.
There is a huge mission field out there, away from church, and I believe for some reason God has put me and Coby on the baseball field around these boys for a reason. Not as an excuse to miss worship. But as a witness to the Light.
I'm not quite sure where all this leads but I really feel a calling to do something in terms of ministry for these baseball kids who are pulled away from church, and their families. Not sure if it means expanding the devotionals to include other teams or even writing devotional booklets specifically geared for young baseball kids. But the message needs to get out as always and we as Christians have to adapt and adjust to God's will.
I don't know, maybe it's the baseball itself. At some point as a parent we have to put our foot down and say you know what, playing 50 baseball games a year doesn't matter if your child ends up missing two months of church and Sunday School. Again, going to church and being involved doesn't guarantee you anything, but it's sure better than a lot of the alternatives.
We do enjoy baseball, and Coby has a talent for it that I believe God has given him. So there's the quandary. But I would ask for prayer that God would show me a way to mix the two and make it a ministry with Kingdom goals while we enjoy the game. And our worship time.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Fearfully and Wonderfully Made
The outpouring of God's love and grace for me and my family was nearly overwhelming this past weekend when we had to rush our week-old premature baby girl to Shreveport's Sutton's Children's Hospital via ambulance Friday night.
There's nothing more helpless as a parent than watching EMTs load your four-pound baby girl into an ambulance and tell you that per hospital policy you have to follow them, without riding with your child.
Lily had experienced some dehydration issues in the first week of her life caused by a handful of different things, not the least of which was that she simply has entered this life way too early. She and Mom have been nursing well, but a variety of factors -- including an infected umbilical site on her belly button -- sent Jeannie back to the doctor with her Friday on a trip that eventually landed us in Shreveport.
Lily's bilirubin level (don't ask me to explain it, just Google it) had jumped back up to around 19 Friday. That's high but not dangerously high, or so the absolutely fabulous nurses and doctors at Sutton's told us. The important thing was to put the baby back under the bililights and work on her jaundice while also treating the infection on her belly button. The bad part about that was we had to be separated from her at all times outside of the three-hour intervals when she needed to nurse.
Lily instantly began to improve and by Sunday was out from under the lights. We received some much needed tips on watching for her dehydration, which is very common in premature babies we were told. She is nursing now much much better and longer, and we are making sure she gets more than she needs by supplementing her diet with a few millileters of breastmilk and/or formula at feeding time. As of this morning Lily has gained nine ounces in a week, based on her weight last Monday at the pediatrician's office. Since Friday alone she gained seven ounces in less than five days. She is much more alert and stays awake more often (high bilirubin makes a baby sleepy, which can cause them all kinds of trouble getting started at feeding time) and we have been instructed to be more careful with her in terms of making sure we are as clean and germ-free as possible when handling her. With all this in hand we were discharged and returned home Monday after the longest four-day weekend of our lives.
That's the personal update on Lily. The great thing for us as parents is that not only is our little baby well but we are now reunited with our other children, who had been scattered to all points over the weekend. We had some nice little family time Monday night and yours truly is back at work today, with mounds of catch-up stuff to do before going officially on vacation next week for Coby's annual World Series.
A couple of observations I wanted to make about our weekend at Sutton's Children's Hospital. First of all, I can't imagine a better facility for parents to take their sick baby. From the time we walked into the door -- actually before that, with the nurses in the ambulance who came over to assist Lily's transfer -- we felt like every person who came in contact with our child truly and deeply cared for her and her well-being. You know, it wasn't like some times when you might go to a medical facility and you feel like you're just providing someone's paycheck.
We arrived at the hospital about 10 minutes after Lily and within 15 minutes one of the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) doctors came out to the lobby to talk with us. By then they had the baby under the lights and were starting the antibiotics. After briefly talking with the doctor, who was just as caring and open as the nurses were, we were allowed to go see Lily for the first time.
She had been placed in an isolation room, away from the other premies, because she actually had already been home and out of a hospital. The other children there had come straight from a delivery room or via ambulance from another hospital. Every child at Sutton's NICU has a personal nurse at their bedside 24/7. They can't cough, pee or poop without medical personnel knowing about it instantly.
The care Lily received this weekend was unbelievable. Her doctor at the NICU hugged us and the baby repeatedly when we left Monday; I can only imagine the love and care you might get while staying a longer amount of time. Within a matter of days Lily had become a member of the family. She was repeatedly held, stroked and hugged throughout the weekend, and it wasn't just me or her mother or her siblings or family.
The second thing is that while I am so thankful for these dedicated medical personnel, I am also quite saddened and my eyes were opened once again to the tragedy that abortion has brought to our nation. Sutton's NICU has 41 spots open for premature babies, and as of Friday night when we arrived 34 of those spots were filled. That was 34 tiny, tiny babies, all of them born long before their due dates, and every single one of them on some level was fighting for its life.
We saw babies that made Lily look like a high school senior. No kidding. We saw one baby that was just barely over two pounds -- I could have held it in the palm of my hand. Most of the babies were in their incubator boxes which were covered with thick blankets, to simulate the dark conditions of the womb. Tiny, tiny, tiny little babies.
And every one of them was fighting to stay alive. Some of them had been there for weeks, and we noticed that some never seemed to have any family by their side. We asked about this and were told that some babies have to stay at the NICU for so long that their parents/family have to go back to their hometowns, work during the week, and them come back over the weekends.
Yet anyone can walk into an abortion clinic and immediately snuff out the life of one of these tremendous fighters at any given moment in America. No questions asked, no crime committed. We have ignorant Senators in the U.S. Congress belittling the banning of partial-birth abortions during the Sotomayor hearings this week while some little two-pound, two-month premature baby boy battles for every breath with a patient nurse caring for him every second while his parents work to pay the bill.
You tell me. Does that sound like something that should be decided by some congressman or judge? Or does it sound like cold-blooded murder?
Anyone who is pro-choice or pro-abortion, I would encourage you to take a tour of a NICU facility similar to the one at Sutton's in Shreveport. If you can come out of there with the belief that abortion is something that should be defended, after watching those little babies fight to stay alive, then I would truly say there is little hope left for our nation.
God bless the little children and the little babies, and the ones who have been gifted with the ability to care for them. And I thank Him from the bottom of my heart for Lily and all my children, and for my wife, who helps give them life from the time they are born until they will one day leave us.
And we thank all of our friends and family who helped us through the past couple of weeks. Your phone calls, text messaging (thank God also for Facebook!), visits and prayers were intimately appreciated. God truly cares about us and can take even the darkest times in our lives to teach us some of the best things about living in the Light.
There's nothing more helpless as a parent than watching EMTs load your four-pound baby girl into an ambulance and tell you that per hospital policy you have to follow them, without riding with your child.
Lily had experienced some dehydration issues in the first week of her life caused by a handful of different things, not the least of which was that she simply has entered this life way too early. She and Mom have been nursing well, but a variety of factors -- including an infected umbilical site on her belly button -- sent Jeannie back to the doctor with her Friday on a trip that eventually landed us in Shreveport.
Lily's bilirubin level (don't ask me to explain it, just Google it) had jumped back up to around 19 Friday. That's high but not dangerously high, or so the absolutely fabulous nurses and doctors at Sutton's told us. The important thing was to put the baby back under the bililights and work on her jaundice while also treating the infection on her belly button. The bad part about that was we had to be separated from her at all times outside of the three-hour intervals when she needed to nurse.
Lily instantly began to improve and by Sunday was out from under the lights. We received some much needed tips on watching for her dehydration, which is very common in premature babies we were told. She is nursing now much much better and longer, and we are making sure she gets more than she needs by supplementing her diet with a few millileters of breastmilk and/or formula at feeding time. As of this morning Lily has gained nine ounces in a week, based on her weight last Monday at the pediatrician's office. Since Friday alone she gained seven ounces in less than five days. She is much more alert and stays awake more often (high bilirubin makes a baby sleepy, which can cause them all kinds of trouble getting started at feeding time) and we have been instructed to be more careful with her in terms of making sure we are as clean and germ-free as possible when handling her. With all this in hand we were discharged and returned home Monday after the longest four-day weekend of our lives.
That's the personal update on Lily. The great thing for us as parents is that not only is our little baby well but we are now reunited with our other children, who had been scattered to all points over the weekend. We had some nice little family time Monday night and yours truly is back at work today, with mounds of catch-up stuff to do before going officially on vacation next week for Coby's annual World Series.
A couple of observations I wanted to make about our weekend at Sutton's Children's Hospital. First of all, I can't imagine a better facility for parents to take their sick baby. From the time we walked into the door -- actually before that, with the nurses in the ambulance who came over to assist Lily's transfer -- we felt like every person who came in contact with our child truly and deeply cared for her and her well-being. You know, it wasn't like some times when you might go to a medical facility and you feel like you're just providing someone's paycheck.
We arrived at the hospital about 10 minutes after Lily and within 15 minutes one of the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) doctors came out to the lobby to talk with us. By then they had the baby under the lights and were starting the antibiotics. After briefly talking with the doctor, who was just as caring and open as the nurses were, we were allowed to go see Lily for the first time.
She had been placed in an isolation room, away from the other premies, because she actually had already been home and out of a hospital. The other children there had come straight from a delivery room or via ambulance from another hospital. Every child at Sutton's NICU has a personal nurse at their bedside 24/7. They can't cough, pee or poop without medical personnel knowing about it instantly.
The care Lily received this weekend was unbelievable. Her doctor at the NICU hugged us and the baby repeatedly when we left Monday; I can only imagine the love and care you might get while staying a longer amount of time. Within a matter of days Lily had become a member of the family. She was repeatedly held, stroked and hugged throughout the weekend, and it wasn't just me or her mother or her siblings or family.
The second thing is that while I am so thankful for these dedicated medical personnel, I am also quite saddened and my eyes were opened once again to the tragedy that abortion has brought to our nation. Sutton's NICU has 41 spots open for premature babies, and as of Friday night when we arrived 34 of those spots were filled. That was 34 tiny, tiny babies, all of them born long before their due dates, and every single one of them on some level was fighting for its life.
We saw babies that made Lily look like a high school senior. No kidding. We saw one baby that was just barely over two pounds -- I could have held it in the palm of my hand. Most of the babies were in their incubator boxes which were covered with thick blankets, to simulate the dark conditions of the womb. Tiny, tiny, tiny little babies.
And every one of them was fighting to stay alive. Some of them had been there for weeks, and we noticed that some never seemed to have any family by their side. We asked about this and were told that some babies have to stay at the NICU for so long that their parents/family have to go back to their hometowns, work during the week, and them come back over the weekends.
Yet anyone can walk into an abortion clinic and immediately snuff out the life of one of these tremendous fighters at any given moment in America. No questions asked, no crime committed. We have ignorant Senators in the U.S. Congress belittling the banning of partial-birth abortions during the Sotomayor hearings this week while some little two-pound, two-month premature baby boy battles for every breath with a patient nurse caring for him every second while his parents work to pay the bill.
You tell me. Does that sound like something that should be decided by some congressman or judge? Or does it sound like cold-blooded murder?
Anyone who is pro-choice or pro-abortion, I would encourage you to take a tour of a NICU facility similar to the one at Sutton's in Shreveport. If you can come out of there with the belief that abortion is something that should be defended, after watching those little babies fight to stay alive, then I would truly say there is little hope left for our nation.
God bless the little children and the little babies, and the ones who have been gifted with the ability to care for them. And I thank Him from the bottom of my heart for Lily and all my children, and for my wife, who helps give them life from the time they are born until they will one day leave us.
And we thank all of our friends and family who helped us through the past couple of weeks. Your phone calls, text messaging (thank God also for Facebook!), visits and prayers were intimately appreciated. God truly cares about us and can take even the darkest times in our lives to teach us some of the best things about living in the Light.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
It's All In His Timing
Our children's train is now complete.
Lily Ann came rushing into the world officially at 11:34 a.m. on Thursday, July 2, 2009, weighing just a feather shy of five pounds. To put that in perspective, I usually gain five pounds every 10 hours, which is about the time it took Jeannie to deliver our newest little girl once her water unexpectedly gushed forth early Thursday morning.
Jeannie has referred to Lily as our "little caboose," which is fitting -- she is the last car in the train for sure. We took that means to an end about an hour after the delivery when my wife was whisked away to the operating room for a quick little procedure that hopefully will dry up the well, so to speak.
Having Lily and all that it entails is really no problem for us. We've had three diffferent prior experiences to get it right and whether we succeeded or not experience counts.
But when you are literally not prepared for it, it takes a few days to comprehend and put all the thoughts on paper, you know? Besides, I haven't had access to a viable computer for blogging so I apologize for the lateness of this commentary.
A couple of entries ago I mentioned some of the memorable highlights of each of our children's births. Lily apparently sensed she wasn't getting enough attention already and wanted to make a splash.
Of course we fully expected to be early with the delivery -- Jeannie's never been late with a single child. Coby was a week early, and Abby was induced a week early. Melody literally came on her due date -- Jeannie's water broke at five minutes after midnight on the due date. So, we were expecting Aug. 2 or a little before to be the time Lily arrived.
All that to say this -- we were nowhere near ready for this baby to be here. When I say we had nothing, we had NOTHING prepared. No diapers. No wipes. Certainly no clothes. As of about 10 days ago, we hadn't discussed where the baby would even sleep.
I should have noticed the signs. Around Monday of last week Jeannie started worrying more about such things as sleeping arrangements. We have two bedrooms in which to house four children, and three of them are girls. For me, the math never added up other than putting three girls in one room.
That, of course, was not an ideal solution. Melody has been good rooming with Abby but quite frankly wasn't up much for a second baby sister to be sharing a room with -- especially with her big brother Coby all snug and comfy in his own private room.
So Mom and Dad had to make an executive decision, meaning we approached Coby about at least sharing his room with his tiny baby sister for a few weeks-months-years. I've got to admit my selfish nature would never have allowed me to do such a thing. But my son isn't selfish. He readily agreed to the arrangement and was quite excited at the prospect. I'm not sure how excited he will be once Lily actually moves into the room, but that will play out later.
Jeannie was busy for about three days moving beds around, vacuuming, cleaning. By Wednesday she'd put up Abby's new toddler bed and moved the old baby bed into Coby's room, where it was still about halfway put back together. We were concerned about Abby adjusting to the toddler bed, but she has made the switch as smoothly as could have been expected or hoped for.
I came home Tuesday evening from work to find that every stitch of clothing I owned had been washed and dried. That hasn't happened since the day we exchanged wedding vows, and even before then my own mother never had my clean clothes meter at 100 percent. I should have noticed something supernatural was taking place but...
I got sick. Sometime between Tuesday night and Wednesday morning, some sort of stomach bug hit me with a vengeance. I bravely trudged into the office Wednesday morning but couldn't make it past 9 before heading back home. Jeannie was sitting on the couch folding more clothes when I arrived and said something about my stomach churning. I went straight to the bedroom and climbed into bed, where I slept soundly for nearly five hours. I woke up, watched some TV for about 45 minutes or so before crawling back to bed and getting in another couple hours of slumber, complete with chills and stomach cramping. I felt good enough to munch on a small bowl of oatmeal with toast later Wednesday evening but hit the sack early again, hoping more rest would allow me to return to the office Thursday. Besides, we'd planned a busy Fourth of July weekend excursion with Stu and Lauren to Stu's parents' house on Lake Jacksonville, with plans to leave Thursday night. I would certainly feel rested and ready for Independence Day.
I was sleeping soundly before I remember opening my eyes facing the bedside table. The clock said 1:45. Jeannie was hovering over me, and said something like "you're going to think I'm crazy but I think my water just broke."
I did think she was crazy. We were a full month away from Lily's due date. Babies don't come that early, I was fairly certain.
"What do you mean, your water broke?"
"Either that or I'm really going to the bathroom."
Without getting too graphic here, let's just say we both quickly determined the problem wasn't kidney- or bladder-related. I was pretty certain she was sure of what she was feeling when she told me she'd first felt the sensation around midnight but, rather than wake me up for a false alarm had waited to make sure. At some point she became sure -- she had already packed a bag and done her hair before rousing me from slumber.
Thankfully Donnis was available to come and stay with our other children rather than us waking them in the middle of the night and trying to find a spot to drop them. There was still a part of me thinking this was just some sort of weird coincidence and that we'd be back home before the sun came up, therefore I didn't pack a bag for myself.
We arrived at the hospital in Marshall about 3 a.m., and Jeannie was whisked into a tiny exam room in the LDR unit. We sat there for about 45 minutes or so and a nurse confirmed the bag of water had ruptured. A quick call to the doctor got us admitted to the hospital, and moments later we were in one of the bigger, more comfortable LDR rooms.
Once I knew Jeannie was settled, I grabbed a quick nap on the pull-out bed in the room. The doctor arrived a little after seven, confirmed everything we'd already been told and then did a quick sonogram to determine if the baby's head had even dropped, which was something I'd feared all morning.
Yep, Lily had turned and her head was in the birth canal. Everything was on go, and labor officially underway. Four hours or so later, we had our newest little girl -- a full four weeks before her due date.
The blessings of this experience have been tremendous for us. It's such a blessing to have a) a family that is always ready to help and be there for you in times of stress, b) friends who are like family, and c) a church that supports and loves one another. We had people going back to the house to try and make some semblance of order for a baby that wasn't expected for weeks. We have had food delivered to our house ever since we came home, and the only thing I've had to make for anyone while Jeannie recovers is Pop Tarts at breakfast.
The biggest blessing of all, however, is Lily Ann. When she was born I could literally hold her in my forearm and her legs not touch my chest. A lot of that is that she still pulls them up into a fetal position most of the time, especially while sleeping. It's hard to look at her and imagine she still should be in her mother's womb, yet she is going to develop over the last month in utero out of utero.
Our kids have been great too. Coby and Melody went nearly 10 years as the two kids in the family, and they've had a lot of responsibility put on them to help out around the house since Abby was born two years ago. The two big kids were just as excited as us about the newest arrival. I'm still not quite certain Abby full comprehends Lily's place with us, but she has gotten in probably more kisses and hugs on her little sister than anyone. The biggest challenge we face here in the early going with her, apparently, is convincing her that Lily is actually not a dog or cat, because all Abby wants to do is "pet" her.
No, I never expected to have Lily get her so quickly. But it just goes to show you that God is in control of our lives whether we want to admit it or accept it. This could not have happened as smoothly as it has without His hand in it every step of the way. I firmly believe that my long period of sleep the day before the birth was divinely generated, because I was rested and ready to go for the long day Thursday and into the weekend.
And finally, Jeannie is the perfect mom. One thing I've learned in 16 years of marriage (as of Friday the 10th) is that my wife has one of the strongest wills of anyone I've ever known. She nursed our older two children and had planned on doing so with Abby, but for whatever reason the nursing thing never really clicked between those two and Abby had to settle mostly for formula. I knew this bothered Jeannie for a long time and once we found out we were expecting Lily I began praying that the nursing experience would be a pleasant one this time around so she could enjoy what only mothers and babies can enjoy one more time.
The first few hours were typically and predictably tough, although Lily had shown very promising signs of wanting to nurse. Long story short, after a couple of good cries brought on by the hormones and some tough moments, Jeannie pushed through with the determination that has become her trademark and mom and baby are doing extremely well at feeding time. And still, remarkably, she's found little bits of time over the past few days to stay connected with the other three children in the house, especially little Abby who is still our baby as well and just needs attention. The older kids help with that as well as me trying to give as much as a dad can, but sometimes, well, sometimes a two-year-old just needs her mommy. And Jeannie has been there as well as being there for little Lily as well. It's a delicate balancing act that only moms can appreciate and understand.
So there it is. We expanded the family as expected but much earlier than expected. It's been a great experience, and God has been evident every moment of the journey.
Lily Ann came rushing into the world officially at 11:34 a.m. on Thursday, July 2, 2009, weighing just a feather shy of five pounds. To put that in perspective, I usually gain five pounds every 10 hours, which is about the time it took Jeannie to deliver our newest little girl once her water unexpectedly gushed forth early Thursday morning.
Jeannie has referred to Lily as our "little caboose," which is fitting -- she is the last car in the train for sure. We took that means to an end about an hour after the delivery when my wife was whisked away to the operating room for a quick little procedure that hopefully will dry up the well, so to speak.
Having Lily and all that it entails is really no problem for us. We've had three diffferent prior experiences to get it right and whether we succeeded or not experience counts.
But when you are literally not prepared for it, it takes a few days to comprehend and put all the thoughts on paper, you know? Besides, I haven't had access to a viable computer for blogging so I apologize for the lateness of this commentary.
A couple of entries ago I mentioned some of the memorable highlights of each of our children's births. Lily apparently sensed she wasn't getting enough attention already and wanted to make a splash.
Of course we fully expected to be early with the delivery -- Jeannie's never been late with a single child. Coby was a week early, and Abby was induced a week early. Melody literally came on her due date -- Jeannie's water broke at five minutes after midnight on the due date. So, we were expecting Aug. 2 or a little before to be the time Lily arrived.
All that to say this -- we were nowhere near ready for this baby to be here. When I say we had nothing, we had NOTHING prepared. No diapers. No wipes. Certainly no clothes. As of about 10 days ago, we hadn't discussed where the baby would even sleep.
I should have noticed the signs. Around Monday of last week Jeannie started worrying more about such things as sleeping arrangements. We have two bedrooms in which to house four children, and three of them are girls. For me, the math never added up other than putting three girls in one room.
That, of course, was not an ideal solution. Melody has been good rooming with Abby but quite frankly wasn't up much for a second baby sister to be sharing a room with -- especially with her big brother Coby all snug and comfy in his own private room.
So Mom and Dad had to make an executive decision, meaning we approached Coby about at least sharing his room with his tiny baby sister for a few weeks-months-years. I've got to admit my selfish nature would never have allowed me to do such a thing. But my son isn't selfish. He readily agreed to the arrangement and was quite excited at the prospect. I'm not sure how excited he will be once Lily actually moves into the room, but that will play out later.
Jeannie was busy for about three days moving beds around, vacuuming, cleaning. By Wednesday she'd put up Abby's new toddler bed and moved the old baby bed into Coby's room, where it was still about halfway put back together. We were concerned about Abby adjusting to the toddler bed, but she has made the switch as smoothly as could have been expected or hoped for.
I came home Tuesday evening from work to find that every stitch of clothing I owned had been washed and dried. That hasn't happened since the day we exchanged wedding vows, and even before then my own mother never had my clean clothes meter at 100 percent. I should have noticed something supernatural was taking place but...
I got sick. Sometime between Tuesday night and Wednesday morning, some sort of stomach bug hit me with a vengeance. I bravely trudged into the office Wednesday morning but couldn't make it past 9 before heading back home. Jeannie was sitting on the couch folding more clothes when I arrived and said something about my stomach churning. I went straight to the bedroom and climbed into bed, where I slept soundly for nearly five hours. I woke up, watched some TV for about 45 minutes or so before crawling back to bed and getting in another couple hours of slumber, complete with chills and stomach cramping. I felt good enough to munch on a small bowl of oatmeal with toast later Wednesday evening but hit the sack early again, hoping more rest would allow me to return to the office Thursday. Besides, we'd planned a busy Fourth of July weekend excursion with Stu and Lauren to Stu's parents' house on Lake Jacksonville, with plans to leave Thursday night. I would certainly feel rested and ready for Independence Day.
I was sleeping soundly before I remember opening my eyes facing the bedside table. The clock said 1:45. Jeannie was hovering over me, and said something like "you're going to think I'm crazy but I think my water just broke."
I did think she was crazy. We were a full month away from Lily's due date. Babies don't come that early, I was fairly certain.
"What do you mean, your water broke?"
"Either that or I'm really going to the bathroom."
Without getting too graphic here, let's just say we both quickly determined the problem wasn't kidney- or bladder-related. I was pretty certain she was sure of what she was feeling when she told me she'd first felt the sensation around midnight but, rather than wake me up for a false alarm had waited to make sure. At some point she became sure -- she had already packed a bag and done her hair before rousing me from slumber.
Thankfully Donnis was available to come and stay with our other children rather than us waking them in the middle of the night and trying to find a spot to drop them. There was still a part of me thinking this was just some sort of weird coincidence and that we'd be back home before the sun came up, therefore I didn't pack a bag for myself.
We arrived at the hospital in Marshall about 3 a.m., and Jeannie was whisked into a tiny exam room in the LDR unit. We sat there for about 45 minutes or so and a nurse confirmed the bag of water had ruptured. A quick call to the doctor got us admitted to the hospital, and moments later we were in one of the bigger, more comfortable LDR rooms.
Once I knew Jeannie was settled, I grabbed a quick nap on the pull-out bed in the room. The doctor arrived a little after seven, confirmed everything we'd already been told and then did a quick sonogram to determine if the baby's head had even dropped, which was something I'd feared all morning.
Yep, Lily had turned and her head was in the birth canal. Everything was on go, and labor officially underway. Four hours or so later, we had our newest little girl -- a full four weeks before her due date.
The blessings of this experience have been tremendous for us. It's such a blessing to have a) a family that is always ready to help and be there for you in times of stress, b) friends who are like family, and c) a church that supports and loves one another. We had people going back to the house to try and make some semblance of order for a baby that wasn't expected for weeks. We have had food delivered to our house ever since we came home, and the only thing I've had to make for anyone while Jeannie recovers is Pop Tarts at breakfast.
The biggest blessing of all, however, is Lily Ann. When she was born I could literally hold her in my forearm and her legs not touch my chest. A lot of that is that she still pulls them up into a fetal position most of the time, especially while sleeping. It's hard to look at her and imagine she still should be in her mother's womb, yet she is going to develop over the last month in utero out of utero.
Our kids have been great too. Coby and Melody went nearly 10 years as the two kids in the family, and they've had a lot of responsibility put on them to help out around the house since Abby was born two years ago. The two big kids were just as excited as us about the newest arrival. I'm still not quite certain Abby full comprehends Lily's place with us, but she has gotten in probably more kisses and hugs on her little sister than anyone. The biggest challenge we face here in the early going with her, apparently, is convincing her that Lily is actually not a dog or cat, because all Abby wants to do is "pet" her.
No, I never expected to have Lily get her so quickly. But it just goes to show you that God is in control of our lives whether we want to admit it or accept it. This could not have happened as smoothly as it has without His hand in it every step of the way. I firmly believe that my long period of sleep the day before the birth was divinely generated, because I was rested and ready to go for the long day Thursday and into the weekend.
And finally, Jeannie is the perfect mom. One thing I've learned in 16 years of marriage (as of Friday the 10th) is that my wife has one of the strongest wills of anyone I've ever known. She nursed our older two children and had planned on doing so with Abby, but for whatever reason the nursing thing never really clicked between those two and Abby had to settle mostly for formula. I knew this bothered Jeannie for a long time and once we found out we were expecting Lily I began praying that the nursing experience would be a pleasant one this time around so she could enjoy what only mothers and babies can enjoy one more time.
The first few hours were typically and predictably tough, although Lily had shown very promising signs of wanting to nurse. Long story short, after a couple of good cries brought on by the hormones and some tough moments, Jeannie pushed through with the determination that has become her trademark and mom and baby are doing extremely well at feeding time. And still, remarkably, she's found little bits of time over the past few days to stay connected with the other three children in the house, especially little Abby who is still our baby as well and just needs attention. The older kids help with that as well as me trying to give as much as a dad can, but sometimes, well, sometimes a two-year-old just needs her mommy. And Jeannie has been there as well as being there for little Lily as well. It's a delicate balancing act that only moms can appreciate and understand.
So there it is. We expanded the family as expected but much earlier than expected. It's been a great experience, and God has been evident every moment of the journey.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Father's Day
My 12th day as a father came and went Sunday with little fanfare really. Wait, that's not right...my 12th Father's Day I should say.
That still doesn't necessarily sound correct but let's move on.
What is Father's Day really? I mean, c'mon guys, moms do all the work. There's a reason why Mother's Day comes first, and why it comes at a time of year when you can actually enjoy some outdoor activity. The temperature here in the 'Ville on Sunday reached triple digits. Who's gonna get out and fire up the grill in that furnace?
Yours truly upset his wife early Sunday morning by getting up early. Yes, I got up and couldn't go back to sleep and decided to rise for some early coffee by my standards. I entered the kitchen to the smell of eggs, bacon and biscuits, and was promptly greeted with something akin to diaper rash.
"What are you doing up? You're not supposed to be up," is how the love of my life greeted me from a night of unrestful slumber.
I briefly wondered if I'd missed something on the calendar, because I just knew the one I was living by said this was supposed to be FATHER'S DAY. A simple "good morning" would have been better appreciated.
Turns out I had walked in on my surprise. I was to have been served breakfast in bed. We settled for breakfast on the patio, because I wasn't going back to bed.
My kids gave me their respective cards, all hand-written and created personally. Coby signed his simply with "Your Only Son," overstating the obvious. Melody was quite respectful and creative with hers as well, as she always is. My oldest daughter is most like her dad in that respect.
Little Abby wasn't quite sure what was going on that was any different than the previous morning. But she gave me a card nonetheless, and it contained her own little scribble, literally. I'm talking crayon on construction paper, but it's as good as gold for me.
Jeannie, who'd gotten up at the crack of dawn to prepare my Father's Day feast, also gave me a card. I'll not tell you what it said; some things just need to remain secret.
Coby was finishing up a baseball tournament across town that afternoon but I had already made the decision to attend church and trust we'd make it to the game on time. It all worked out and it was good to worship the Lord; I'd missed the last two Sundays and was needing a good dose of reality.
We high-tailed it home and made it to the game 45 minutes early. The temperature at that point was only about 120 degrees or so, but the boys came through with a solid 4-0 victory. We had about three hours off, so a couple of us visited the local McAlister's for a snack and some sweet tea before I zipped back to the 'Ville to pick up the girls, who'd decided to sit out the first game and hope there would be a second.
Went back to the ballpark to watch Coby pitch a nice ballgame against a pretty good team from Carthage. "My Only Son" left after four innings of work with a 4-2 lead, having thrown 75 pitches on a sweltering day. Thirty-seven of those had come in the top of the fourth when he pitched out of jam and left the bases loaded after allowing just one run. We went on to win 5-2 and advanced to the championship.
We then faced the Texas Thunder in the championship game as the sun began to set, and the temperature fell into a somewhat comfortable 80-degree range. There's really nothing like watching the sun set at the ballpark, no matter what ballpark it is, after a long day of baseball.
The Thunder was playing its fourth game of the day and brought some big momentum in the game, jumping out on us 2-0 in the first inning. We answered with two of our own and took a 3-2 lead an inning later, only to have them tie it up and 3-3. It stayed that way till the fifth, when they scratched a couple of runs to take a 5-3 lead.
We picked up a run in the bottom of the fifth to make it 5-4, and figured Coby could use some more work. He was going to be on a strict pitch count this time, having thrown earlier in the day, but as it turned out it wasn't needed. He threw 13 pitches in the sixth inning and we picked up the tying run in the bottom half to send it to extra innings. "My Only Son" pitched the seventh inning and took only seven pitches to get out of it, and we won it in the bottom half with a bases-loaded single.
Got home a little after 11 p.m. That was Father's Day for me. I don't have a whole lot of money and I'm not the greatest dad in the world by far. But I got a heck of a family whose company I adore, and spending the time with them is the ultimate gift for me.
Championships only add to the enjoyment.
That still doesn't necessarily sound correct but let's move on.
What is Father's Day really? I mean, c'mon guys, moms do all the work. There's a reason why Mother's Day comes first, and why it comes at a time of year when you can actually enjoy some outdoor activity. The temperature here in the 'Ville on Sunday reached triple digits. Who's gonna get out and fire up the grill in that furnace?
Yours truly upset his wife early Sunday morning by getting up early. Yes, I got up and couldn't go back to sleep and decided to rise for some early coffee by my standards. I entered the kitchen to the smell of eggs, bacon and biscuits, and was promptly greeted with something akin to diaper rash.
"What are you doing up? You're not supposed to be up," is how the love of my life greeted me from a night of unrestful slumber.
I briefly wondered if I'd missed something on the calendar, because I just knew the one I was living by said this was supposed to be FATHER'S DAY. A simple "good morning" would have been better appreciated.
Turns out I had walked in on my surprise. I was to have been served breakfast in bed. We settled for breakfast on the patio, because I wasn't going back to bed.
My kids gave me their respective cards, all hand-written and created personally. Coby signed his simply with "Your Only Son," overstating the obvious. Melody was quite respectful and creative with hers as well, as she always is. My oldest daughter is most like her dad in that respect.
Little Abby wasn't quite sure what was going on that was any different than the previous morning. But she gave me a card nonetheless, and it contained her own little scribble, literally. I'm talking crayon on construction paper, but it's as good as gold for me.
Jeannie, who'd gotten up at the crack of dawn to prepare my Father's Day feast, also gave me a card. I'll not tell you what it said; some things just need to remain secret.
Coby was finishing up a baseball tournament across town that afternoon but I had already made the decision to attend church and trust we'd make it to the game on time. It all worked out and it was good to worship the Lord; I'd missed the last two Sundays and was needing a good dose of reality.
We high-tailed it home and made it to the game 45 minutes early. The temperature at that point was only about 120 degrees or so, but the boys came through with a solid 4-0 victory. We had about three hours off, so a couple of us visited the local McAlister's for a snack and some sweet tea before I zipped back to the 'Ville to pick up the girls, who'd decided to sit out the first game and hope there would be a second.
Went back to the ballpark to watch Coby pitch a nice ballgame against a pretty good team from Carthage. "My Only Son" left after four innings of work with a 4-2 lead, having thrown 75 pitches on a sweltering day. Thirty-seven of those had come in the top of the fourth when he pitched out of jam and left the bases loaded after allowing just one run. We went on to win 5-2 and advanced to the championship.
We then faced the Texas Thunder in the championship game as the sun began to set, and the temperature fell into a somewhat comfortable 80-degree range. There's really nothing like watching the sun set at the ballpark, no matter what ballpark it is, after a long day of baseball.
The Thunder was playing its fourth game of the day and brought some big momentum in the game, jumping out on us 2-0 in the first inning. We answered with two of our own and took a 3-2 lead an inning later, only to have them tie it up and 3-3. It stayed that way till the fifth, when they scratched a couple of runs to take a 5-3 lead.
We picked up a run in the bottom of the fifth to make it 5-4, and figured Coby could use some more work. He was going to be on a strict pitch count this time, having thrown earlier in the day, but as it turned out it wasn't needed. He threw 13 pitches in the sixth inning and we picked up the tying run in the bottom half to send it to extra innings. "My Only Son" pitched the seventh inning and took only seven pitches to get out of it, and we won it in the bottom half with a bases-loaded single.
Got home a little after 11 p.m. That was Father's Day for me. I don't have a whole lot of money and I'm not the greatest dad in the world by far. But I got a heck of a family whose company I adore, and spending the time with them is the ultimate gift for me.
Championships only add to the enjoyment.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Sidewalk Cafe'
An old friend updated his Facebook status recently with the following:
It's hot enough to fry eggs on the sidewalk.
To which my smart-aleck reply was this:
Who wants to fry an egg on a sidewalk?
It has definitely been hot here in the 'Ville the last week or so, no getting around that. But the only way you'd catch yours truly frying an egg on concrete is if I'd lost a bet, and even then I wouldn't eat it.
If you're from around here you're used to it. People say you never really get used to 110-degree heat indexes but you do, over time. The key isn't beating the heat, because that indicates a fight or competition must take place. There is no beating the heat.
But there is out-smarting the heat, or coping with it. Air conditioning, swimming pool, water hoses, can make the heat demon cry out in frustration.
My daughter and I spent several hours this past weekend out in the suana, playing in her state softball tournament. The 10-under girls won the entire thing after being forced to win seven in a row over two days after a tough loss on Saturday morning. Five of those came on Sunday, with four of those being played between 12:30 and 8:30. The extreme heat of the day took its toll but we were able to come home with the championship.
All this to bring up this myth of "global warming." A lot of people have made a lot of money talking about the subject but I've got news for them -- where I'm from, it gets really hot in the summer. EVERY YEAR. You come live here, expect for the heat to be suffocating from about late May to mid-October. I've never been fortunate enough to endure a cool summer. Hasn't happened in 40 years and it never will in this neck of the woods.
I read in a newspaper recently where there's talk the sea level in certain areas of the world has risen eight inches over the last 50 years or so. Let's see...at that rate by gosh the world will flood by about the year 2250. If I'm still alive then I'll be cruising around the sky in my flying S.U.V. or something so I won't worry what the surface of the earth looks like.
Besides, I firmly hold to God's promise to Noah in Genesis when He said He would never again destroy the earth by flood. So if this global warming thing is causing a flood somewhere I'm pretty sure the earth will rebound.
Soaring temperatures mean one thing to me -- it's summertime. It's going to be hot. And dry. And yes, it will be miserable. But I'm not looking for this huge wall of water to come destroy us anytime soon.
And don't look for me to be cracking an egg in the driveway anytime soon, either.
It's hot enough to fry eggs on the sidewalk.
To which my smart-aleck reply was this:
Who wants to fry an egg on a sidewalk?
It has definitely been hot here in the 'Ville the last week or so, no getting around that. But the only way you'd catch yours truly frying an egg on concrete is if I'd lost a bet, and even then I wouldn't eat it.
If you're from around here you're used to it. People say you never really get used to 110-degree heat indexes but you do, over time. The key isn't beating the heat, because that indicates a fight or competition must take place. There is no beating the heat.
But there is out-smarting the heat, or coping with it. Air conditioning, swimming pool, water hoses, can make the heat demon cry out in frustration.
My daughter and I spent several hours this past weekend out in the suana, playing in her state softball tournament. The 10-under girls won the entire thing after being forced to win seven in a row over two days after a tough loss on Saturday morning. Five of those came on Sunday, with four of those being played between 12:30 and 8:30. The extreme heat of the day took its toll but we were able to come home with the championship.
All this to bring up this myth of "global warming." A lot of people have made a lot of money talking about the subject but I've got news for them -- where I'm from, it gets really hot in the summer. EVERY YEAR. You come live here, expect for the heat to be suffocating from about late May to mid-October. I've never been fortunate enough to endure a cool summer. Hasn't happened in 40 years and it never will in this neck of the woods.
I read in a newspaper recently where there's talk the sea level in certain areas of the world has risen eight inches over the last 50 years or so. Let's see...at that rate by gosh the world will flood by about the year 2250. If I'm still alive then I'll be cruising around the sky in my flying S.U.V. or something so I won't worry what the surface of the earth looks like.
Besides, I firmly hold to God's promise to Noah in Genesis when He said He would never again destroy the earth by flood. So if this global warming thing is causing a flood somewhere I'm pretty sure the earth will rebound.
Soaring temperatures mean one thing to me -- it's summertime. It's going to be hot. And dry. And yes, it will be miserable. But I'm not looking for this huge wall of water to come destroy us anytime soon.
And don't look for me to be cracking an egg in the driveway anytime soon, either.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Pregnancy Times Four
I love my beautiful wife. She's taking one for the team on this one.
Our three previous children made it through their nine months -- excuse me, it's 40 weeks now -- in utero with nary a serious problem. Jeannie cruised through those experiences relatively pain free until it was time to do the serious stuff.
In fact, the only problems I can remember are Coby briefly having the umbilical cord around his neck and forcing some tense moments during delivery. I've been wanting to choke him at times ever since myself (THAT'S A JOKE, PEOPLE...NO NEED TO COMMENT)...
Melody had the most serious in terms of problems at delivery. When she was born I noticed her little chest heaving very heavily throughout the cleaning-up process in the nursery. I also knew enough from childbirth classes that her oxygen level wasn't where it was supposed to be. As it turned out, Mel was suffering from "wet lung," which basically means she had swallowed a lot of amniotic fluid during delivery and it was sitting in her chest cavity. Luckily for us Dr. Tex arrived just in time to control the situation and the baby was resting comfortably later that evening, although her and mommy didn't bond as well in that critical period following birth because of the extra time spent in the nursery.
They're still working on the bonding thing 10 years later (AGAIN, only halfway-kidding...)
The only problem with Abigail was that her father almost missed the birth entirely. We induced a week or so before the due date because a) Jeannie had had enough of pregnancy around the holidays and didn't want to endure a miserable New Year's, and b) daddy needed the income tax break the next child would bring.
Inducing is great. It's like going in for surgery. You have all this time to pack up, get ready physically and mentally for the birth and still get to the hospital without breaking traffic laws.
Only problem was it sped up the labor process fairly quickly. About 1 p.m. or so the nurse gave the laboring mom a checkup and everything was pretty slow, still looking at a few hours before birth. I saw an open window to go have lunch, so I got approval from the wife to grab a much-needed bite.
I sat down with my tray in the cafeteria and before I could take the first bite my cell phone was ringing. The doctor had come in and checked Jeannie and said it was time to have a baby! I hurriedly disposed of the lunch (and no, I didn't dispose of it in my mouth!) and made it back upstairs just in time to watch little Abby come into the world.
The speed of the delivery evidently was a picture of her personality, because Abby's been running around at breakneck speed ever since.
All this makes me wonder what's going on with Lily. She's sure making it hard on Mommy. We're officially down to counting days now -- as of this post we're at 47. Jeannie had to miss most of Melody's softball tournament this weekend because the heat was just unbearable for her to be carrying a two-year old around as well as one in the womb.
All she wants to do is lay in bed or on the couch and take naps, which is totally understandable. But she definitely had more energy with the first three. Lily turns somersaults every half hour or so, and Jeannie's been suffering fake labor contractions for about a month now, and that's something that never happened 1 through 3.
Lily also is apparently getting ready to play on the trampoline in the backyard. Unfortunately the trampoline now is Mommy's bladder, which is taking a serious pounding -- enough to make Jeannie reach and punch, squeeze, pinch Daddy whenever it's time for baby to jump. It's a feeling and pain that only expectant mothers can experience.
The pregnancy this time is different because of all that. I can't say it's been loads of fun for anyone, and yes we are all very ready for Lily to actually arrive. Mommy definitely. What I do know is that it's going to be an experience unlike any other, because that's just the way things go.
Our three previous children made it through their nine months -- excuse me, it's 40 weeks now -- in utero with nary a serious problem. Jeannie cruised through those experiences relatively pain free until it was time to do the serious stuff.
In fact, the only problems I can remember are Coby briefly having the umbilical cord around his neck and forcing some tense moments during delivery. I've been wanting to choke him at times ever since myself (THAT'S A JOKE, PEOPLE...NO NEED TO COMMENT)...
Melody had the most serious in terms of problems at delivery. When she was born I noticed her little chest heaving very heavily throughout the cleaning-up process in the nursery. I also knew enough from childbirth classes that her oxygen level wasn't where it was supposed to be. As it turned out, Mel was suffering from "wet lung," which basically means she had swallowed a lot of amniotic fluid during delivery and it was sitting in her chest cavity. Luckily for us Dr. Tex arrived just in time to control the situation and the baby was resting comfortably later that evening, although her and mommy didn't bond as well in that critical period following birth because of the extra time spent in the nursery.
They're still working on the bonding thing 10 years later (AGAIN, only halfway-kidding...)
The only problem with Abigail was that her father almost missed the birth entirely. We induced a week or so before the due date because a) Jeannie had had enough of pregnancy around the holidays and didn't want to endure a miserable New Year's, and b) daddy needed the income tax break the next child would bring.
Inducing is great. It's like going in for surgery. You have all this time to pack up, get ready physically and mentally for the birth and still get to the hospital without breaking traffic laws.
Only problem was it sped up the labor process fairly quickly. About 1 p.m. or so the nurse gave the laboring mom a checkup and everything was pretty slow, still looking at a few hours before birth. I saw an open window to go have lunch, so I got approval from the wife to grab a much-needed bite.
I sat down with my tray in the cafeteria and before I could take the first bite my cell phone was ringing. The doctor had come in and checked Jeannie and said it was time to have a baby! I hurriedly disposed of the lunch (and no, I didn't dispose of it in my mouth!) and made it back upstairs just in time to watch little Abby come into the world.
The speed of the delivery evidently was a picture of her personality, because Abby's been running around at breakneck speed ever since.
All this makes me wonder what's going on with Lily. She's sure making it hard on Mommy. We're officially down to counting days now -- as of this post we're at 47. Jeannie had to miss most of Melody's softball tournament this weekend because the heat was just unbearable for her to be carrying a two-year old around as well as one in the womb.
All she wants to do is lay in bed or on the couch and take naps, which is totally understandable. But she definitely had more energy with the first three. Lily turns somersaults every half hour or so, and Jeannie's been suffering fake labor contractions for about a month now, and that's something that never happened 1 through 3.
Lily also is apparently getting ready to play on the trampoline in the backyard. Unfortunately the trampoline now is Mommy's bladder, which is taking a serious pounding -- enough to make Jeannie reach and punch, squeeze, pinch Daddy whenever it's time for baby to jump. It's a feeling and pain that only expectant mothers can experience.
The pregnancy this time is different because of all that. I can't say it's been loads of fun for anyone, and yes we are all very ready for Lily to actually arrive. Mommy definitely. What I do know is that it's going to be an experience unlike any other, because that's just the way things go.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Turning 40
My biological clock will tick to its most likely halfway point Thursday, when yours truly hits the big 4-0.
I'm okay with it. Really I am. Actually, I think turning 40 is better than turning 30. There's something about leaving the 20s that makes you feel, well, older. I've heard it's a similar feeling leaving the 40s and hitting the 50s, which means I still have 10 years left to enjoy my youth.
Seriously, the only thing that I can sense changing in my life is my ability to reflect. I find myself longing more for quiet times out on the patio, sipping a glass of ice tea as the sun gently goes down and a cool breeze blows across my face. You know, goofy stuff like that.
I have noticed my body not recovering from physical activity nearly as well. I lost nearly 50 pounds over a six-month period in 2008 and have since added about 25 or so of it back. But I still consider myself in reasonably good shape for a 40ish, definitely borderline obese male with a blood clotting disorder and a history of diabetes in the gene pool.
I've had this toe thing going on for the past three months or so. It just won't go away. Originally I thought it was just a sprain, then I came to the assumption that I was suffering from what's called turf toe. But at some point turf toe heals, and this hasn't healed. In fact, the injury has begun shooting up my foot and into the ankle occasionally, so a friend -- an older friend -- mentioned that I might have come down with a case of gout.
I don't even know what gout is, but it sounds terrible. And it sounds like something reserved for old people. Whatever is going on inside my right foot, it hurts something awful.
Then there's the pain in my right arm and shoulder, that usually hits its breaking point about Thursday or so. That's usually the final day of the week that I play three or four games of racquetball, and by then my whole arm feels like it's going to fall off. It takes me at least three days to recover, and when Monday comes and I hit the court again my shoulder is still stiff and sore. Arthritis, I see you coming around the corner!
I've been waking up the last few weeks with stiffness and soreness in my lower back, whereas I go to bed at night with no pain whatsoever. Either I'm doing some sort of weird dreaming thing, or maybe my sleep posture is not what it needs to be. Regardless, the pain requires a double dose of Tylenol with my morning blood pressure medication.
And on top of all of this, my 40th birthday this week brings me closer to the birth of my fourth child in August. Lord knows how I'm going to make it through raising this one; not quite sure what's going on with the third child who's already here.
The kids keep me young I guess. Maybe that's how I should look at it. I won't have time to sit around and worry about growing old. I'll be too busy making sure the chicks get out of the nest with some semblance of life skills.
Okay Father Time. Bring it on.
I'm okay with it. Really I am. Actually, I think turning 40 is better than turning 30. There's something about leaving the 20s that makes you feel, well, older. I've heard it's a similar feeling leaving the 40s and hitting the 50s, which means I still have 10 years left to enjoy my youth.
Seriously, the only thing that I can sense changing in my life is my ability to reflect. I find myself longing more for quiet times out on the patio, sipping a glass of ice tea as the sun gently goes down and a cool breeze blows across my face. You know, goofy stuff like that.
I have noticed my body not recovering from physical activity nearly as well. I lost nearly 50 pounds over a six-month period in 2008 and have since added about 25 or so of it back. But I still consider myself in reasonably good shape for a 40ish, definitely borderline obese male with a blood clotting disorder and a history of diabetes in the gene pool.
I've had this toe thing going on for the past three months or so. It just won't go away. Originally I thought it was just a sprain, then I came to the assumption that I was suffering from what's called turf toe. But at some point turf toe heals, and this hasn't healed. In fact, the injury has begun shooting up my foot and into the ankle occasionally, so a friend -- an older friend -- mentioned that I might have come down with a case of gout.
I don't even know what gout is, but it sounds terrible. And it sounds like something reserved for old people. Whatever is going on inside my right foot, it hurts something awful.
Then there's the pain in my right arm and shoulder, that usually hits its breaking point about Thursday or so. That's usually the final day of the week that I play three or four games of racquetball, and by then my whole arm feels like it's going to fall off. It takes me at least three days to recover, and when Monday comes and I hit the court again my shoulder is still stiff and sore. Arthritis, I see you coming around the corner!
I've been waking up the last few weeks with stiffness and soreness in my lower back, whereas I go to bed at night with no pain whatsoever. Either I'm doing some sort of weird dreaming thing, or maybe my sleep posture is not what it needs to be. Regardless, the pain requires a double dose of Tylenol with my morning blood pressure medication.
And on top of all of this, my 40th birthday this week brings me closer to the birth of my fourth child in August. Lord knows how I'm going to make it through raising this one; not quite sure what's going on with the third child who's already here.
The kids keep me young I guess. Maybe that's how I should look at it. I won't have time to sit around and worry about growing old. I'll be too busy making sure the chicks get out of the nest with some semblance of life skills.
Okay Father Time. Bring it on.
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