Stories For Our Kids- My Goody Grandpa

with Jon and Em in 2007

As I type this Goody Grandpa is resting comfortably at my Aunt Noreen's house until the Lord takes him. My dad had a good talk with him the other day concerning the gospel and he responded well. Praising God for that. My parents are there helping care for him until he is gone. I got to talk on the phone to my Goody Grandpa yesterday to say "goodbye"...wow, that was hard.

Grandpa teaching Jon how to play penny-on-the-card

Here is the story of why we called him Goody Grandpa. He owned a catering truck business (among other entrepreneurial businesses -that must be where I get my entrepreneurial blood from). You know, the big shiny metal catering trucks that you see in LA where the sides of them fold up to display tons of snacks and a window into a whole kitchen where they cook up your food to order out on the streets during lunch hour. My dad worked on the catering trucks from the time he was a teen boy. When us grandkids came along, and we would go to Grandpa's house, all his trucks would be parked in his driveway and he'd quickly take us back out to the driveway and open up the sides of his trucks. There were rows and rows of chips, cookies, Twinkies and the like all stuck to the side of the truck on traveling wracks. When he opened that big side wall on his trucks it was like you could here circus music playing with all the bright colored packages of food starring at you. Then we'd get to pick whatever we wanted. Anything. "Take your pick" he would say. We'd all stand there wide-eyed for a moment scanning all the choices as fast as our little eyeballs could. This was the ritual that I remember growing up for years and years. Grandpa and all his goodies on his trucks that he would let us pick from every time we visited. That's why we call him Goody Grandpa. Most people don't get a warm fuzzy feeling inside when they see a big shiny metal catering truck driving down the road in the San Fernando Valley (CA), but I do. I think of my Goody Grandpa every time and I can picture exactly what is behind those big folding side panels.

picture taken 4.26.2007

Goody Grandpa, I love you and I'm glad I got to tell you one last time yesterday. You were such a fun Grandpa to have. Being with you always meant smiles and fun.

our table holds a whole world of memories....

today we've been bound together for 14 years. It was a hot August day in sunny southern California and at 1pm I walked down the isle to be your wife. We looked into each other's eyes and promised unity in happiness and in trials. We giggled at the phrase "for richer or poorer" assuming we'd be the latter. We smiled at the future with all our hopes and dreams. It's strange how life produces the dreams in a twisted sort of way mixed in with hard times. I look back and there are so many things I didn't know where coming.....like infertility, relocation, diagnosis, surgeries, a sickly infant who possibly wouldn't walk, church splits, financial strain, ER trips, ministry struggles, job loss, and many more things.....and even now we face them. Some fears, some realities...but I also look back and see some of the dreams that came true. God is so good to have willed us to enjoy some of our dreams. I wouldn't want to live those dreams with anyone else but you.

Remember that song that we liked when we were first married.... So We Never Got To Paris. I can still hear it in the back of my mind playing in our first apartment in 1995.

Young lovers, without much
Save each other, isn't that enough
Paint the future, a little day by day
Making plans with no regard for what might come our way

This cup fills up so quickly
There's so much on our plate
Between the living and the learning
Some things must wait

So we never got to Paris
And found the cafe of our dreams
But our table holds a whole world of memories
No, we never went to Venice
And strolled the streets alone
But we built our worlds together and we got the best of both

There's still wonder in our eyes
But we see each other in a different light
Yet the future isn't always clear
Now the question is where do we go from here

This cup fills up so quickly
There's too much on our plate
Between the living and the dying
Some things must wait

So we never got to Paris
And found the cafe of our dreams
But our table holds a whole world of memories
No, we never went to Venice
And strolled the streets alone
But we built our worlds together and we got the best of both

We may never get to Paris
And find the cafe of our dreams
But our table still will hold a world of memories
If we never get to Venice
And roam the streets alone
We'll hold our worlds together and we'll keep the best of both

We may never get our "Paris" but somehow our "Paris" seems to change through the years. That's okay too. All I know is that I was right about you from day one. You were the one. I knew that our marriage would be steadfast. I knew that we'd grow closer together through hard times, not further apart. I knew you'd love me forever and that I'd love you forever.

This anniversary may not be anything super when it comes to celebrating but that's okay, because sparks still fly on ordinary days. Today means smiling at the future and the past. It's the locking eyes with the knowing look and not having to speak a word to know all that is behind our smiles. It's knowing that I'll stand beside you no matter what (and "what" sure can be a lot to take on at times) and you'll always hold me tight when I'm weak. God knew we needed each other and that we'd serve Him better together than apart.

You are handsome.
You are brave.
You are honest.
You are a man of integrity.
You are slow to anger.
You are slow to speak.
You have patience in abundance.
You are kind.
You are loving.
You are unwavering.
You are a peace maker.
You are humble.
You are a faithful servant.
You are a super hard worker.
You possess great loyalty.
You are smart.
You have amazing insight.
You are a man devoted to His Lord.
You are a wonderful Daddy.
You are an example.
You are a sacrificial leader.
You are romantic.
You are fun to be with.
You always put me first.
You are a constant friend as ever there was.
You have the most genuine and hardy laugh.
You have an amazing voice.
You are so talented and gifted.
You have incredible copper eyes.
You are a great provider.
You and I are ONE and I love you more than I know how to put into words......

happy 14th anniversary today, Buddy
XO

Stories For Our Kids- Jon's Birth Story

It was November of 1998 and we had been married 4 years. I was having some health issues and went to the doctor. She told me that I had a tumor and would probably need a hysterectomy. I was shocked and devastated. I expected that I would have trouble having kids but this was much more than I was prepared to hear. Just to rule out pregnancy she sent me to the hospital lab to have a urine pregnancy test. A few minutes later I was assured that it was negative and sent me on my way. I was numb as I drove home....

A week or so later we told my parents about the problems I was having and what the doctor had said and my mom said I should have a blood pregnancy test to make sure I wasn't pregnant because her urine tests always came back negative when she was pregnant. So I called the doctor's office and asked for a blood test. They acted if I was being high maintenance and a nuisance. I went to the lab, had the test done and was told I'd be called with results in about 2 days.

2 days later, late in the evening, I was home alone in our little apartment waiting for my husband to be home in a few hours. The phone rang and it was my insensitive and tactless doctor who said something like "well, it came back positive but you're probably going to lose it anyway." Wow, thanks. That's the way every first time mom wants to find out she's expecting. So I was excited but nervous. I didn't want to get my hopes up but that was well, hopeless. I guess I just believed in my heart that it would be okay. The worst part was waiting for my husband to walk through the door from work so he could be the first to know. This was before cell phones were common and I couldn't call him at work. I wanted to tell someone so bad and I had to just sit there in the recliner waiting hours staring at the wall. I was somewhat in shock that there was actually a baby inside of me.

He finally came home and I was still sitting right there by the door when he walked in. I told him he was going to be a daddy and he was also very surprised. He immediately got on his knees and hugged my belly and started talking to the baby inside of me. It was a precious moment. Then we called our parents to tell them that they were each going to be grandparents for the first time. We ignored the fact that the doctor said I would lose the baby.

Being that I wasn't thrilled with this doctor, my mom quickly found me a specialist (thanks to her nurse connections) and I was soon going to my first visit with a new doctor. He was wonderful and happened to be an ultra sound specialist himself. So, for my first appointment, he said we'd see if we could find the baby. After 20 long minutes of searching the screen, he found 2 baby sacks but no babies. I was laying there with hot tears starting to stream down my cheeks. Two sacks and no babies? Not even one? One of the sacks was only half the size of the other and he explained that I was miscarrying that one which explained several of my symptoms, but the other sack seemed to be healthy and a good size but there was no baby in it. He kept magnifying the machine and searching from every angle. He moved the doppler around trying to find a baby. Just before giving up he said to the nurse standing by the door, "did you see that?" See what? I wanted to scream! She just whispered "yes"....and he intently kept magnifying the machine and searching and searching and I craned my neck around as far as I could to see that darn screen. He turned to me with a smile and said, "look, there is a baby in there!" There it was...a little flashing heart beat of a speck. I'll never forget that moment as long as I live. Now the tears really came.

It was real. I really did have a baby in there. I had two but now I had one. I was sad because I have always wanted twins. I actually went through some emotions over losing the other one even though I was grateful for one. Pregnancy hormones are tough things.

Time passed and I was sick....I threw up about 10 times but mostly I was super tired. One day at work I went into the conference room (locked the door behind me) on my break and laid down on the floor (all dressed up, crazy I know but I was desperate for sleep) and laid my head on my bent arm for some rest. Suddenly I woke up and was totally confused about where I was...I quickly realized I was at work and couldn't believe that I had fallen asleep. I jumped up, straightened my dress, slipped my heals back on and went to my desk only to find that several hours had passed! I was horrified! What would my boss think of me. She laughed and said "I figured you needed the rest." She was very kind.

At 7 months pregnant, my original doctor called whom the last time I spoke with was when she called to tell me I was pregnant. My husband answered the phone and she asked if I was still pregnant. He answered "yes" and hung up the phone. LOL. It was kinda funny. I was surprised that she waited till I was 7 months pregnant to collect on my delivery. She obviously wasn't too interested in giving me prenatal care.

The plan was that I would quit work on Aug. 2 since that was a Monday and I had to work into the month that I wanted my medical insurance to go through. I was due Aug. 8th. So, I worked up to 5 days before I was due. I was commuting 45 min. to work which was difficult as it was so my sweet husband drove me to work every morning and picked me up from work every evening. On my last day, he brought me a huge bouquet of red roses. Now it was time to have a baby. I went home and spent the next 5 days preparing the house and resting. Aug. 8th came and went. Aug. 10th came and went. No braxton hicks, no labor, no nothing. Aug. 12th came and went. Aug. 14th at 10pm I was laying in bed while my husband was reading in bed and boom, my water broke. It was like a garden hose. I sat up so fast and said, "MY WATER BROKE!" Hurray! It was finally going to happen.

I called my doctor's partner since my doctor was in Las Vegas till Monday, and he asked if I was having any contractions. I told him no. He said that once they got going and were about 5 min. apart that I could head to the hospital. So, we took our time and called our families to tell them that the baby was on it's way, we gathered our bags together, and then after about an hour the contractions started. They were slow (about 7 min. apart). Daddy was scurrying around trying to get the music for Sunday morning together to pass on to others since it was Saturday night, and his lessons plans since Monday was his first day of teaching school. Then, I did something very silly. Brace yourselves, yes, I put my make up on. Don't ask me why...dumb I know. I knew too that it would be smeared everywhere by the time I had given birth but I was still quite vain back then.

We left for the hospital but stopped by the church to drop off the music for Sunday morning and the lesson plans for his class on Monday. That took quite some time and I was in quite a bit of pain in the car waiting as each contraction came. He got back in the car and I was relieved that we were finally heading to the hospital. Oh but wait, he has to stop at the gas station to wash the windshield because it wasn't clean enough and to run in and by himself a coke. Um, ya, I was getting a bit annoyed at this point considering we had a 45 min. drive to the hospital ahead of us and my mom had had all of us in 5 hours or less. By the time we got to the hospital my water had been broken for 5 hours, my contractions were 5 min. apart, and I figured that my painful contractions were going to produce a baby any minute.

HA! Fat chance pregnant lady! I got checked in and then they checked me....and I was a whopping 1 (yes ONE) centimeter. I couldn't believe it. You mean this amount of pain is just one centimeter and I have decided to go natural without an epidural! Yikes, what have I got myself into. Well, maybe it will go quickly I thought. After several hours I finally reached about 4 centimeters. I was in agony and having trouble getting through the contractions. The nurses assured me that I could have "my" epidural soon (as if they had one with my name on it in the back) but I assured them that I could do this and would not need an epidural. At about 6 centimeters, they finally wheeled me out of the 10-girls-in-a-room-separated-by-hanging-sheets-room to my own private birthing room. This must be a good sign that it's almost over I thought.

A couple of hours go by and my doctor finally arrives. I had been pretty anxious about him finally coming to check on me. I felt total relief that he was here only to have him announce that his son had locked himself out of the house so he was going to go home and let him in the house and then come back. I was totally panicking inside and felt like he was abandoning me! Holy Cow, I could have this baby any second and you are going to go let your locked out kid into the house!

Several hours later I'm still enduring labor. My nurse comes in and asks me if I'd like a drug to help me sleep in-between contractions. Sure, why not at this point cause I've been up all night and I'm totally exhausted. I hoped it would help me sleep THROUGH the contractions but no such luck, I woke up with each one. My sweet husband got me through each one even though he was resting his head on the side of the bed while sitting in a chair beside me. We were both completely drained of strength and energy. I had 3 doses spread out of the "help you sleep in-between pills" but then I went back to just getting through it without sleep. A few more hours went by and the pain was getting incredibly difficult. I could no longer get up and walk around....in fact, there's a funny story about having to go to the bathroom but you can ask me about that so that I don't have to post it on the web for all to read!

The pain was getting so bad I was getting delirious. I was trying to talk but I couldn't form a sentence and the whole room was starting to look funny to me and I kept fading like I was going to pass out from pure exhaustion. It was at this point that my husband thought it was a good idea to video me trying to talk while I was delirious. Real nice! Let's take video of the crazy pregnant lady delirious from pain! That'll be fun. Yes, so there is video of me and on the video he is saying funny stuff like "this is your mom on drugs" and stuff like that.....and I'm talking all crazy on it.

The hours were rolling by and I was progressing so slowly. My doctor came in and checked me. Only 7 centimeters. He came in every half hour to see if I had gotten far enough along but the hours just kept ticking by. He was getting concerned about how long it had been since my water broke. He would stand in the door way shaking his head. I knew this wasn't looking good. I wanted to have a natural birth so badly. He came in again and still I wasn't far enough along. He walked to the door again and turned back and said, "if you haven't progressed by the time I check you again I'm going to have to take you in for a c-section." I was devastated. My heart prayed and begged God to let all this time and pain to not be for nothing.

At 9 1/2 centimeters the baby had turned sideways and the baby's face was facing my side and the baby was stuck. Yep, stuck. All that and the baby was stuck. The nurse had an idea. She got me up on my side and in some strange position and said that a lot of times it will make the baby turn back the right way. Moving was terribly painful at this point but I managed it. About a half hour later the baby's head was back in the right position. The nurse got me back into a pushing position. The doctor came back in to check me and announced that I could start pushing! Hallelujah! I couldn't believe it, God had spared me a c-section after all that. Pushing was much harder than I thought pain wise. I expected it to be a bit of a relief but it was even more work and I was completely worn out already. The pain was horrendous and I was screaming.

An hour or so of pushing went by and yet again I wasn't making progress. I had been in labor so long that my contractions were starting to slow down. My body was done and tired and yet the baby still wasn't out. I would push and push and push and the baby's head would come a little further down but then in-between the contractions that were getting further and further apart, the baby's head would go back up. This continued on for some time until they decided to give me a little pitocin to get my contractions close together again. It worked and I kept pushing.

The doctor kept yelling to push harder to get the head out. I was screaming with pain and my drill sargent-nurse was no sweet flower about it either. She showed no mercy to my poor left leg that ended up being numb in the thigh for about 3 months following. The doctor asked if I wanted a mirror to see the birth and I told him sure. A few minutes into the head coming I screamed to get rid of the mirror! I couldn't watch in that much pain otherwise I'd stop pushing! The pain was so bad that I seriously thought my life was going to end right there on that birthing bed. I just closed my eyes to push as hard as I could knowing my body would just rip in half up to my neck and I just prayed, "God please take me quick cause I know I'm about to die." The doctor announced that the head was out. I cried "what is it?" since we were waiting for this surprise all these months and hadn't found out what we were having. The doctor replied, "I don't know yet but it's got a ton of hair!" Soon the shoulders were out, ouch, and the rest of the baby came with ease. Quickly came the cries of a newborn and the doctor proclaimed that it was a boy. They cut the cord, weighed him, cleaned him up, let daddy trim the cord, and then wrapped him up nice and warm. They handed him to daddy first as I was still getting attended to. Delivering the placenta was surprisingly painful.

Then, I got to hold him. He was shivering and whimpering. Poor little thing. No one should have to be birthed for 22 hours....nor pushed out for 2 1/2 hours. My sweet baby was black and blue on his head with bruises from birth and his once round little head was pointed and narrow. Daddy opened the curtains on our room so that I could see outside and I was perplexed because it was still dark out. I said "wow, I thought that took a long time but I guess it's still night time." He laughed and explained that day light had come and gone and I was still in labor the whole time and now it was the NEXT night! You mean, he wasn't born on Aug. 14th??? I was confused and trying to wrap my mind around it. You mean, it's Sunday night? Yep, he was born at 8:01pm on Aug. 15th. I missed all of Aug. 14th and never saw the day light that day.

The nurse asked us if our baby had a name. We both answered that it would be Jonathan Michael but I was still slurring my speech and unable to get sentences out in the right form.

Our firstborn baby~
Jonathan Michael
August 15th, 1999
8:01 pm
21 inches long
8 pounds 6 ounces

The nurse had me get up to go to the bathroom. Cruel and unusual punishment I thought after having given birth just minutes before. I hobbled to the bathroom trembling and shaking with every step. I got in to the bathroom and looked up at the person in the mirror and jerked back with shock at the swollen face in the mirror. Was that me? I didn't even recognize myself. There was blood coming through the pores of my eye lids, my eyes were dark like I had black eyes, my face was red and super puffy. I felt like I had been hit by a truck and I obviously looked like I had as well.

Soon I was into a wheelchair being taken to my room and my baby had been whisked off to the newborn nursery to get under a heat lamp to get him warm.

I did it. I really did it. I couldn't believe that I did have that baby naturally and I couldn't believe how hard it was and how long it took but thankfully it was over! I was completely in love with this sweet little boy. He was perfect in every way.

My real doctor (after getting back from Vegas) came to see me in the morning but first he had stopped by the nursery to see Jonathan. He came into my room and exclaimed "What a BEAUTIFUL baby!" I thought so too. We chatted for a bit about Jonathan's perfect skin and his handsome features and light blue eyes, and I appreciated his care and compliments on my sweet baby boy. I couldn't have been more pleased with the beautiful bundle God had blessed us with. He was truly a precious "gift from God" as his name means and he still is.

We love you so much Jonathan and it's hard to find words to express that. You were worth all the labor pain in the world. The moment you were born all the pain and agony was forgotten. It was over and I had you, and I was smiling with perfect contentment. You are the most kind hearted boy I know. Your are sensitive to the things of God and to others. You are always anxious to please your parents and do what is right. You are a wonderful big brother. You have always been super cuddly which we've super enjoyed. You have the most amazing blue eyes and are terribly handsome! You are such a hard worker and have the best attitude about working hard. You inspire me to do my work with joy every day. Everything you do is done well and with excellence. You are neat and tidy as well. I love our discussions and how much your mind wants to acquire wisdom and knowledge. You have a rare conviction for truth and honesty for someone your age. You are wise beyond your years. It's our prayer that you become a great man of God, a servant leader, brave and strong, standing for truth. In all you do may you serve your King faithfully!

We love you, and happy 10th birthday!
Love,
Mom and Dad
I'm posting this at 8:01pm today....the very time you were born 10 years ago.

Stories for our Kids- Emilee's Birth Story

It was mid November of 2000 and we were struggling to make ends meet. We just found out we were hired for a new church position out of state, we were packing, we were moving, we were leaving our friends and home, we were on cobra health insurance, we had a 15 month old, and God in His infinite power and generous love blessed us with a pregnancy. We were in denial because it was not a good time but very excited about another baby. I tried to ignore the morning sickness as if that would make it not real. The morning sickness got worse and I knew I couldn't ignore it any longer....I was already 6 weeks along by the time I took a test.

We packed, we moved and I threw up. I drove myself all the way, through 3 states and was sick the whole way. I cried. I didn't want to be sick and I didn't want to move. I cried upon reaching our new town. It has smells I wasn't keen on (cows and a sugar beet factor), it looked so small (I was used to huge cities), and I was so sick and homesick already. We bought a house, we moved in, and I continued to throw up. I laid on the floor half awake and terribly sick for many months while my little one played nearby and crawled over me occasionally. I missed my friends, I was without a phone (lived too far out for the phone company to get a phone line to us for a few months), I was without a car (I don't know where I would have gone if I had one), and well, I was miserable. I lost 13 pounds and was too sick to even look for a doctor. Finally, I got the strength to look up doctors and I dragged myself to my first appointment already 4 months along. Hurray, the pregnancy seemed to be healthy. I went home to throw up some more and sleep. Surely the morning sickness would pass soon.....

Six months along and still throwing up. Throwing up almost every day still. I wondered if the morning sickness would ever go away. But then contractions started. It was the weekend and the contractions were lasting 1 min. and were 1 min. apart. I decided that going to the ER was not necessary and I laid on the sofa hoping they would go away. They went away but every time I got up they came back. I went to the doctor on Monday and got reprimanded for not going to the ER over the weekend. I was put on bed rest and I kept throwing up. Bed rest went something like this....I laid down on the sofa whenever I wasn't lifting my 20 month old into or out of his highchair or crib, whenever I wasn't cleaning the house, making dinner, or if the contractions got really bad. See, I did bed rest.

Eight months and still sick- throwing up and trying every morning sickness remedy in the books and on the internet. I was taking a prescription for it that didn't help either. Getting really uncomfortable now, can't sleep, can't sit, can't stand...the baby is actually hurting me...my belly hurts. Something must be wrong.

Turns out, no pun intended, that the baby was transfers....as in sideways. Ya, babies aren't supposed to fit that way. Head up or head down but not head and feet sideways. That hurts. I cried more, I hurt everywhere. I hurt standing, I hurt sitting, I hurt breathing, I hurt, I hurt, I hurt. Oh, and still sick and throwing up. Doctor says I'll have to go in to get baby turned. I heard that hurts bad. Oh Lord, please make this baby turn...I'm so miserable. In 3 weeks I'll go get turned. Still throwing up.

Night before turning, I'm laying in bed and am in excruciating pain. Something is really wrong this time. I'm in agony and crying. My belly feels like it's going to rip open. I'm trying not to hyperventilate. Finally it subsides and I feel a bit better. Go for turning appointment in the morning. Ultra-sound tech puts doppler on my belly and announces that the baby has turned by itself....."uh duh, I think I know when that happened" I think to myself. Ultra-sound tech says "do you want to know what it is?!"
Me- "No thank you, we like to wait to be surprised with our pregnancies."
Tech- "Oh, okay, cause I can really tell what it is!!!!!"

to myself- well, then, it must be another boy if it's that easy to tell.....

Due July 17th, 2001. Figured I'd have the baby early since I was having trouble with going into labor early and on "bed rest". July 17th came and went. What? I'm going over due again! Not fair. Still throwing up.

July 18th ....contractions are getting worse and worse. It's 7pm and I'm thinking this might be labor. But, I'm tired so I'll go to bed. 1pm I'm sure this is it...head to the hospital.

Check in at the hospital. Nurse says "no you're not in labor, your contractions aren't regular enough".
Me- "But this is really painful, I know I'm in labor, I've labored before and I'm over due."
Nurse- "But we've tried to check you and we can't because you have a posterior cervix...so we can't tell if you are dilated or not."
Me- "But I've been in labor before and I know I'm in labor!"
Nurse- "No, you're not in labor silly pregnant crazy lady, go home and take this sleeping pill."
Me- "But I don't want a sleeping pill, I'm IN LABOR!"
More crying on the way home.

Get home and take pill. No sleep....just contractions. Contractions never get regular but are totally sporadic but getting more intense. Husband happily sleeps beside me...this is the best labor he's ever been through. I keep getting up to go sit in the shower and believe it or not, I'm still throwing up. Who knew I'd throw up from 6 weeks pregnant on through to labor.

July 19th- 7am.... I'm saying things like "if this isn't labor then I need a c-section cause I can't do this anymore". I'm crying, I can't walk now. My mom was over to watch Jon in case we needed to go back to the hospital. My mom helps me out of the shower and gets me back to the bed. I sit down while she helps dress me. I look up at her and with fear on my face I say "I have to push." Husband quickly starts the car and they put me in the car to race to the hospital. It's morning traffic hour.

We get to the freeway and on to the on-ramp. It's stopped bumper to bumper because of an accident. I'm crying and begging to get out of the car so I can lay down on the grass. I have to push. We get past the accident and freeway is clear. I'm begging to stop and ask the police at the accident to help us, but we zoom on at top speeds. I need to lay back because sitting up makes me want to bear down. Asked husband to move the infant seat from behind me so that I can recline. He thinks I'm asking so that I can deliver the baby. We are yelling at each other as we continue to misunderstand each other. I'm yelling "I need the seat back!" and he's yelling "no way, just hold on, we're almost there." Looking back, it was very comical. I start pushing because I had to...I needed some relief from the pain- of course I kept this a secret and didn't tell him that I was pushing for fear he'd have a heart attack. We hit the side streets and at every red light, we stop, he looks both ways and runs the red lights all the way to the hospital. He ran several red lights. He drops me off at the ER and passes up the ER's offer to park our car. A candy striper is pushing me into the hospital in a wheel chair running.

Into the elevator we go. I'm crying and yelling and hyperventilating. There is an elderly man in the elevator with us and upon realizing he is trapped in an elevator with a woman that is about to give birth in the elevator he backs himself up as far as he can into the corner. There is a nurse in the elevator. She drops the paper work she is holding onto the floor, bends down to my level in the wheel chair and starts yelling in my face to"RELAX and start breathing!" She breaths with me and yells at me until the door opens. Into the waiting room we go....."what is your name dear?" my response "I'M PUSHING!" "But I need your name..." "I'M PUSHING!" I'm sorry but I really need your name so that I can check you in."

I'M PUSHING!!!!!!!!!!!

They finally took me seriously and rolled me into the room with all the beds while several nurses come running in. In a matter of about 2.5 seconds I am miraculously in the bed with my clothes changed into a gown and a nurse is checking me and yelling to the other nurses "SHE'S COMPLETE!" My water is breaking among other things but I'll spare you the yucky details. The bed is broken down as more staff rushes in and I'm being wheeled out while a nurse to my right keeps saying "don't push, don't push, don't push." From another hallway appears what looks to be a doctor although he looks terrified as he runs backwards at the foot of my traveling bed. I think to myself "oh good, a doctor is here to catch the baby" but why is the nurse still saying "don't push"....she probably wants me to wait till we get to the room instead of having the baby in the hallway.....oh know! Where's my husband?!?! He's going to miss it. I'm deliriously calling for him at the top of my lungs, "BUDDY!" "BUDDY!" The nurses are trying to calm me cause they don't know WHO Buddy is. Into the first room we zoom and now I'm counting 9 medical staff and in runs husband and the nurse is still saying "don't push". But I GOTTA PUSH LADY! In runs my doctor and she throws on a white coat and gloves while I'm giving a few pushes and the head is coming through. Good thing my doctor lived right next to the hospital.

The pain is intense and I'm thinking I might die this time.
Me- "I WANT an epidural this time!"
Doctor laughing - "Hun, it's too late for an epidural cause the head is almost out."
Me- "THEN I WANT a C-SECTION!!!"
Now the whole room of 9 staff is laughing including my husband.
Doctor- "I'm shooting you up with vile after vile to try to numb you a little."
Me- "It's not working!"
I'm screaming in agony with every contraction and push.
Doctor- "Head is out, one more push and you're done."

Out comes baby.

Silence. No cry. You could have heard a pin drop in that room. All I could hear were the shuffling of 9 medical staff as they all scurried around the room.

Why isn't my baby crying?

Two intensive care doctors whisked the baby to the corner of the room and are working frantically. Still no cry.

In the silence I awkwardly ask in a soft and tender voice (quite the contrast from my yelling just seconds ago), "what is it???"

No one answers and then a nurse by the door of the room right before she walks out turns and says.... "oh, it's a girl" and walks out.

We look at each other with shock and amazement. We had a girl? Wow! We smiled at each other despite the fear that our little baby that we are yet to lay eyes on is okay.

Finally I see her. She lays still without movement in the little clear plastic hospital bassinet on wheels with lots of little wires hooked up to her. "She's okay" they say, "but we'll need to run some tests and monitor her."

She passed meconium due to the stress of me holding her in for so long, her arm got hurt in the delivery, and I didn't get the antibiotics I needed during labor since I was beta strep positive.

The doctor cleans me up, I pop some mega pain pills, they bring me a hearty breakfast, and the nurse to my right says "I need you to sign these check-in forms that say we can deliver your baby." A little late don't you think? I sign them anyway.

I ask the nurse "why did you make me not push when that other doctor was here?"

Nurse- "because there wasn't an OB in the hospital when you came in, that guy was just a family practitioner in training, you did NOT want him delivering your baby!" Funny, I was thinking he'd be better than delivering in the car or elevator, but there I go being a crazy pregnant lady again.

I apologized for yelling and screaming during labor and the nurse says "it's okay, you weren't bad at all, most of the women curse at us the whole time." I was totally shocked and suddenly didn't feel so bad for screaming my head off with each excrutiating contraction and push.

We got to the hospital at about 8:00 am and she was born at 8:12 am. All that happened in about 10 min. They wrap her up after some observation and handed her to me. She kept her eyes closed and I immediately noticed the swirl of hair at the front of her head...."oh no, she has my cowlick" I thought. She looked nothing like her brother and I was having a hard time believing she came out of me but since there was no way they could have switched babies on me in the same room, I knew she was mine. She just peacefully slept as if what she just went through was way more traumatic for her than it was for me. It probably was.

We called family and friends to let them know God surprised us with a precious girl. What fun it was to call them all and tell them. Up to our recovery room we went. They ran their tests, poked needles all over her to get blood, monitored her for signs of trouble but she progressed just fine. When my doctor came to check on me in the room she said "how's that rocket baby doing?"

That night I heard her first cry. Yes, she does have a voice! No one was there, just me and her. She didn't want to sleep in the rolling bassinet so I pulled it over to my bed and with all the strength I had left in me (which was just about none) I lifted her out with my arms trembling from weakness and brought her in bed with me. I snuggled her close and she quieted immediately and I knew I was in trouble. It was our first moment of bonding....and I'll never forget it.

7 lbs 8 oz
22 inches long (too long to have stretching inside of you transverse!)
8:12 AM
July 19, 2001

I'm posting this on July 19th, 2009 at 8:12 am. At this very moment Emilee Megan turns 8 years old. You are a precious gift, Emilee. You were worth all the sickness in those 9 months, you were worth running red lights, you were worth a traumatic delivery without drugs. You're long eyelashes are entrancing, your olive skin is simply perfection, your big chocolate brown eyes are beautiful, your silky hair is gorgeous, your personality is precious and fun, your sweet desire to please others is admirable, your love for Jesus is infectious, your eye for art is inspiring, your loyal friendship and love for others is incredible, you always protect the weak and watch out for those who are left out, and your nurturing ways are a gift you posses.

You are beautiful inside and out. Your Creator spared no blessing in making you. You bring sunshine to our family in ways the other three of us can't. You make us laugh, smile, and simply be happy. You are fun, you give love without restraint, and you are eager to live for God. We cherish you, have been blessed to have you, and still stand in awe that God would entrust you to us. May God continue to draw you to Himself and may the next 8 years of your life mold you into an incredible woman after God.

You are a precious pearl with radiant beauty and we love you.
Happy Birthday!
Dad and Mom

Stories for our Kids- Conductor's Lethal Weapon

When we were at our first paid position for ministry, Daddy was conducting the choir and often used a baton (the conductor's stick). The choir was in the choir loft in front of him and the organist was to his direct right. The organist faced him so that she could also watch him conduct while she played.

One of the times he was conducting the choir, I believe for Easter or a Christmas service, he was madly waving the baton as the pace of the song was quick and passionate only to have the baton slip from his fingers (and he gasped in shock) as he flung his hand out to the right on the down beat and it flew with the sharpness, swiftness, and the precision of a warrior's arrow straight for the organist's head. Thankfully there was a plexiglas shield that held her music and it protected her from his arrow. It did frighten her though and she quickly ducked her head dodging the conductor's weapon! It seemed as if the entire choir and congregation all gasped at the same time and then all let out a chuckle as the song continued on at it's pace and depth of seriousness.

Needless to say, ever since, he has never used a baton in a service again and rarely uses it during practices.

Stories for our Kids - Look at the Stars!

When I was about 12 years old my family moved to the country on some property and we were building our own house. Meantime we lived in a single wide trailer on the property and it was up quite high in order to level it on the down slope of the hill it was on. My dad built large steps up to the trailer door using long railway ties. They were actually longer than needed so they stuck out quite a ways and since they were so big, they also created very large steps.

Being that we had moved to the country from the city I wasn't used to seeing how bright the stars were out there. One night when I went out of the trailer, I closed the door behind me and started down the steps but was quickly distracted by the amazing stars and how many there were of them. With my head lifted high looking up and still trying to make it down the big railway ties, I tripped and was saying as I fell "loooooooookkkkk at the staaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrsssssssss!" followed by crash boom, bang, thud. I landed off the edge of the actual stair part and had hung myself on my belly over one of the sticking out ends of the railway ties. I wasn't hurt badly and couldn't help but laugh at myself..... my fall was quickly followed by everyone in the trailer coming rushing out because they had heard me yelling as I fell "look at the stars!" and then the crash. We all had a good laugh.

Mom

Stories for our kids - I love you Mrs. Mays!

When Dad was in college he was a music major. One day he was in the music department's office and the phone rang and no one else was there to answer it so he answered it. It was one of his professor's wife. She was from Wales and in addition to her very strong accent she always called anyone she was talking to "dear" or "love". It wasn't just a sprinkling here or there but it was how she began almost every sentence and often ended it. There may have been a few "sweeties" in there too. Do you know anyone that talks like that? Maybe you had to know her but try this....say it with an English accent with me "hello my love, how are you doing today my dear?" One could easily get caught up in her affectionate talk....can you guess where this is going?

So after taking a message for his professor from her and as the conversation was wrapping up and the "goodbye" part was about to come, still smothered in "dears" and "loves", Mrs. Mays said "goodbye, love you dear" as was her way with everyone and Dad said "goodbye" and accidentally tacked onto it "I love you too." Oh ya, he hung up the phone and said to himself "I just told my professor's wife that I love her!!!!!!!!!!"

He was horrified but of course it didn't phase her. Now, knowing Dad (the more serious type that he is), it couldn't happen to a better guy.

Stories for Our Kids- Grandpa: child actor

So, here is a clip of my dad when he was on Dragnet. If you go to 12:24 you'll drop in right before the scene that he's in. Dragnet was a cop show that was on in the 1960s. He was a child actor as were some of his other siblings. I don't know how long this link will be good for but for the sake of this journal, I'm putting it in here. It's the episode called The Big Frustration. My dad is the first boy to walk in with the light hair and the second one with the dark hair is my uncle Tim. Uncle Tim found the link to this episode and is trying to get copies of all the commercials that he and their siblings did. I look forward to seeing the Ovaltine one and others. If we get them, I'll post them.(dad-front row second from the left-Vincent Price and Janet Blair are right above him to the right a little)

I think my mom told me a story about when she was a little girl she actually went to some performance and saw my dad perform on stage for something. He used to do Peter Pan with Vincent Price on the stage in Hollywood but I don't think it was that. In Peter Pan, dad was John....I was picturing John but said Michael earlier. Sorry about that. Mom, maybe you can fill me in on what it was you went to see when you saw him as a kid.

"Aunt Glennis took us kids to see Peter Pan before I had met your dad. We also saw "The Sound of Music" there. It was a beautiful theatre in the round. Stage in the middle and audience all around it.
love, Gram"

Stories for Our Children- A plane, a musician, and a boy that stuttered.....

For some reason there is this childhood experience that always stays close on my mind. It's strange how some things just stick with you as if they were yesterday. I never talk about this....ever....other than to my husband. There's really nothing to talk about, it's just something I think about from time to time and for some reason more often the past 5 years. Maybe because my daughter is now about the same age as me or maybe because just recently I made a connection with my fear of flying...I've always hated airplanes and flying which is ironic because I married into a flying family. My husband loves flying and it makes perfect sense since his dad worked for Delta. Maybe because a musician was involved and I married one, maybe because my son stuttered. So, I want to get this on paper because it might be interesting to my kids some day. I've never journaled about it before....this is a first.

I was in 1st grade at a tiny private Christian school and I was as girly as it gets. I had lots of friends that were girls but I had one friend that was a boy. His name was John. John sat across from me...as in, our desks were facing each other and touching front to front. The teacher had us all set up that way in twos. She probably figured that a girl and boy wouldn't talk much and was probably trying to prevent talking in class....and I did talk in class a lot. It was second grade.

John was a twin but I could tell them apart easily. I don't remember now if other people could tell them apart easily or not but I know I could. James and John. James wasn't so friendly to me but John was my friend. We would laugh together constantly. That I remember well...getting in trouble for talking in class.

John stuttered.....
John stuttered pretty bad. I remember him getting up in front of the class to read his report of some sort and painfully watching him struggle through it. I hated it. I wanted to read it for him. I think I did once but my memory is foggy. I just remember wishing I could always read his reports for him in class.

My buddy John wasn't ashamed to have a GIRL for a friend....he invited me to his birthday party. Yep, he and James had a birthday party that year and I was the only girl at the party. I remember doing human wheel barrow races and other relay races in their backyard for party games and it was all boys and me.

John was one of six kids in his family. I remember his oldest brother, Chad who was in 6th grade which seemed so old and grown up to me at the time....but I don't remember the other siblings...just that there were 6.

Then, the school year ended and John had to move. I remember asking my mom where they were moving to and she told me, Connecticut. That was far from our S. Cal. home. We had a going away party for them...I think...or maybe it was just our end of school party at the park. For some reason I think it was a going away party but maybe it was just the same timing. I knew that their family was packing all their stuff and moving soon.....we said our goodbyes.

One day I was in my room playing on the floor and mom came in with a newspaper. She showed me the picture. I've looked for that picture and can't find it online but I'm sure the newspaper archives still have it...but actually I still have that picture in my mind. The picture of the plane crash.

John's parents were John and Dede Smalley who were church plant missionaries on their way to Connecticut to plant a church. They were good friends with the Christian singer and music writer Keith Green. They wanted an areal view of Keith Green's new Last Days Ministries future site. The pilot took all 8 of the Smalleys with Keith Green and two of his children in his 6 passenger plane. I've read the crash reports and it's written up as pilot error. Keith's pregnant wife, Melody and their youngest daughter, Bethany didn't go with them on the plane ride. The over loaded plane crashed shortly after take off. They all died. All 12 of them.

I remember trying to wrap my mind around the fact that John was just gone. I remember wondering what would happen to all their belongings that they had already packed to move. I remember mom saying to me that DeDe was the kind of mom that when they were going down in the plane she probably would say something like "we get to go see Jesus now!" to her children, with excitement in her voice.

It was July 28th, 1982.
26 years ago.
I was 7 years old.

I kept the little treat bag from John's birthday party in my sock drawer for years and years. There were just these silly little cheap plastic toys in it...nothing special. It was the only thing I had to remind me of John and I remember being afraid that I would forget him. I'm almost 34 for years old now and I haven't forgotten him. I can picture him perfectly in my mind even though I haven't seen a picture of him in so many years. I can actually still hear his stuttering voice in my head. It's like my brain purposed to record him in my memory forever and it worked. You can find books and web pages dedicated to the life and death stories of Keith Green and the lives of his wife and daughters that continued on....but I can find virtually nothing about the Smalley family before they died, but that's okay. It's in my head.

Any time my husband does Keith's songs in church it brings me back to little John's smiling face.

I think this is why I hate flying....

Stories for our Kids - peed my pants in class

Mom-

"When I was in 2nd grade the teacher asked me to come up to the front of the class to pray to begin our day. I went to a private Christian school at the time which is why we prayed before class started. I knew I should have gone to the bathroom before that but I was too busy talking to all my friends as we had all just arrived at school. When the teacher, Mrs. Walk, called on me to pray in front of the class I was mortified because I figured I could hold it longer if I was sitting still rather than have to walk up to the front of the class, stand there praying, and then walk back. I bravely walked to the front of the class, said the morning prayer and then began to walk back to my desk but that's right when I couldn't hold it any longer. Panic over took me and so instead of going to my desk I went right past my desk to the bathroom in the back of the class room. Problem was, my pants were soaked. Now what should I do? Well, I didn't know what to do so I did nothing. Yep, I just stayed in there never to come out...waiting for God to solve my problem I guess. I was fine with staying in there forever if that's how long it took for my pants to dry.

So, the first part of the day went by and the teacher dismissed the kids for recess....all the while, I was still in the bathroom. Bored mind you. Then came the little tap on the door. Mrs. Walk in her kind and sweet grandma voice asked me "are you okay?" NO was my simple answer. "Did you have an accident?" YES "Was it number 1 or number 2?" THANKFULLY I could say it was number ONE! She said, "okay, don't worry, I'll call your parents and have them bring you a change of clothes." Boy was I relieved (in a different way this time).

It was still a long wait in that bathroom but my dad came to my rescue. He was home at the time and mom had instructed him that my sister had a matching pair of pants that he could take to me so that my friends wouldn't know that I had changed...not that those other second graders were smart enough to notice....but my mom was extra thoughtful that way! Soon dad came and I was finally willing to unlock the door and get my clean clothes from him. THANKS mom and dad and dear Mrs. Walk who at the time was elderly and has since gone home to be with the Lord. I'll never forget her, she was one of the best teachers I ever had. I remember more from my one year in her class than I do of several other teachers I had."