One More Baby Story

Spencer: The Hospital Picture

Spencer celebrated a birthday this week. He is fourth child, second son and brought balance to our family by evening up the boy/girl count--much to his big brother Scott's delight.

We thought our family was complete after three children. That is really the tipping point for parents--the third child leaves you outnumbered and in our case, they were close in age so we were feeling physically exhausted with the demands of our three active, busy young 'uns. But after Shanna was potty-trained and things began to feel a little calmer, I felt like there were more who were supposed to come to our family.

When I was expecting Spencer, I was serving as the Primary President in our ward. Our ward was growing and our Primary had doubled in the few months after I started. The weeks leading up to his birth were filled with "record highs" in the weather. We didn't have air conditioning at home--it really wasn't necessary most years in the rainy, cool Northwest--but since I was pregnant, of course it had to be the hottest summer anyone could remember. According to my journal, I sweated my way through Primary every Sunday. Although the church was air conditioned, we were crowded into the small Primary room of the Washougal building where the warmth from all those wiggly children and my very pregnant self generated more heat than the air conditioning could push out.

 Spencer's due date had been changed from August 12th to July 27th after an ultrasound because he was so big. This was the first ultrasound I had ever had so I trusted in their expertise and mentally prepared for birth at the end of July. But that date came and went with no sign of labor. About 10 days before he was born, it was 99 degrees on Sunday and after church I started having contractions. It turned out to be false labor brought on by dehydration. I was instructed to drink more and try to get some rest.

We had agreed on a name after some debate amongst the children. I thought we should end the "S" thing and branch out. I was out-voted. The three older children thought he would feel left out and it wouldn't be fair. So they convinced me that we should continue our tradition and we chose Spencer for his name. He was named for a beloved prophet : Spencer W. Kimball and it's also a family name on my Dad's side. His middle name is Matthew after Matthew in the Bible--a faithful disciple of the Savior.

So another week of record highs went by. I had dragged home a big wading pool for the kids earlier in the summer which we set up in the back yard. They spent those hot days playing in the cool water and enjoying Otter Pops. When the heat became unbearable, I joined them and became the big beached whale in the middle of their fun.

My presidency and I had planned a Primary Activity for August 14th. Naturally, that is the day I went into real labor. I tried to convince my fellow Primary compadres that I could handle my part of the activity--I figured I would be in labor all day and might as well be doing something to take my mind off of it.  But my counselor who was the mother of six told me to stay home and they would take care of it. "We don't want the Primary Activity to turn into a birthing activity!" she said.

So, I paced around my house. I had already thoroughly nested--the crib was set up and ready and I had cleaned and scrubbed and organized in spite of the construction chaos that was a constant in our lives.After consistent contractions all day,  I fed the kids dinner and waited for Andy to get home from work. Our across the street teen-age neighbor, Antje (who was more of a beloved big sister) came over to stay with the older three and we headed for the hospital.

When we got up to the labor and delivery area, I wanted to cry. The place was in the middle of a big renovation and it was a mess. Walls were torn down, insulation was hanging from the ceiling, a nurse went by with a bin of dirty laundry. There was no place to sit while we waited to be checked into a room. There were three other women standing there with me. One was in a lot of distress and her husband was begging for a chair for her. It's stressful enough to be in labor but to have paid good money for insurance and thinking you live in a civilized world and time and expecting a nice, clean, hospital birth only to find yourself in the middle of a construction zone had put everyone over the edge.

I did what I usually do in difficult circumstances, I told myself "It could be worse." And took deep breaths.

I was the last to be put into a room--the squeaky wheel gets the grease as they say. I was fine with that because I didn't want to be tied to a monitor too soon. My labor room had bare studs along one wall which they had covered with what looked like burlap. But it seemed clean and I figured I wouldn't be in there for long. Andy hadn't had a chance to eat so he went to the hospital cafeteria and I got hooked up to an IV. Unfortunately, I got a rookie doing the needle work and she informed me she was really bad at getting the needle in. She was right. She managed to get my blood all over both of us, the sheets and the floor. She's lucky I didn't have any dread diseases to share.

By then it was about 10:30. It felt like labor was taking forever. I didn't make any note in my journal of dilation so I don't know what my progress was. I must have been far enough along for them to keep me. I loved the nurse that was on duty. She dimmed the lights and spoke softly. We talked about the miracle of birth and how precious children are. She had a book that had just come out with actual photographs inside the womb and she brought it in and showed it to me. There were five women in labor at the same time and there was a lot of screaming going on--probably more noticeable because of the missing wallboard. One doctor was on duty going from one to the next waiting to see who would deliver first. My contractions were getting closer together and lasting longer and I was coping with them by closing my eyes and pretending I was outside my body.  The doctor walked into my room munching on a sandwich and asked the nurse "What have you got her on? She's so relaxed."
My nurse was so proud of the fact that I wasn't on any medication and she said "Nothing! She's doing this all on her own!" After he left, she said, "I can catch this baby--don't worry if he's too busy--we'll have this baby just fine."

It wasn't long after that that it was time to push. As it turned out, the doctor waltzed in on the last  two pushes. Spencer was born at 12:26 am.  He cut the cord, laid Spencer up on me, told me congratulations on a fine healthy son and waltzed back out. The nurse was disappointed that he made it in for the delivery. I was too. Spencer didn't cry right away--he looked around and quietly took it all in. The nurse rubbed him vigorously with a blanket and he took his first big breath with a healthy cry.

1st Birthday

The nursery was on a different floor than the mom rooms, so Andy went with the nurse and Spencer to see him get weighed and cleaned up. I was wheeled off to another room. I didn't get to see my baby for about an hour and I was pretty anxious. Andy brought him to me and announced the stats: 9 pounds 4 1/2 ounces and 21 inches long. He had a whole head of thick black hair and big eyes. He was very calm and nursed easily. I was in heaven. I had waited almost 4 years for this addition to our family and I was a very happy mom.

Later in the morning, Andy came back with the other kids. They were so excited to see their new brother. I had to stay longer in the hospital than I wanted to because of some hemorrhaging issues. I was given pitocin and had the privilege of having a nurse come in and "massage" (actually "smash") my uterus every hour or so. It was painful and made it impossible to get any rest. I was fortunate to find a midwife before the birth of our next child and learn about red raspberry leaf so that I never had bleeding problems with any of our other babies.

We brought Spencer home to a very enthusiastic crowd. He was loved and adored. According to my journal Scott loved taking care of him and even changed his diapers. He didn't want Spencer to nap because he loved playing with him. Even though Shanna wanted a little sister, the minute she saw him she decided he was so cute she would love him anyway. As he got older, I had to convince them to put him down once in awhile so he could learn to crawl.

When I took him in for his one month check-up, our family doctor asked about how I was feeling. He was screening me for postpartum depression. I told him, "I feel like I have postpartum euphoria. I am kind of over-the-top happy. Is that hormonal?" He laughed and told me he wasn't sure but to let him know if it changed. It didn't. Spencer was a very happy, easy-going baby. He would go to anyone and people at church loved to hold him. If the person behind us in the pews held out their hands, he would go to them and often spent Sacrament Meeting sitting with various ward members.

And now our Spencer is home from a faithful mission, married to his childhood sweetheart in the temple and getting through his Chemical Engineer degree at BYU. Happy and easy-going as ever.

Happy Birthday!

Shayla's Birth Day

Precious Baby Shayla in her blessing gown.

Our sweet Shayla was born 18 years ago today. I realize that her birth story did not get told last year in the "Year of Birth Stories". So, I will remedy that today.

Shayla is our 6th child and that summer I was pregnant with her, I had the older four in swimming lessons. The lessons were every morning at our local  pool. Seth was two years old and full of energy, so I spent each morning running (waddling) after him in the parent seating section of the bleachers, while the older kids swam.

In my journal, an entry on July 6, 1994 reads:

"Today I ran some errands. I got a portable crib and set it up in our bedroom. Also a nursery monitor. I feel like I'm ready for this baby now. I went Tuesday to see my midwife and I am dilated 2 cm. and 50% effaced. Also the head is well down--all good news for a quick delivery. I really feel good and expect everything to go well."

At the appointment, Ann had offered to strip the membranes. I told her "No, I'm not in any hurry and I want her to grow as much as she needs to."

We had my sister Valorie come from Utah to watch the older five when I had the baby so we were prepared when contractions started on July 13--two days before my due date.

 I was serving as a counselor in our ward's Young Women organization and we had planned a fun Daddy/Daughter activity for the girls that night but the contractions continued steady so I made a phone call at 5:00 to let them know I was in labor and wouldn't be there.  Andy came home and worked outside on the house. We were in the middle of an on-going remodeling that included a huge addition to the back of our house. Andy was doing most of the work himself so we were in a constant state of chaos with five children and a pregnant mom trying to function around the construction. (My journal entries included many incidents and accidents involving wheelbarrows, mud, concrete, nails and so on and so forth.) Sometime after I had fed the kids, I started timing contractions and they were seven minutes apart. I told Andy maybe he should get cleaned up. Then we had scripture and prayer with the kids (this according to my journal--I would not have remembered that much detail!) Then Andy gave me a blessing, as he did with the birth of all of our babies. I was blessed that it would "go quickly and with a minimum of pain." 

We got to the hospital about 10:00 (we stopped at the ATM for cash--according to my detailed account hahaha). I still wasn't positive if it was the real thing because the contractions were not painful. The nurses were a little bugged that I had not called first--they were pretty busy. Then I really hoped I wasn't wasting their time.  When I got checked I was dilated to eight so yay! I was having a baby. They called the midwife and we got settled into a birthing room. By then it was close enough to midnight that I told Andy I was going to hold back a little so she would be born on the 14th. Our other two girls were born on the 24th and the 4th so I thought it would be fun to have all three girls born on "4" days. 

The three sisters in their matching Daisy Kingdom dresses

Ann got there and I started into transition. Two hard pushes and her head was out. Ann told me to stop pushing but didn't tell me why. It turned out the cord was wrapped around her neck. After Ann got the cord off, Andy moved in and caught Shayla as she was born at 24 minutes after midnight. He laid her up on me and Ann handed me a towel to wipe her off. She hadn't cried yet so I was worried. Her eyes were open and she was calmly looking around. As I rubbed her with the towel, she gave one loud cry and went back to looking around. Ann was anxious to see how much she weighed and the nurse brought in the scale. Andy guessed 8lb. 2 oz. and Ann said 81/2 or 9 lbs. We were all shocked when the scale went up to 9 lbs. 15 oz. She didn't look chubby at all. In fact, she had very feminine, petite hands and narrow feet. She had wavy hair plastered to her head. We wrapped her up and I nursed her. She latched right on and nursed on both sides. She was calm and alert. After her bath and feet-printing we got into a room about 2:30 am. She fussed a little and nursed again. The nurse suggested I let her sleep with me which really surprised me. She snuggled right up and we both slept for several hours. 

Shayla and her violin

A few weeks later, we were going to have her blessed. My mother had sent a pretty blessing gown for her from Utah and the first Sunday in August I dressed her all up for her blessing day. Andy was on the High Council and had a meeting that morning, so I got the kids all ready for church and headed over. Church began and no sign of Andy. I wasn't too worried because he was sometimes a little late getting back from his meetings. Soon it was time for the blessing and everyone knew we were waiting for her Daddy to get there to give her the blessing. The bishopric gave each other nervous glances and kept looking at the door to see if Andy was there. Finally, the Bishop got up and announced that they would hold off on the baby blessing until Brother Gale got there and just continue with the regular Fast and Testimony Sacrament Meeting. The meeting went on and still no sign of Andy. As it got  to the end, I decided to get up and bear my testimony. I said it was ok that her Dad was serving faithfully in his calling and I appreciated that he was a worthy and faithful Priesthood holder. We were just concerned that her pretty blessing gown wouldn't fit her by next month--especially since she had started out bigger than we expected. She would know that her Dad was doing the Lord's work and her blessing would be just as special with or without the fancy dress.

The meeting closed and I took the dress off of Shayla and headed for Sunday School. Andy actually didn't get there until part way through that second hour. He had been held up by an emergency need that had come up. The Bishop gave us permission to have her blessed the next week so--she was blessed and she still fit in her pretty dress.

She was a calm, easy-going baby and slept 7-8 hours a night according to my journal. The fact that I wrote about her sleeping means she was sleeping enough to give me time to write in my journal.

On July 31, 1994 I wrote: "It's been a busy two weeks adjusting to our sixth child and adjusting to the other five trying to adjust to a new baby. They are all very positive and sweet with their new little sister --even Scott who was hoping for a boy keeps saying 'She's just the cutest baby in the world!' It's hard to comprehend that I am the mother of six children! They are each precious and wonderful and challenging! I feel so blessed that I have had the health and strength to bring them into the world and pray for patience and sanity to raise them to be righteous and decent."

My children might question whether the prayer for sanity was granted but I certainly owe a debt of gratitude for the blessings that have been poured out as I have had the privilege of mothering some of the most amazing people on earth. 

Shayla will be heading off to BYU in about a month where she plans to major in Mechanical Engineering and Computer Science.  Happy Birthday Shay!

Sam's Story

Sweet baby Sam with his Mama

Early in the pregnancy with Sam, I had all the signs of a miscarriage. This was something I had never experienced before (and never did again--against all odds we had eight children and never had a miscarriage).
I called my midwife and talked to a nurse who told me to just lie down and wait for nature to take its course, since there was nothing I could do about it. I laid there and cried and prayed. We thought our family was complete after our sixth so this baby was a bonus and I felt strongly about another boy who was supposed to come to our family. I prayed until peace settled over me and I knew that whatever happened I would be ok. Soon the cramping and bleeding stopped. I worried every day of the first trimester but everything went along fine. I went to Girls Camp that summer and continued caring for my busy brood without any other problems.

The January before Sam was born, I was called to be the gospel doctrine teacher in our ward. I have a clear memory of standing in front of the pews in the Prune Hill chapel, pregnant and puffy--seven months along with our seventh child, and enthusiastically introducing our study subject for the new year: The Book of Mormon. By this point we had settled in on the "S" thing for names (really there was no turning back after about number four). As I began studying and preparing lessons, I decided Sam was the name for this baby boy. I loved that Sam was faithful and that he was a loyal brother to Nephi. I also loved faithful Samuel the Lamanite later in the Book of Mormon. There is also the Bible  story of Samuel the boy prophet who answered the call of the Lord with "Here am I". We named each boy after a prophet or an apostle with the thought that they would have a good name to live up to. And so it was decided that this boy would be Samuel and we would call him Sam.

We thought Sam might be a St. Patrick's Day baby--that was a Sunday morning and I had lost the mucous plug (sorry--TMI?)  sometime during the night and had regular contractions but they were 15 minutes apart and didn't get any closer as the morning wore on. We had a dear older sister in the ward  (Sister Buzan!) who came over to stay with the other six and take them to church while I went to the hospital to be checked. I was dilated to 3 but the contractions came to a halt. So I came home and laid down and Andy went to church. During the night, contractions started again and around 4:00 am one was sharp enough to propel me out of bed. I didn't want another false alarm but there were concerns about Monday morning traffic over the bridges to Portland--I didn't want to give birth on the side of the road. I called the hospital around 7:00 and they said to come in and get checked. So I did...and I was dilated to 3. The contractions stopped again while I was being monitored. I felt pretty foolish--you would think that by the seventh time I would have some clue about childbirth. 

The nurse sent us off to walk around and the contractions started up again. They got down to 10 minutes apart. In the meantime, they were searching for my medical records. There was talk of inducing me  but they couldn't do anything without my records. I had been seeing a midwife in Vancouver, Washington but our insurance  was an HMO that had hospitals across the river in another state so there was some glitch in getting the records over there. That took long enough that by the time I got back to a room and on the monitor, the contractions were going good. I didn't think I would need to be induced at that point but the nurse decided to hook me up anyway "to really get things going." The first contractions with the pitocin were intense and only minutes apart. My usual labor coping skills were not helping because I couldn't catch my breath between contractions. It felt like a knife stabbing me in the back and side with each contraction. Andy and I were alone in the room and I told him to get the nurse and turn off the pitocin. She took her time getting in there and Andy asked her if there was anything for the pain. He was concerned because he was used to me getting through most of labor at home and getting to the hospital just in time to push the baby out. She said she would have to check me first. I was dilated to EIGHT!! And my water broke. She put something in the IV "to take the edge off" she said and she turned off the pitocin. It was such a relief to have the pitocin stopped!

 According to my journal, I had five more contractions and he was born. The doctor who was on call made it in for those five contractions. The hospital had just finished a beautiful maternity addition and the room I was in was on the 5th floor and had a big picture window that overlooked the river below. I remember looking out the window at the people working down by the river and the cars going by and I said "Isn't it amazing that there is a new life coming into the world up here and they are  just going on about their business down there." And then Sam was born. It was 2:06 pm. The doctor laid him on me and she asked me if I wanted to cut the cord. I had never done that so I was happy to do it. She clamped it and I cut it and then I wrapped him up and held him. He calmed down quickly after his initial cry. He had lots of dark hair and big eyes. He looked around and was so serious and alert. The Doctor told me "That was a beautiful experience. You made childbirth look elegant." The doctor and nurses commented on how alert he was-- I was relieved that he was born so quickly before the pain med got to him. The assistant who was cleaning up was chattering away as she pulled off the drape cloths. I moved my legs and scooted up to help her and she let out a little surprised yell. "Oh! I'm not used to moms moving their legs after birth--that kind of freaked me out--sorry!"

Andy went with the nurse to weigh Sam and clean him up. He was 8 lbs. 11 oz and 21 inches long. We brought him home to his six loving siblings the next morning. Bev Buzan was there taking care of everything. She was such an angel to our family.

 About a week after Sam was born, I was doing laundry when I had the very distinct impression that I needed to prepare to support my husband. It was clear to me that he was going to be called as Bishop. I brushed it aside thinking there were so many new people in the ward who would do a great job and whose lives were not jam-packed with children and a job that required travel and selling and building a house. Those few minutes that the thought  lingered were enough for the Spirit to reassure me that the way would be opened for me to handle the added responsibility that would fall on me in caring for our children without his help.  My very merciful Father in Heaven was preparing a frazzled mother of seven--the seventh just a few days old-- for what was coming. So it was no surprise when the phone call came from the Stake Executive Secretary that we had an appointment to meet with President Bair Friday night at 6:30.

When we met with the stake president, I had baby Sam in his little car seat and President Bair asked how old he was. "Eleven days old", I told him. "Just think! He will be in kindergarten when your husband is released!"

 Five years looked like an eternity at that moment.

We had already planned Sam's blessing for March 31st (fast Sunday was early because of General Conference) and that was the day Andy was to be sustained as the new Bishop of our ward. He had one day to choose his counselors so he went to the Temple. We had already invited friends and family to come for Sam's blessing and we didn't really have time to inform them all that there was more than that going on.

So they got a bit of a surprise when all of that happened after the blessing. We had invited our children's favorite kindergarten teacher: Mrs. Heigl and she was there. Afterwards she said, "I voted for you Andy!"

So our Sam joined our family and was swept into the beautiful chaos. He was passed around in Gospel Doctrine by all the sweet grandma ladies so that I could teach and he learned to behave with "The Look" from his father sitting up on the stand at church. Those five years flew by and now there have been eleven more!

Happy Birthday Sam!

l

Born First: Scott's Birth Story

Scott was born in the days of our poverty. I was working full time at Bradshaw Auto Parts in Provo, Utah while Andy was finishing his two degrees at BYU. He was also working part time at the facilities plant on campus. We lived in the "Chicken Coop" and drove a beater Plymouth Volari station wagon. Each night before dinner, we would eat a bowl of Top Ramen to fill us up so that our sparse meal would suffice. We  took the prophet Spencer W. Kimball at his word when he said not to delay our families for school. We decided that if we were ready to be married, we were ready for children. We were blessed far beyond any sacrifice we made. Each child brought blessings beyond measure along with many blessings that could be measured.

Due to our busy schedules of work and school, we were not able to squeeze in the childbirth classes that are the norm for first-time parents. We ended up taking a one evening crash course which was really a refresher course for those who were on their second or third. A nurse gave us a summary of what to look for as signs of labor and then showed us a film of a birth. It was the first time I had ever seen a baby being born. We went home with a stack of papers and brochures which I studied intently. There was no internet, no Learning Channel with "A Baby Story" running 24/7. I was really on my own.

Scott was due on November 18th. I had the date circled in  highlighter on my calendar at work. As the day drew near, I became more and more uncomfortable sitting all day behind a desk. My ankles swelled and I waddled like a duck. The morning of the 16th, I awoke at 3:00 am with a contraction, then I discovered that I had lost the mucous plug. I recognized that as an important sign of imminent birth--so I decided to clean the house.  My main craving during my pregnancy had been the smell of Comet cleanser. I would come home from work and scrub the kitchen sink and the bathroom sink and tub just so I could smell it.  Crazy yes? So cleaning the house really wasn't necessary since I had been scrubbing for nine months. I didn't eat anything as per the instructions of the nurse in our childbirth class. By the time Andy was up getting ready for school, I was exhausted and hungry. When Andy got back from class late in the afternoon, I had called the doctor and he told me to come in and get checked. So we did. The contractions were coming about 20 minutes apart but the doctor was surprised to note that they were lasting for 5 minutes each. But I was only dilated to one. He told us we would most likely have a baby by morning and sent us home to wait it out. We took a detour to the Cougar Eat so Andy could get some dinner--I was still faithfully following the instructions: "Don't eat anything whilst in labor".  By  the time we got home, the contractions had gone up a notch and I had a hard time catching my breath during them.

At that time, Andy was playing on an intermural football team made up of accounting majors--really. And they had been winning. Around 6:00 he got a call from a team mate wondering if he was coming to the game that night. And here, Gentle Reader, is the stuff that legends are made of. Andy's question to me has gone down in history as the infamous What NOT to Say to Your Wife in Labor. The poor father-to-be who really wanted to go play football asked his wife:

"How long do you think you will be?"

I responded by bursting into tears.

After Andy decided he would miss the game for the sake of his distraught wife, we decided to call the hospital and see if I should come in yet--the nurse told me to come on in and get checked.  The contractions were closer and harder and I hoped that I had made some progress. I had made progress...the nurse informed me that I was now at 1+. She told me I should go home and try to rest, clearly it was going to take some time.

There would be one more false alarm visit to the hospital that night. Around 9:00 the contractions kicked up another notch and we debated whether to go in--Andy called the hospital and the nurse encouraged us to get checked--better safe than sorry. So we made the trek to Utah Valley Hospital yet again. They hooked me to a monitor and left us for an hour and a half.  The contractions were 5 minutes apart and were good and strong. I was anxious to get checked and see what progress had been made. At 10:30 the nurse checked me and I was dilated to........drum roll here.....2. TWO! I decided I was never going to have the baby and labor was going to go on forever. The sweet nurse found out I hadn't eaten anything for over 24 hours and brought me some grape juice. She also offered me a shot of Demerol which she said would help me rest. Within minutes of the shot I was shaking all over and puking my guts up--along with the grape juice. While this was going on, I could hear screaming coming from down the hall. It chilled me to the bone as I thought about what was ahead for me--and I figured how ever bad it was at the moment--it was going to get worse, so I had best just buck up and deal with it.  Andy helped me back into my clothes and we drove back to the Chicken Coop.

Through all of this, Andy had also been writing a paper that was due the next morning. His professor had told the class that their only excuse for not turning it in on time would be death--their own death. So he was frantically trying to write in between the comings and goings and the checking and not progressing. I resigned myself to a long night of labor and told Andy to just work on his paper. I laid down on the bed and tried not to make too much noise so that he could concentrate. I was determined not to go in again until birth was imminent--I did NOT want to be sent home again. It seemed like every hour the contractions would kick up a notch. Andy came to bed about 1:30 am and told me to wake him up if I needed him. By then I was gripping the sides of the bed with every contraction and watching the clock with agony during the few minutes I had to catch my breath in between. Around 4:00 am things felt different. More of a pushing sensation. I woke Andy up and he was a little groggy as we prepared to make the all too familiar trek to the hospital. He was upset that I had waited so long and was afraid my water would break in the car. Because it would be a tragedy to have that happen in our ancient, beat-up Plymouth station wagon. I grabbed a towel to make him feel better.

By the time we got to the hospital, I couldn't walk. Andy grabbed a wheelchair and took me into the lobby where I waited while he parked the car. We got in the elevator and stopped on the maternity floor--as the doors opened, the nurse standing there saw my condition and said "I guess this is the place you want." Andy said "No, she's having a baby!" and closed the doors and went up another floor. He sheepishly realized his flustered mistake and got us back to the right floor. I was taken to a labor room and hoisted myself onto a bed. The nurse checked me and said "Seven!" I wanted to cry--I knew I had three more centimeters to go and figured it was going to be hours longer. The sweet nurse reassured me that birth was close and I would not be sent home again. I was so relieved. The doctor made his appearance about then and said "What a pioneer woman you are! You went through all the hard labor by yourself!" I gave him a glazed look.

From there I was wheeled into the delivery room. Everything was shiny and sterile. Andy was outfitted in sterile scrubs from head to toe--I could only see his eyes above the mask. The nurse told me to scoot over onto the bed. I said, "You've got to be kidding me." I couldn't move. So she and Andy shoved and dragged me over. There I began the final pushing. It was excruciating but I figured the harder I pushed, the sooner it would be over. The nurse kept trying to get me to put my feet in the stirrups and I kept using the stirrup posts for leverage. She finally gave up and let me do it my way.  After about 20 minutes of pushing, the doctor made three quick cuts for an episiotomy and then one more.  Scott made his appearance and the doctor startled me with a shout of "POSTERIOR!" Scott was born posterior presentation. The doctor informed me that he was surprised I pushed him out so fast considering that and the fact that he had a ginormous head. But, there he was! We waited to hear the gender and the doctor held him up to suction his mouth and nose and then announced: "It's a boy!" He laid him up on my belly and I reached down to touch him. The doctor yelled "Don't touch!" and startled me yet again. I didn't realize I was about to contaminate my own baby--nevermind that he just came out of my body. The doctor cut the cord and the nurse wiped him off, wrapped him in a little blanket and handed him to Andy. Andy pulled up a chair next to me and we admired the fruits of my labor. He was beautiful and perfect. His face was shiny and he had just enough hair to cover his head. It was dark but reflected the light. He looked around quietly and turned his head toward me when I said "Scott". I was deliriously happy. I hardly noticed all the stitching going on to piece me back together as I admired our son. I couldn't wait to get my hands on him.

 I got to make another painful shift from the bed to a gurney and at last, my baby was placed in my arms and I snuggled him as I was wheeled to recovery. They took Scott to the nursery so he could be thoroughly inspected, weighed and measured. There were exclamations of surprise by all the nurses as well as the gaggle of student nurses who were hovering over me when Andy came to tell me the stats: 9 lbs. 2 oz. and 20 inches long. That's a pretty big boy.

Later, alone in my hospital room, I finally got the chance to hold him. According to my journal : "I will never forget the feeling of holding him just the two of us alone for the first time (Andy went home, got showered etc and went to class--he had a paper due after all! He was on cloud nine!) Such a beautiful little boy--tiny nose, ears, hands, feet and toes. I unwrapped him and looked at his little feet; there was even a teeny little toe nail on his smallest toe! He was asleep so I just held him and admired him. He has quite a lot of hair and the nurses had parted it on the side. He looks just like his daddy--he even has a little cleft in his little chin!"

We took Scott home to our little chicken coop house on a snowy night, two days later. We didn't have a car seat or a stroller or a high chair. We had borrowed a bassinet from our friends in the house in front of us. Most of the baby clothes we had were hand-me-downs. We didn't have a washer or dryer so we scraped money together when we could to go to the laundromat-- but in between, I washed out his little baby clothes in the kitchen sink and hung them by the wood stove to dry. We knew it was time to do the laundry when we got down to the pair of flowery pink pajamas that Andy hated to see on his son--and were only used as a last resort before laundry was done. We didn't have TV or any of the luxuries of the time. But somehow, Scott didn't seem to mind.

On the Day You Were Born

Shanna Marie 

Jan. 1987~3 months old

When I was five months along with Shanna, we moved from our tiny trailer house to our first "real" house. We settled in and Dad began the remodel that would go on for over a decade. Moving walls, tearing up carpet and sheetrock, adding on, jackhammering concrete. He started with the front yard. He decided it needed a waterfall and fountain that covered the whole front yard. So that is what he was doing on the Saturday morning when labor started.  Shanna surprised us by coming into the world two days before her due date. It was General Conference weekend and it was in the days before you could get it on TV in our area. We were going to go to the stake center to watch it, but my labor changed our plans.  Because of a mix-up in Siara's due date we thought she was three and a half weeks overdue--but it turned out she was about a week early. I didn't put it all together until several children later.  But in the meantime we just assumed that Shanna would go way past the due date and we didn't really have things ready. Like getting my sister there from Utah to watch Scott and Siara for us. Or getting a crib. So when labor started, we called Rebecca and made flight arrangements for her to come that day. Then we went to Toys R Us and bought a crib. We brought the crib home and Andy put it together while I washed the bedding.

Shanna Oct. 4, 1986
The Hospital Pic

I should mention here that we didn't have an ultra sound so we didn't know what gender we were having. I decided it was a boy because I felt the same way I had with Scott and she was less hyper-active in utero than Siara had been. (I really did eventually learn to stop using my ridiculous logic to make leaps in assumption.) But we had only picked out a boys name: Christopher Joseph. If Shanna had been a boy, it would have changed the course of history in our family because the "S" thing would have stopped with her.

I should also mention here that about three weeks earlier, we had suffered through the ordeal of a head lice outbreak. It was running rampant through the schools and thus through our ward. Scott was not quite three years old  and Siara was 19 months Since I was a newbie in the lice detection arena, I didn't catch it until several generations had established themselves in our hair. Yes, OUR hair. My lovely pregnancy-thickened hair was also infested. We were a snuggly family and I spent a lot of time with them on my lap or laying next to them reading so of course I got them too.  Our doctor gave us the poisonous concoction Quell (now banned by the EPA--yikes!) and told me to use gloves while applying. There is nothing like a lice crisis during the last exhausting month of pregnancy. 

Siara, Scott and baby Shanna with Aunt Rebecca

But back to our story. We picked my sister up from the airport at noon. By then the contractions were coming faster but still not hard at all. I showed Rebecca around the house and did several loads of laundry. Andy went out and did yard work. He told me to come get him when I was ready to go the hospital. Around 4:00 I decided it was getting close so I called Andy in and we took off. Vancouver Memorial had just added a new birthing wing and I was hoping to get one of the two much touted birthing rooms. The nurse put me in a labor room to check me and told me I was dialated to 5. I thought "Oh darn! This is going to take forever!" But there was a birthing room free so she had me wrap up in the sheet and walk down the hall to it. It didn't even really seem like I was in labor. (I am quoting from my journal here) Once I got into the birthing room things sped up. I heard the nurse talking to the doctor on the phone and she was trying to talk him into coming. I guess he thought I would be awhile. At 5:15 (I was watching the clock) I got all weepy and told Andy "This is taking so long!" Next thing I knew, I was in transition and pushing. The nurse kept saying "Don't push! Blow it away!" Trying to buy time for Dr. Williams. Finally we heard him in the hall. The nurse ran out and said "Get your buns in here! She's delivering!" I pushed as soon as the nurse turned her back and the doctor barely made it in time to catch her. She was born at 5:32. Seventeen minutes after I said it was taking too long.  Andy said "A girl!" as soon as she was born. Dr. Williams laid her up on me and she was crying and kicking. She calmed down quickly and started sucking on her tongue. She looked around the room and up at me.  Andy got to cut the cord, then everyone started guessing her weight. The doctor said "She's small, I'd say 7 lb 5 oz or so." The nurse agreed. Andy said "No, 8 lbs 2 oz." He went with them to see her weighed and measured and when the nurse came back she said "Your husband had it almost right on the nose--she's 8 lbs 4 oz.!" 

Shanna's beautiful curls: Age 18 months

Once we were settled into a room, Andy's parents brought my sister and Scott and Siara in to see the new baby. They each held her and Scott had a million questions: "Mom, your tummy went away--did she come out of there? Are you going to put her back in when you come home? Her name is Joseph huh!" 

Shanna Age 2

I stayed in the hospital until Monday morning. The nurses oohed and awwwed over Shanna's beautiful curls and she charmed everyone by sleeping through the night the first night--I kept her in the room with me which was almost unheard of back then. They kept asking me if they could take her for me so I could rest. But I wanted her to myself while I had the chance. She was calm from the start and kept that disposition clear up until high school drama kicked in. She also kept those beautiful curls--though she cursed them as often as I pointed out how lucky she was to have them. 

Now that sweet baby with the bouncy curls is a mama herself. 

And her calm disposition is getting her through the sleepless nights.

 Happy Birthday Nunny!

The End of an Era

Today is Shane's birthday. As I mentioned previously, he is at Scout Camp--and he is not too happy about that.  But somehow he will survive and we will celebrate when he gets home.

 Shane turns 13. So this marks a milestone for our family as the last of the eight young 'uns becomes a teenager. No more "little kids" in the Gale Family. Luckily, we have grandchildren coming along to fill the void but it is still a big change for us.

A few days before Shane was born, we celebrated the Fourth of July with the neighbors in our cul de sac (that was back when we lived in the house behind the church--as it is affectionately known). I waddled out to see the fireworks and did my best to keep a very excited Sam and Shayla from bodily harm with so many rambunctious youngsters flailing around sparklers and the like. Shane was due on the 14th which happens to be Shayla's birthday and I remember hoping he would come sooner. Partly because I was a bit weary of pregnancy after spending a total of 6 years in that condition--and also so that they wouldn't have to share a birthday. Shayla was already indignant that she was getting another brother, I didn't want to compound her resentment by having her little brother usurp her birthday.

Luckily, he was very accommodating and I started into labor 2 days later. I  had early stage contractions off and on during the day. Nothing tough but steady and constant.  I hadn't packed a bag yet so I thought I should get that done. I also kept busy all day doing laundry and cleaning house. We had family scripture and prayer and tucked the little ones into bed. Later, the older kids were gathered in our room wondering if I was really in labor. I told them I was sure it was the real deal but the contractions weren't really as strong as I thought they should be. I didn't want to go in too soon because I wanted to walk through labor and not be tied to a monitor too early. We watched the news and Jay Leno. By 12:30 the contractions were five minutes apart and felt stronger. Andy got ready to go and I threw in one more load of laundry. When we got to the hospital, I was dilated to six--I was glad to know it was for real. We walked around for 30 minutes and the contractions got harder and closer. Andy had a sore knee (this according to my journal--I don't remember the injury--it was a few years later that the whole thing gave out so maybe this was some foreshadowing) and he didn't want to walk anymore. So we went back to the room and he dozed off on the couch while I paced back and forth another half hour or so. At 2:30 am I knew transition was beginning so I woke up the hubs and sat on the bed.

Shane was posterior presentation so the last bit of labor was very painful. It didn't feel like the contractions were making progress--just putting a lot of pressure on my back. It was hard to relax between contractions because my back hurt so bad. It brought back memories of my first labor--Scott was the only other posterior baby. I remember telling the doctor to just cut a hole in my back and get the baby out that way. That got some laughs but I wasn't really kidding.  My water broke right before the last few pushes and there was meconium in the water. The doctor wanted me to back off after his head was delivered to allow for some suctioning but I really couldn't finesse the pushing and he came out all at once. He was born at 3:08 am.  She suctioned him quickly and he was fine. He cried once and quickly calmed down.  Andy cut the cord and  the Dr. laid Shane on my chest. He had so much hair it flowed around his head and it was light like Scott's. He looked small to me and I thought his head looked smaller than Sam's so I was surprised when they told me he was 8 lbs. 11 oz.--exactly the same weight as Sam. He was 20" long.

The doctor and nurses told me his face was bruised because of the posterior birth. I looked over him carefully and I just couldn't see it. To me he was precious and perfect. I kept him in the room with me after he was born and after the crowd dispersed, I nursed him and enjoyed some bonding time with him. He looked up at me and smiled and gave a little giggle. That gave me a glimpse of his adorable dimples. A few weeks later when his hospital pictures came in the mail (kids--that was in the days before digital cameras--we actually had to wait for pictures to get developed. Archaic I know!) I was surprised to see that his face was bruised pretty badly--he looked like a little prizefighter! I couldn't believe I hadn't seen it before; and the bruises must have healed quickly because there aren't any in pictures a few days later.

Andy came to pick us up around noon and we bundled up our little bundle of joy and took him home to meet his siblings. He was welcomed enthusiastically and rambunctiously by his seven brothers and sisters and he settled in quickly to our lively household. He was born on a Tuesday and on Thursday there was a Mother/Daughter Relief Society activity. Siara and Shanna had been looking forward to it for weeks because it involved making jewelry. I recovered a little faster with each child (amazing how much better you feel when you don't have to deal with stitches!) so I pulled it together and took Shane and the girls to the church for the evening. A few people gave me a hard time for being out so soon and I said "Hey, I was at church last Sunday and I felt A LOT more miserable than I do now!"  Siara and Shanna had a good time making cute bracelets and necklaces with their friends and I enjoyed visiting with friends.

Andy was the Bishop of our ward (he had been sustained as Bishop two years prior-- the day Sam was blessed--that was quite a day!) and President of a rapidly growing company. He had to travel a great deal and we were at full capacity with the various ages and stages of our family. Shane came into the middle of all that and carved out his own special niche in the family. He loved trying to keep up with the brothers and sister just ahead of him and he basked in the attention he got from the older kids and their friends.

On July 8, 1998 I wrote in my journal:
"Pregnancy and childbirth are painful, difficult and a true test of endurance. The baby that is the result of the pain and sacrifice make it worth it. That awful pain always turns to exquisite joy when that baby is laid up on my chest--and that is how I have felt with every one of my babies."

That could also be a good description of raising teenagers: It is painful, difficult and a true test of endurance. But the adult that is a result of the pain and sacrifice make it worth it. 


So Shane, here we go.

Wolves and Bears and Pox, Oh My! Seth's Birth Story

Seth: The Day He Was Born

Seth is our fifth child, and at the time I was due with him I was the Cub Scout Den Leader in our ward.  I was a very enthusiastic Cubber. Attending Round Tables and Pow Wows for ideas and inspiration, collecting egg cartons and juice cans for projects. I even taught myself to use Andy's woodworking tools so I could help them make birdhouses and toolboxes. Then I got really crazy and decided to recruit some more boys from the community so we would have bigger dens and spread the fun. We set up a table at the elementary school with our enticing display and stacks of brochures. And we ended up with TWELVE NEW CUB SCOUTS!! Crazy yes?

So as I was coming down the home stretch with Seth, I was herding a big group of boys through our rough and tumble den meetings every week. And then, the chicken pox came to visit. First Scott and Siara went through them, then two weeks to the day later, the pox struck Shanna and Spencer. It was so miserable for them and a little challenging for their mother being great with child, to lean over the bathtub and slather them with oatmeal or reach all the itchy spots with Caladryl and sooth them through their feverish nights.I was worried about the baby being exposed to chicken pox in utero but my midwife assured me that my immunities would protect him.

We had changed insurance since I had Spencer and I had a wider range of choice than I had before with Kaiser, so I decided to go with a midwife: Ann Morten. I felt like we were kindred spirits--she had five children and I was having my fifth. She was an advocate of herbal and natural remedies and we enjoyed discussing the mothering arts and she was interested in my Grandmother's herbal remedies. She also told me about her adventures as a young mom serving a mission for her church with her husband in Guatemala. She encouraged me to bring the other kids in to hear the baby's heartbeat and she was really like a good friend and not just a medical provider.

 One week before Seth was born I went in for my appointment and she couldn't get a heartbeat. She brought in a portable ultrasound (very new technology at the time) and did a quick look. I had not had an ultrasound up to that point with Seth so I didn't know what we were having. As she looked around, I was pretty sure I saw compelling evidence that he was a boy although Ann wouldn't commit. But more important, we saw his little heart beating away and he began kicking and wiggling. Speaking of which, he was the wiggliest little baby. All through the pregnancy he would wear me out at night with his acrobatics. She asked me if I wanted her to strip the membranes--sometimes it will kick-start labor. The last few weeks of pregnancy are so exhausting and I felt so miserable and sore it made labor and delivery look good! I said yes please and she did. I started having contractions on the way home from the clinic and got my hopes up that maybe that was it. But, it was a false alarm. 

I was really hoping that it was labor because I had been asked to speak in church that Sunday-- Easter Sunday--I was thinking maybe it would give me a good excuse to get out of the talk. Not that I am advocating getting out of doing what you are asked--just for the record--I was just a tired, pregnant mama. So, I dragged my pregnant self out of bed on Easter morning and got my four precious children ready and off to church. I waddled up to the pulpit and gave my talk--joking that I was in labor and if I had the baby there on the stand, it was the Bishop's fault for asking a nine month pregnant woman to speak. 

It turned out that real labor started the following Thursday late in the afternoon. There was an open house and ice cream social at Dorothy Fox Elementary school where Scott was in the 2nd grade. I really wanted to go for his sake--he had been looking forward to it for weeks. The contractions were steady but not getting any closer together. We had ice cream and visited Scott's classroom and talked to his teacher. My good friend Linda was "on call" to take the kids when I had the baby and I saw her there. I told her I was planning to go to the hospital after the open house and she said to bring the kids over. So when we got home, we packed over-night bags for everyone and dropped them off at "The Lindas" as they called her and her bunch. 

We got to the hospital at 8:30 and I realized we had not had time for Andy to give me a blessing, so we took care of that there in the car in the parking lot. He blessed me that it "would go quickly and with a minimum of pain". Then we went in and I got checked--I was dilated to 5.  They called our midwife and we walked around while they prepped the birthing room. When we got into the room, I was at 8+. Our midwife had been out having a romantic dinner with her husband on their boat. She had to get to shore and then to the hospital. She came in and dimmed the lights and she was so calm and relaxed it completely put me at ease. She and Andy chit-chatted while I went quickly into transition. It was only two hard pushes for the head and one for the rest of him. And there he was! He started hollering immediately--he had lots of black hair and a very red, angry face--he seemed unhappy to be pushed out so fast into the cold world. Andy got to participate more in the delivery than he had with the first four children and he cut the cord.. I held Seth right away and he calmed down. I wrote in my journal that "he was so warm and slippery but beautiful and wonderful". I didn't ask if he was a boy or girl--or even look to see. Andy did that and announced "A boy! Another boy!" He weighed 7 lbs. 7 oz. and was 19" long. He was the smallest of our babies and he actually fit into newborn undershirts. 

He was born at 11:35 and by the time we were all cleaned up and tucked in for the night, I started feeling really warm. As the night wore on, I couldn't sleep because I was burning up. I buzzed for the nurse and asked her to turn the heat down. She saw that it wasn't even on and then checked my temperature. I had a fever. She decided to drown the fever with water and other beverages and began forcing me to drink about a gallon every hour (that is only a slight exaggeration). I was so delirious I didn't care. I nursed Seth each time he woke up and got up to go to the bathroom many times and somehow made it through the night. They wouldn't discharge me until my fever went down, so I had to stay all the next day. By late afternoon, Seth  had a slightly elevated temperature. I felt better and my fever was gone so I got ready to check out. That was when I was informed that Seth would have to stay in the hospital until his fever went down. The thought of leaving the hospital without my baby dissolved me into tears. I insisted on staying so that I could nurse him. I had no intention of abandoning him to strangers and formula. The nurse looked at me like I was crazy. I told her I would sit in a chair next to his bed or hang out in the waiting room between feedings.  She left and came back with the news that there was a tiny room near the nursery where I could sleep so that I could take care of my baby. Just as I was settling in, the pediatrician came in to talk to me about Seth's condition. After a few minutes he turned to the nurse and said, "This is her fifth child--let her take her baby home and take care of him. She's perfectly capable of giving him the Tylenol."

The Siblings Meeting Their New Baby Brother

So, we bundled up our little Seth and brought him home--as quickly as possible before someone changed their mind. He was happily welcomed by his siblings and settled into our crazy family life. He was born on a Thursday and the following Thursday I took him to Cub Scouts with me. He sat happily in his car seat in the old Scout House in Crown Park where we held our den meetings. I had planned a game of Frisbee baseball to channel some of the boisterous energy of my Pack of Wolves and Bears so we went outside and split up for teams. We were one short so as Den Leader I felt it my duty to take up the slack. We enjoyed a fun game and I even made a home run! Seth sat on the sidelines and slept. I took a bit of teasing later from some of the moms of the boys--they couldn't believe I was out running around so soon after having a baby. It just felt so good not to be pregnant any more.

On May 6th, 13 days after Seth was born, I wrote in my journal: "It is miraculous to give birth and have each child be so precious and instantly take their place in the family. I hold him or look at him in the crib when he's sleeping and I'm overwhelmed with love and amazement that we could be so blessed!" And that pretty much sums it up.