My Toddler, the Hipster

D2’s taken a liking to “taking photos.” My wife and I both dabble in photography, so D2 has been imitating us with the toy camera we bought for her. Last week, I decided to have a little hipster fun and let D2 take a mirror self portrait – I’m sure you’ve seen them before, or maybe you were taking mirror self portraits before they became so mainstream. Here’s the result.

Self-portraits with real cameras are so mainstream

I love her asymmetrical pigtails.

This post is part of #iPPP (iPhone Photo Phun), where we link up photos taken from our smart phones. Any smart phone.

Wordless Wednesday: Juicy Couture’s Got Nothing on These Thighs

This is what off-the-chart thighs look like

Who doesn't love baby feet?

A Letter to My Daughter: Keep Smiling

Dear Daughter #2,

I’ve written a few letters to your older sister, like this one, but this is my first letter on this blog to you.

It’s hard to believe, but today, you are 5 months old. I wrote this post a little less than 5 months ago, but it seems like ages since I wrote it. Why? Because it’s hard to imagine my life without you.

I hate leaving for work in the mornings because I have to kiss two beautiful girls goodbye and leave them at home. I can’t wait to get home and hear about all the new things you’re doing – these days, you’re sticking out your tongue and it’s thisclose to cuteness overload. I know this may sound weird, but I love squishing my face in your juicy thighs and arms. Can you blame me? Your thighs are exceptionally juicy. Your older sister carried all of her baby fat in her cheeks (good lawd do I miss sucking those chubby cheeks), but you? It goes straight to your thighs (I may have to go against your mom’s will and post a picture of your thighs on here later so that everyone can see how awesome they really are). Yeah it’s been awhile since mommy and daddy have gotten a good night’s sleep, especially now that you’re teething, but you’ve brought so much joy to our lives.

You made me smile when we took you in for your 4 month checkup and our pediatrician, who looked at your chart outside the office, walked into the exam room and began by saying, “So, D2 is almost a year old….oh, she’s only almost as big as a 1-year-old.” You make me laugh when you strain really hard during tummy time and let out a fart. And you impress me in both the frequency and quality of your explosive poops and I’m often left quoting Ron Burgundy: “How’d you do that? Heck, I’m not even mad; that’s amazing.”

But the best thing you’ve brought into our lives is your smile. Most babies make people work for a smile, requiring them to make funny faces, ridiculous sounds (WOOJEEWOOJEE WOO!!!), spastic movements, or a combination of all three. In fact, your sister used to make me work for a smile and I often looked even more foolish in public. But it was so worth it. Not you. You smile when someone simply makes continued eye contact with you. So much so, that most people we run into comment that you’re the happiest baby they’ve ever seen.

Life, however, will often seek to take away your smile. Daddy’s been stressed as of late, and it’s been hard for me to smile. When you read about the ridiculous things that people do, it definitely doesn’t make you want to smile. Like a county executive who was arrested for corruption who, along with his wife, continue to maintain their innocence, despite FBI agents finding $80,000 in her bra. Or you read that taxpayers are subsidizing a car that 1) they can’t really buy as there’s only limited production and 2) may not help the environment that much. You’ll often find more things to shake your head about and fewer things to smile about.

But you smiling at strangers and friends/family alike is a reminder to me that good exists in people; that someone shouldn’t make me smile because of what they do or don’t do, but simply for existing. Never underestimate the power of a kind word or a smile. Don’t let life suck away your joy; bring joy to the lives of others. Keep smiling, kiddo.

Love,
Pop

Wordless Wednesday: The Gun Show

Did you get your tickets?

Birth Story: The Perfect Child

They put the baby on my wife’s chest and as I beheld her for the first time, I thought, “Wow…she’s perfect.” I cried uncontrollably when my first daughter was born because I was overwhelmed with joy. The joy was still the same for our second, but I didn’t shed a tear. Looking back, I think the peace God gave me when our friend said the child would be perfect was the difference. For our first, I was so worried about her health – it’s hard not to be paranoid when you read about all the things that can go wrong in development and birth. So when she came out healthy and let out a strong, healthy cry, 9-months of build up was released. For our second, I had no such worries and enjoyed the development and birth process.

As a frugal dad, I was happy it was a girl since we wouldn’t need to buy new clothes and toys.

I noticed our second daughter (from hereon, I’ll be referring to her as D2 and our first as D1 for simplicity) had a hairy back and ears. D1 has the same birthmark my wife does on her left forearm; D2 doesn’t. If we have a 3rd child and he/she has the birthmark, I imagine D2 will be teased about being adopted. D2 had really long fingers and toes, and nails, and her hair was black with light brown highlights. I rubbed her skin with the back of my hand – I’ve yet to touch anything that feels a soft as baby skin. I took a step back, looked at her and marveled at this gift God has given me; I fell in love.

The midwife clamped the cord and gave me the shears to cut it with. It takes 3 licks to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Pop; it takes 2 strong snips for me to get through the umbilical cord. I said a prayer and welcomed D2 into the world.

The midwife and nurse told my wife what a wonderful job she did and said, “That was a perfect birth! We didn’t have to coach you to push or anything! Just perfect.” They insisted they weren’t just saying that, and that the methodical way my wife pushed out the baby was perfect. She did tear a bit however, as our baby girl’s elbow nicked her perineum on the way out.

D2 eventually found her way to my wife’s nipple and it’s amazing how a baby instinctively knows how to feed. The nurse looked at the latch and said, “Her latch looks perfect.”

We had a pool of names picked out and with the birth being symbolic of something being birthed in this generation, we chose a name that meant something we wanted to see for the next generation of kids.

A few hours later, our family began to arrive. My mother-in-law and brother-in-law came first. Later, my mom and my sister brought D2. It probably wasn’t the best idea to wake D2 up at 4:30 in the morning and bring her to the birth center. I gave D2 a big hug and spent some quality time with her before taking her in to meet her new sister.

I imagined their meeting would be all sweet and cuddly. Instead, the look on my daughter’s face was like the face most people make when they walk into a porta-potty and see the pile of crap that has amassed in the blue-turned-green liquid. Whenever D2 cried, we all paid attention to her and D1 picked up on this and began to cry whenever D2 did. When anyone held D2, D1 asked that person to pick her up. Imagining the emotions that D1 was experiencing, I began to cry. But I took solace in the fact that I knew they’d be best friends eventually.

I took a quick nap in the birth center. Well, maybe it wasn’t very quick because in that time, my wife was able to nurse, shower, change, and grab something to eat. Shortly after I woke up, they weighed and measured D2: 8lb5oz and 20″. While she was being measured, D2 pooped. When she was placed on the scale, D2 pooped again. Then just before we put on the diaper, she pooped again. At about 7:30, after running through a few things with the nurse, it was time to go home.

As we got to the door, D1 asks, “Daddy, is baby going to stay here alone with the doctor?” “No,” I told her, “She’s family and she’s coming home with us.” When we got home, my daughter asked, “Daddy, are we going to leave the baby in the car?” This difficulty adjusting totally caught my wife and I by surprise. At one point when we were waiting for labor to begin, my wife asked if I had any regrets for leaving the retreat early. I had none because I treasured the last days I got to spend with my family as a family of 3. And now with the range of emotions D1 was struggling with, I’m so grateful to God that I had a few days to love on my firstborn.

We took D2 and D1 to our pediatrician later that morning. The nurse examined, weighed and measured D2. Later, the pediatrician came and said, “So she’s in the 80th percentile for height…and 80th percentile for weight. She’s perfect. And for her head circumference…50th percentile. Just perfect.” Being Korean, having an average-sized head, especially when her Pop’s head is far above average, is a pretty big deal.

Over the next few days, we heard that word a lot in regards to D2. Being the dull guy I am, I didn’t really notice but my wife brought it to my attention and it will be something we both treasure in our hearts for the rest of our lives.

It’s not so much that our specific child is perfect, but a reminder that children are a perfect gift from God.

Parenting isn’t easy, as it can be physically, emotionally, and spiritually draining. And I’ve made so many mistakes with D1, that I’m thanking God for the mulligan He’s giving me with D2.

I’m far from a perfect parent, and my children aren’t perfect either; but they are God’s perfect gift to me. Every now and then–usually every 3 hours when D2 wakes up–I miss being married without children. But overall I’m happy to be a dad and I’m going to try to be the best dad I can be.

As I’ve reflected on D2’s birth story over the past week, it’s amazing to see how God was guiding each step. And knowing that He’ll guide each step hereafter, gives me incredible peace. I may not be perfect, but God gave me a perfect gift, and He has a perfect plan.

Thanks for reading!

Birth Story: It’s a……!!!!!!!

As the midwife began the pelvic exam, water gushed forth. I like keeping a clean house, so I smiled quite a bit inside knowing I wouldn’t have to clean up the mess. The midwife told us my wife was at 7cm and 80% effaced so he told us to stay. Once again, for the uninitiated, cervical dilation is complete at 10cm and delivery of the infant takes place shortly thereafter, so we didn’t have very far to go. I ran out to the car and grabbed all of our bags. Yes, bags. DSLR bag, camcorder bag, bag with all the baby stuff (diapers, onesies, blankets, wipes), and my wife’s snack and drink bag (pita chips, trail mix and water). I expended quite a bit of effort to get all those bags on my person so that I could take them all in one trip and of course, my keys are in the pocket opposite my free hand. I always do this.

To give you some background, my wife and I chose to do a natural birth for both of our children. Scratch that. My wife chose to do natural birth. As the man, I believe natural birth is beneficial and doable, but that’s like the punter on a football team saying that he thinks contact in the NFL isn’t a big deal. Yes, the punter plays a role on the team, but ultimately, he doesn’t get hit and if he does, it’s a penalty.  So yeah, fellas out there: share your opinion but know your role – or this could happen.

For our daughter, we went with the Bradley Method. Although our class was immensely helpful in understanding pregnancy and labor, the method ultimately didn’t do much for us as my wife despised the sound of my voice and my touch during labor. For her, she liked to enter into a zone whenever the contractions came on, so I sat by praying my butt off. For our second, we decided to try HypnoBirthing at the recommendation of a friend.

The name makes it sound like I get out a watch and say, “You are not in pain…you are going to have a baby…” or something like that. And some posts on the Web will lead you to believe the method is of the devil – but we all know only foosball is the devil. After reading the book, we were led to believe that people who posted such things likely based their conclusions on the title and a few select anecdotes. In fact, the author talks at length about birth being God’s plan and has Scripture littered throughout the book. Granted, that doesn’t mean HypnoBirthing is the work of God, but just don’t believe everything you read on the Web.

HypnoBirthing seems to have 2 key components: 1) the book works really hard to psyche you up about being able to deliver the child naturally and 2) there are several audio tracks where a woman guides you through visualization exercises. When we told our midwife we were thinking of doing HypnoBirthing, she told us that when it works, it’s great, but it’s problematic for the women who experience lots of pain and who had HypnoBirthing as their sole source of pain management.

I setup our iPod and turned on her favorite visualization exercise. The woman’s voice is incredibly relaxing and the visualizations helped my wife relax when the “surges” came – HypnoBirthing goes to great lengths to use terms that sound more positive. Her contractions were roughly 5 minutes apart. Some lasted upwards of a minute and a half, and others lasted as little as 15 seconds. We alternated between walking around and her sitting on the birth ball and going through the visualizations. Once again, it helped for me to keep completely quiet unless asked, and my hands to myself.

It’s midnight and I’m still by her side, timing contractions. You know how Apple says, “There’s an app for that”? Yup. There are numerous apps for timing contractions. I stupidly didn’t even think about downloading one of them.

It’s now 1am and we’re both fighting to stay awake. A few days prior, I thought about packing some coffee but thought better of it since I didn’t want my baby’s first impression of me to be stinky coffee breath. While my wife is doing her visualizations on the birth ball, I’m doing pushups and jumping jacks trying to stay awake. My wife’s contractions aren’t getting any closer together and the intensity has remained fairly constant. The visualizations seem to help a lot for pain management.

It’s now 2am and to be honest, I was DYING! I imagined my child being born and me snoring away, passed out on the wooden floor. And the HypnoBirthing woman’s relaxing voice wasn’t helping very much. Our birth center doesn’t really do pelvic exams unless it seems there is quite a bit of progression or we ask, but since my wife’s contractions weren’t getting any closer together, they just made sure the baby’s heartbeat was ok. At 2:05am, I ask my wife if she wants a pelvic exam just so that we can see how much she’s progressing. She agreed.

The midwife came in and he said that my wife was still at 7cm. Three hours of labor and we haven’t progressed?!?! My heart sunk and I was now kicking myself for forgoing coffee. “The good news is,” the midwife said, “that you’re now 100% effaced.” This is like getting to the theme park only to find that you’re too short to ride anything. It sucks.

For my wife’s sake, I tried really, really hard not to look disappointed, but since I’ve never been good at hiding my emotions to begin with, I’m pretty sure I wasn’t doing a good job of it at 2:05am.

The nurse suggested my wife take a shower since the water on her nipples might kick start the labor. We got my wife’s shower cap and slippers ready. And just as she was about to get in the shower, a massive surge/contraction hits. Then a few minutes later, another.

It might’ve been the pelvic exam; it might’ve been my desperate pleas to the baby to come soon. Whatever it was, the baby was coming. And fast.

Contractions started to get really intense and the HypnoBirthing was becoming increasingly ineffective. Maybe with more practice, the HypnoBirthing may have worked, but it became pretty useless so we turned on some relaxing music.

Low moans really helped my wife as did me applying counter pressure on her hips during each contraction. She found it really helpful to lean on the birth ball with her arms while resting on her knees on the bed. Time is moving incredibly fast at this point and it seems the contractions are right on top of each other. At this point, I’m glad I’ve been working out because squeezing her hips for the better part of an hour was an intense bicep/forearm workout.

Around 2:55am, the midwife and nurse came in and got their gloves on – based on my wife’s moans, they knew she was in transition. At this point, I step away from my wife because there’s a lot going on down there. So I do the fatherly thing and get my camera ready.

At 3:02am, I can see the head about to crown. There are somethings I just cannot get used to seeing: skinny jeans on guys, glitter on vampires, and a baby’s head crowning. I find the latter to be the least unnerving.

And even though it was the second time I’ve seen a birth, I still ended up thinking, “There’s NO way that’s going to fit…OMG…it’s gonna fit….OMG OMG OMG OMG.” Leave it to childbirth to reduce me to a school girl who just saw Eclipse.

Some of you may have heard of the ring of fire in childbirth. That’s when the head is about to crown and the vaginal opening is at its widest and the sensation is often described as a ring of fire. Grab a turtleneck from 15 years ago and try to fit your head through and you may have an idea what it looks like. This is the point where I think, “OMG…my wife’s vag is going to explode.”

Without any coaching, my wife slowly and methodically pushed out the baby.

*bloop* out comes the head…the baby turns a bit and

*bloop* out comes the arm and

*bloop* out comes the baby

I ran and looked and…IT’S A GIRL!!!! IT’S A GIRL!!!

Tomorrow: I conclude the Birth Story with The Perfect Child

Birth Story: The Waiting Game

Once I got that text from my wife, I asked my boss if I could leave. There are certain things in life that illicit a, “Say no more” from men. Two of those things are menstruation and water breaking. We don’t know all that goes on with those things and we usually don’t want to know, so do what you gotta do but say no more. So I walk into my boss’s office and said

Me: Hey boss. My wife’s water just broke so…

Boss: [interrupting me, holding up his hand as if stiff-arming a defender] Say no more. Go.

A lot has changed in childbirth over the decades. For example,  men other than doctors can now be actively involved in the labor and delivery process and technology has advanced significantly. But a few things seem to remain constant: 1) that white birth blanket with blue and red/pink stripes and 2) the mystery and awe surrounding the water breaking. As I was leaving the office, I could hear my coworkers saying, “Water broke? I remember getting that call,” and “Clean up. Aisle 6. Bring a mop.”

Since contractions hadn’t begun, I wasn’t in a huge rush and said a prayer for my wife as I drove home. As involved as us dads are now, there’s nothing we do that comes close to what the moms go through in labor. So I prayed for her health and the health of Baby #2 as his or her birth was drawing near.

I get home and my wife is leisurely surfing the Web, my daughter is reading a book, and my sister is finishing up some work. For the next few hours, it was really, really hard not to ask my wife if she was having contractions yet every few minutes – I would’ve been the equivalent of a kid asking, “Are we there yet? Are we there yet?”

So we wait. And wait. And wait.

June becomes July and my wife is as pregnant as ever. We go to sleep that night, fully aware that this could be the last night we get 8 straight hours of sleep in quite some time, but slightly disappointed that our new baby is not in our arms.

We wake up and of course, the first thing I say is, “Did you have any contractions?” In retrospect a “good morning,” or “I love you,” would’ve been better. Nope. None yet.

I took my daughter out that day but made sure to stay close to home. I saw a mother at Target who was either baby sitting kids or had a very fertile womb. Six kids! Some were on leashes – in 2010, parents not only take their pets but their kids out for walks. I’m not hating. If you’ve got six kids, you gotta do what you gotta do to corral them. Personally, I’d use duct tape and a flat-bed cart, but that’s just me. But seeing her kids pining for her attention made me a bit sad for my daughter. She’s still having issues sharing, but sharing your toys  is one thing; sharing your parents is completely different.

At that moment, I get a phone call from my wife and my heart starts racing.

Wife: Hi you. Could you pick up some (some item we needed) while you’re there?

Me: *whomp whomp* yeah…sure.

I get home and of course, the first thing I say is, “Hi honey.” Followed immediately with a “Feel anything yet?” 😛 Nope.

It’s now early in the evening and still nothing. During dinner, my wife still had a very good appetite so we figured the baby wouldn’t come anytime soon.

Then at 8:06pm, my wife had her first mild contraction. She’d been having smaller ones before, but this was the first sustained contraction. At 8:22pm, she had another one – 16 minutes apart, so I run to the cars and double-check to see if we have everything.

It’s now 8:50 and since I’ve restrained myself from asking my wife if she felt anything no less than 8 times, I figure I’m allowed to ask. Nope. Nothing.

So we wait.

At 9:50pm, I put our daughter down for bed and I’m thinking, “If this baby comes tonight, her world is going to be completely changed when she wakes up.”

At 9:58pm, my wife has a decent contraction where she had to stop what she was doing and focus.

10:05pm, another one. That’s 7 minutes apart! We call the midwife and ask him what we should do. Seven minutes isn’t very close but because my wife was so far along (4-5cm dilated 4 days ago), he wasn’t too sure what to do. He recommended waiting a bit more to see what would happen.

She had two more contractions at 10:12 and 10:19. At that point the midwife said to come in and we left our daughter at home with my sister at 10:25pm.

On the ride over, we figured we’d get sent back home since the contractions were getting farther apart – likely due to the change in scenery. In the car, they were about 9 minutes apart and pretty short in duration. But we figured it’d give us peace of mind to have her examined.

We got to the birth center at 11:07pm and I didn’t bring any of our bags in. The midwife examined my wife.

Tomorrow: Should we stay or should we go?

Birth Story: Daddy’s Home

Unlike the previous night, I slept pretty well and once again awoke to no missed calls or texts. I gathered the praise team together and went over some last-minute things for the rest of the retreat. We led the morning session and it was wonderful.

The Pastor friend, who prophesied before, said to the students that my wife and I were having a baby – a fact that pretty much everyone at the retreat knew. He said that not only is the birth important, but the energy and effort we expend in raising the child is important as well. In the same way, he said that this retreat was important for those in attendance but what’s important is how they will nurture and grow their faith in the next year, 5 years, decades. The parents of my daughter’s BFF were also expecting, though their due date was 5 days later than ours, and the Pastor spoke about how these births are symbolic of what is being birthed in this generation – that something new is coming forth.

The prevailing themes for me during the retreat were

1. The Father heart of God – Having had a fairly distant father growing up, I never understood why God would want to be called Father as it can carry a negative connotation for certain people. But after having my own child and being unable to put into words the love I feel as a father and the lengths to which I would go to nurture and protect my child, I now understand why.
2. How loud is the Gospel in my life? – And no, I don’t mean I’ll now be standing on street corners preaching about people’s need for Christ nor will I be a pushy, sleazy Christ salesman, but am I living as Christ lived? The Gospel means Good News, and everywhere Jesus went, He was good news, save for the religious establishment of the time. For the lepers, He was good news because He made them clean. For the blind He was good news because He made them see. Even for the adulterer, He was good news because He showed mercy before judgment. Am I good news to those I meet and encounter everyday?

The last bit of worship was intense!!! The only way I could describe it would be if a Rock festival of 800+ were held indoors and the music primarily followed a major chord progression. We were so loud that the University’s director had to come tell us to quiet down. It was awesome.

Afterward, my Pastor called me forward and he, along with all the students in attendance and the praise team I’ve grown to know and love, prayed for me and my family. Feeling immensely blessed, I grabbed my things and headed home.

To ensure I didn’t get lost on the way to the interstate, I asked our drummer to show me the way. If you’ve ever been in a band before, you know it’s never a good thing to be led by your drummer, but he knew the area well. I got in my car and I follow him out and WTH?!?!? The tire pressure light is on…

I call him and he pulls over and sure enough, I’ve got a nail in the right rear wheel – try saying that three times fast. It was a little after noon and the heat index was well above 100°F, but my friend tried to plug the tire to no avail because it punctured a bit into the sidewall, and put on the spare tire. Not too many people in the world as awesome–nor prepared for any roadside emergency–as he is.

So here I am – 180+ miles from home and driving on a spare on I-95. Normally, I’d be listening to music or an NPR Podcast (I love Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me) and driving pretty fast (always with the flow of traffic of course :-P) but because of the spare tire, I drove the speed limit in the right lane and had the radio off.

The contrast between the interior of my car and what was going on around me couldn’t have been greater. I drove for a little more than 3 hours having an awesome time talking with God as cars swerved around me telling me that I was #1. Sometimes, I just get used to having noise in my life, be it the radio, an iPod, the TV, or even the Internet, so three hours in relative silence and serenity was amazing, albeit uncomfortable initially.

Around 4pm, I was home. My daughter flew down the stairs and gave me a hug and kiss. I ran to my wife and gave her and Baby #2 a kiss. It was so good to be home.

I plopped down on the couch and read several books to my daughter; she couldn’t have been happier. She showed me new books she bought at the thrift store and she proudly showed me the new stickers she got on her potty chart. I sat down with my wife and we talked and talked and talked.  I held her hand, massaged her swollen right foot (she called it her Fiona foot), and spent some time singing and praying over Baby #2.

I love being in God’s presence with 800+ other people, but I also love being in God’s presence, just the 3–and soon to be 4–of us.

I took my daughter on a date that night to her favorite place on earth: Chick-Fil-A – a playground and ice cream, what more can a kid ask for? I sat there enjoying all of her little mannerisms, marveling at how many of my mannerisms and sayings she knows, and just enjoying this precious gift God entrusted me with. The rest of the evening was uneventful as far as Baby #2 goes.

I woke up the next morning and went to work. At 9:25am, I get this text:

I just lost my mucous plug

I looked up my daughter’s birth story and found that it was 12 hours from the lost mucous plug until birth, so no worries there.

Then at 9:46am, I get this text:

Not sure but my water may be leaking out. Feels wet down there.

Coming Monday: WTH are you waiting for?!?! Go, Pop, Go!!!

Thanks for reading and have a great weekend everyone!

Birth Story: Decisions, Decisions

Although I was thankful, I had a hard time sleeping. I was worried that contractions would begin for my wife overnight and since my phone only had a bar or two of reception in the dorm room, I was worried I’d miss the text or phone call. I finally fell asleep, no thanks to the uncomfortable dorm bed and the pipes I was laying next to.

At 6:30am on Monday morning, my alarm went off, I jumped out of bed and *whew* no missed calls or texts. For that morning’s devotion, I spent some time praying for my family and was overcome with excitement at the prospect of holding my second child in my arms. I read Isaiah 43 and was particularly struck by v.21: “The people whom I formed for Myself will declare My praise.” My daughter, who God formed, will declare His praise. Amen.

After breakfast–<sarcasm>mmmmmmm! University dining hall grub!</sarcasm>–we led another praise set, which was awesome. I never feel more alive than when I’m doing that which God formed me to do – two of those things are leading praise and BBQing. After the set was over, I went outside and texted my wife, asking how she was doing. This was her reply at 10:25am

Hi there! I’m at 4-5cm and soft and stretchy down there. So the midwife said that we should call at 6 min and come right away.

When we went in for an exam a week prior, my wife was just 1cm dilated. In my haste, I totally misunderstood the text and thought the midwife said we should come in in 6 minutes. I immediately called my wife and she told me she meant that when the contractions are six minutes apart and that she felt fine. She was on the way to the mall with my daughter and my brother-in-law and they planned on going swimming later. But I became so anxious.

For those that are unfamiliar with childbirth, 4-5cm is typically considered active labor. For my daughter, it took 3 hours from the time my wife’s cervix was 5cm until birth, so I began to worry if I could make it back on time. Since my wife was already at 4-5cm, what if the labor only took one hour? Not only would I miss the birth of my second child, but I’d miss it by a lot.

Then something hit me that I completely overlooked: even if I made the birth of our second, I wouldn’t have had any time to spend with my daughter and love on her before her whole world changed. Being the first born myself, I was deeply saddened by this.

So for the rest of the morning and early afternoon, I was alternately anxious and sad, and was wrestling with whether I should leave or not. I called my wife around 4:30pm and this was the gist of our conversation:

Me: How are you feeling?

Wife: Fine. No contractions yet or anything.

Me: I’m thinking of coming home.

Wife: You made a commitment to be there. You should stay.

Me: Yeah, but things changed. What if I miss the birth?

Wife: But what if I don’t progress at all? I’d feel terrible that you left.

Me: Yeah…I don’t know what to do…

[long pause…]

Wife: [fighting tears] I just wish you were here with me right now.

For me, my wife crying is my “Aw hell naw”: when she cries, aw hell naw you better not have made her cry. Sadly, it’s usually me who makes her cry. But no matter how resolute I feel about a position or decision, her tears transform me into a 190lb waffle.

The next hour or so was a flurry of emotions, which ended with this text from my wife:

I think I’ll be ok. I just had a rush of emotions. Of course I would like you here. But sometimes there are things that are more important.

I called her and told her that God Himself is the only thing that is more important to me than my family. But she encouraged me to stay.

I wrestled with my decision for the rest of the night. Thankfully, Baby #2 decided to stay in a little longer and my wife didn’t have any contractions. I sought the advice of other people I trusted and looked up to. After praise ended around 9:30pm, I decided that I was going home after the sermon and ministry time.

After the evening worship was over around 11:30pm, I caught up with my Pastor and told him I planned on leaving. He wished that I had told him sooner because he wanted to bless me before I left; he encouraged me to stay until after the morning session since he didn’t want me to drive when I was tired, I’d hit traffic if I left earlier in the morning, and he wanted to take time to bless me and my family.

I discussed this with my wife and she was ok with it. So I decided to stay and lead one more session on Tuesday morning – the due date.

But would I come to regret that decision?

Birth Story: Faith or Foolishness

So after the conference, my wife and I sat down to discuss our plans. Since our daughter was born four days after her due date, we figured our second would also be a few days late. Friends warned us however, that the timing of one child is not necessarily indicative of the other. Combined with the fact that some friends of ours had a preemie who ended up passing, my wife and I decided to err on the side of caution. I told the praise team that I might be there, but that in our preparations, we’d assume that I wouldn’t. I also ensured that my brother-in-law, mother and my sister would be available to help my wife around the house in case I did end up going to the retreat.

A month or so passes and Baby #2 is now in the final trimester. At this point, we’re both leaning towards me going to the retreat mainly because the retreat center–a University in Southern Virginia–is only three hours away from the birth center. Additionally, the retreat was from Sunday through Wednesday; our child was due on Tuesday. Since I planned on going from Sunday night through Tuesday night, I’d only be gone for a little more than two days. Still, people told us that labor with the second child is usually much quicker, but since labor was 18.5 hours with our first, we figured that if I left the retreat at the first contraction, I’d make it with time to spare. We were reasonably confident in this decision but I still prepared the team as if I wasn’t going to be there, just in case something happens.

Two months pass and the baby is now full term. With the retreat merely weeks away, my wife and I are still ok with me going. But then my wife has a conversation with her boss, who tells her that the labor for her second child was a total of four hours from the first contraction to birth. We’d never heard of labor being that fast before, so naturally, we Googled it and it turns out that that’s not uncommon. This makes both of us anxious. Additionally, both my mother and my mother-in-law begin to voice their concerns about me going. They’d always felt that way; they just chose not to make their feelings known. At this point, my wife and I are taking these as signs that I shouldn’t go.

But for whatever reason, we decide that I should go. Maybe it was faith in the prophecy. Maybe it was the fact that I’d make it in time if I left at the first contraction. Maybe it was the fact that I thought in this situation, I could have my cake and eat it too. But you know how that usually turns out.

The day of the retreat arrived. I kissed my wife, my daughter, and Baby #2 goodbye, and left. My brother-in-law planned on coming over later that day and my sister was coming the next day, so I knew my wife was in good hands. But a part of me was fearful.

Yes, the team and my pastor knew that I was on-call and could leave at any moment, but a part of me wondered if this was faith or foolishness – or both.

The first night of the retreat was bittersweet. The opening worship was fantastic – passionate praise and powerful preaching – but I couldn’t really enjoy myself. The entire night, I was worried about my family. Is my wife doing ok (The heat index was close to 100°F and she was VERY pregnant)? Was my daughter behaving or was she giving my wife a hard time? To make matters worse, the service at the University was terrible for my iPhone – it may as well have been an iPad Nano at that point. What if my wife was trying to text/call but I missed it?

After the opening session, which ended around 11:30pm, I finally found a place outdoors where I got decent reception and my wife and I exchanged texts. She said she was doing well and didn’t feel anything. *whew* That was a relief. She told me to enjoy myself and that she would call/text if anything happened.

I went to bed that night after saying a thankful prayer.

Everything changed the next day.