Life Happening - Val's Story, chapter 4, part 2

Life happened, as it always does. They say that if three or more stressful events occur within a year – such as a death in the family or serious illness – it wears a person down and can cause all kinds of problems. 1993 would be the first of many of those years for me.

          My marriage to the kids’ dad had been shaky for a while, and it finally fell apart completely. Naturally, it would be easy for me to blame him, but I know in my head that it takes two people working on it to keep any relationship going. My relationship was mostly with my babies, and his was with his friends. He moved out in March of 1993, and our divorce was final on November 11. I insisted on keeping the house because it was our children’s home. He cooperated in everything.

          Don’t I wish that was all that happened that year.

          My dad had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s a few years before, and it was progressing quickly. By April of 1993, Mom was worn to a frazzle taking care of him. My siblings and I finally convinced her to admit him to the nursing home.

          She took Dad in on a Friday morning, and the next day, he choked on some food – it’s common for people with advanced dementia to forget how to swallow. This choking incident resulted in aspiration pneumonia, forcing them to admit him to the hospital on Sunday.

          Unless Mom agreed to put in a feeding tube, the doctors told her he would continue to choke on his food. We all agreed that a feeding tube would only prolong a life he was no longer living.

          He passed away on Thursday with me and Mom, his wife of 48 years, by his side.

          But that still wasn’t all for that year.

          One September Saturday morning, my sister Pat woke up with severe abdominal pain. Her husband took her to the ER, and the next morning, Dr. Skye and the surgeon on call performed an emergency hysterectomy.

          Initially, they thought the large growth in her uterus was an unruly fibroid. When the pathology came back a few weeks later, the report showed she had leiomyosarcoma, a rare and very deadly cancer.

          A group of specialists discussed her case and decided to keep close tabs on her. They hoped that all of the cancer cells had been removed during surgery.

          She wasn’t only my sister; she was my best friend. My kids were just as close to her, worshipping the ground she walked on. I can still hear their little voices announcing, “Aunt Patti’s here,” whenever she drove into our yard.

          It had been a bad year, but better years would follow. And so would bad ones.

Aunt Patti, Val and Nick, April 18, 1993, four days after Val turned 3 and 11 days before my dad died. 

What will you do now?

     What do you think? Is it time that I move on and write on Sundays about something other than the message of Easter? I thought I would close out this year’s Lenten series with some of the last things that Jesus did and said before He ascended into heaven, according to each of the Gospel writers.

Still later he appeared to the eleven disciples as they were eating together. He rebuked them for their stubborn unbelief because they refused to believe those who had seen him after he had been raised from the dead.

And then he told them, “Go into all the world and preach the Good News to everyone. Anyone who believes and is baptized will be saved. But anyone who refuses to believe will be condemned.” (Mark 16:14-16, NLT)

     It seems that right up to the very end, Jesus had to keep reminding them who He was, but Jesus also had faith in them, that they would carry His message out into the world.

Then the eleven disciples left for Galilee, going to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go. When they saw him, they worshiped him—but some of them doubted!

Jesus came and told his disciples, “I have been given all authority in heaven and on earth. Therefore, go and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Teach these new disciples to obey all the commands I have given you. And be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:16-20, New Living Translation)

     Even though there were those among them who continued to have doubts, Jesus expected them to spread the words of the Gospel, to carry out the Great Commission.

It was also written that this message would be proclaimed in the authority of his name to all the nations, beginning in Jerusalem: ‘There is forgiveness of sins for all who repent.’ You are witnesses of all these things.

“And now I will send the Holy Spirit, just as my Father promised. But stay here in the city until the Holy Spirit comes and fills you with power from heaven.”

Then Jesus led them to Bethany, and lifting his hands to heaven, he blessed them.  While he was blessing them, he left them and was taken up to heaven. (Luke 24:47-51, NLT)

     Then suddenly, Jesus was gone again, this time taken to heaven where He will reign for all eternity. And where He will be waiting for us.  

There are so many other things Jesus did. If they were all written down, each of them, one by one, I can’t imagine a world big enough to hold such a library of books. (John 21:25, The Message)

     The stories of Jesus will be told until the end of time. And it’s up to each of us to carry out the Great Commission and keep sharing those stories. Will you?   

 

Life Happening - Val's Story, chapter 4, part 1

Val was born on a sunny, warm Saturday afternoon in April. The next day, Easter, as I lay in the hospital bed, nursing her, snow was falling outside. There were still a few inches on the ground when we took her home on Monday, but it warmed up quickly and melted before we knew it.

          We were living in a mobile home in a trailer court in town when Val was born. Her father and I had talked about buying a house and started looking in earnest. Our first outing with Val was a visit to see my sister Pat, and on the way there, we stopped to look at a house. I waited in the car while he met with the owner and went inside.

          He came out and said it was only two bedrooms, but had a bath and a half and a large living room. The two-car garage was attached, and it sat on just over four acres. I had already fallen in love with the large, grass-covered yard and the trees surrounding it. No neighbors nearby. It seemed perfect except for only having two bedrooms. We had two kids – a boy and a girl – so we would need a third bedroom at some point.

          We hired a real estate agent and looked at a few other houses in the area. But we kept coming back to that first house and finally put in an offer on it. We moved in at the end of September.

          It was the sixth place we’d lived in since getting married five years before. As a baby, Nick had made all those moves with us, but I don’t think he remembered any of them except for the trailer house.

          This house, a few miles south of town on a piece of land that would become paradise to me over the years, would be the only home Val had when she was growing up.

Not a good picture, but this is from the sale's flyer on our house. So, the first picture I have of it. 

The End of Nine Months - Val's Story, chap 3 continued

Saturday morning, April 14, 1990, the day before Easter and one week before my due date, I called my mom around ten to check in. My husband and I were talking about doing some shopping and wondered if Mom wanted to watch Nick.  

          She agreed and said we could drop him off at my aunt’s, who lived next door to us, and that she would pick him up in a little while. We were still on the phone, saying our good-byes, when I got up from the kitchen chair where I had been sitting to put the phone receiver back on its hook. 

          There was a gush, and within seconds I was standing in a puddle of water.

          “Um, Mom, you still there?”

          “Yes. Is something wrong?”

          “No, not really. But I don’t think we’re going shopping, I think we’re going to the hospital instead. My water just broke.”

          “Well, take Nick to Helen’s house, and I’ll be there to get him as soon as I can. Get going.”

          I called the hospital and told them I was on my way. When we got there 45 minutes later, they tucked me into bed and hooked me up to the monitors. A nurse reached under the blankets to check me.

          “You’re only dilated to three, so settle in. This could take a while.”

          Once again, I thought to myself, “There ain’t no stinkin’ way. They won’t let me eat until this baby is out, and I’m hungry already.”

          Dr. Skye came along a half hour or so later and told me the same thing that the nurse had, adding, “If you haven’t had this baby by tomorrow morning, we’ll start you on Pitocin.”

          An even more emphatic “no stinkin’ way” rang through my head.

          My husband had been sitting in the chair next to my bed, totally unconcerned, watching MTV. When he heard it was going to be a while, he finally perked up. “Then I’m going to run to Burger King for something to eat.”

          “Sure, go ahead,” I told him. Someone might as well eat!

          Shortly after he left, the music video for “Let It Rain Down” by Phil Collins came on the TV hanging from the wall. Of all the videos that were on that morning, I don’t know why I remembered that one. But just like married couples have a song, this would forever be the song for my baby and me.  

          Two hours later, my husband had returned and was finishing his Whopper, when I had the urge to push. I rang for the nurse, who arrived within a few minutes.

          She looked very skeptical when I told her I thought it was time, but she checked me and confirmed my story. “I’ll page Dr. Skye,” she said, hurrying from the room.

          I don’t know why I remember so many details of this birth. Can other mothers recall everything?

          When I was in labor with Nick, all I remember is that we had lasagna for supper the night before and that I pooped all over the doctor when I was pushing (that is very common, and the doctor and nurses are used to it, in case any young women read this and freak out). I also remember driving to the hospital in the middle of the night. We were living in Colorado at the time, and there was one point on I-25 heading into Denver, where it is so dark along the highway, and then you turn a wide curve, and all the lights of the city are suddenly there.

          Now, though, as I lay in that bed with music videos staring at me, Dr. Skye walked in the room and announced, “I was at the store reaching into the cooler for a gallon of milk when my pager went off.”

          Why? Why did she tell me that? And why can I still hear her words in my head to this day?

          Anyway, it was less than an hour later that she was cradling that pink, wrinkly eight-pound, five-ounce baby girl in her arms. She brought the bundle to my side and lay her in my arms.

          She said to my daughter, “You have parents who love you so much.”

          At the time, I didn’t think of her father; I only thought, “Yes, I will love you with all my heart. Forever.”

Nine Months - Val's Story, Chapter 3a

Most of the nine months of my second pregancny were uneventful, other than having unrelenting indigestion no matter what I did or didn't consume. I was incubating this little bundle like a bun in the oven, or maybe like a little Easter ham. My due date was April 21, a week after Easter.

          At twenty weeks, I had the usual ultrasound they did around then to make sure Baby was growing all the right parts in the right places. At that time, ultrasounds weren't as detailed as they are now, but the technician could usually pick out if a boy or a girl was cooking in there.

          When asked if I wanted to know, I emphatically answered, "NO!"

          I hadn't had a clue when I was pregnant with my firstborn, and I didn't want to know now. Very few mothers-to-be feel the way I do, but I wanted to be surprised when the bundle popped out. I felt that if I knew ahead of time, there would be no thrill of discovery at the delivery.    

          One of the three obstetricians working in our clinic at the time, Dr. Skye, was going to give a presentation to colleagues from around the state and needed a willing pregnant woman to offer her unborn child a chance at stardom. Of course, I offered.

          So, a few weeks later, another ultrasound was performed on my growing belly; this time, it was being recorded. I still have a copy of it on an old VHS tape somewhere. 

          Summer had turned to fall – a season that is always too short where we live. Winter brought the usual cold and snow. At some point during that time, I was able to transfer to the clinic in town, saving me the half-hour trip every day. The local clinic was also much more laid-back and less stressful – just what the doctor ordered. And my OB doctor even rotated to that clinic, so I didn't have to take time off for my routine pregnancy checks.

          "Hmmm?" Dr. Skye was checking me one day when I was about 4 weeks away from my delivery date. She pushed on my bulging belly again. "Well, Chris, I hate to tell you, but this baby seems to be positioned butt-down. At this point in the pregnancy, Baby should already be turned with their head down."

          I had worked in labor and delivery at another hospital several years earlier, so I knew what that meant.

          "You should maybe get yourself psyched up for the possibility of a Cesarean."

          I nodded in understanding, but thought to myself, "There ain't no stinkin' way I'm having a C-section. This baby is going to turn."

          The next week, when she checked me, Baby's head was down, pointing at the birth canal. One of the few things this child of mine ever made easy on me.

Nick and the dog we had for a while when we were living in the mobile home. Maybe doesn't have much to do with this story, but it's where we were living when I was pregnant with Val. There were a few pictures I had in my head that would fit better (including one of that ultrasound), but I couldn't find any of them. 

He is Still Risen

Only last week, I took down the last of my Christmas decorations. Okay, it was really a snowman welcome sign, but still, it reminded me of Christmas. But it does make me a little crazy when people take down their tree and other decorations by New Year's.

          I feel the same way about Easter. Just last Sunday, we celebrated the rising of our Savior from the grave, our salvation for all time secured because He died and rose again on the third day. But everyone has moved on to other things – spring, yard work, summer vacation plans.

          I think that any day which is not spent celebrating Jesus' birth should be spent celebrating His rebirth. So, here are the Bible verses about how Jesus appeared to some of His followers later that first Easter day on the road to Emmaus.

That same day two of Jesus’ followers were walking to the village of Emmaus, seven miles from Jerusalem. As they walked along they were talking about everything that had happened. As they talked and discussed these things, Jesus himself suddenly came and began walking with them. But God kept them from recognizing him.

He asked them, “What are you discussing so intently as you walk along?”

They stopped short, sadness written across their faces. Then one of them, Cleopas, replied, “You must be the only person in Jerusalem who hasn’t heard about all the things that have happened there the last few days.”

“What things?” Jesus asked.

“The things that happened to Jesus, the man from Nazareth,” they said. “He was a prophet who did powerful miracles, and he was a mighty teacher in the eyes of God and all the people. But our leading priests and other religious leaders handed him over to be condemned to death, and they crucified him. We had hoped he was the Messiah who had come to rescue Israel. This all happened three days ago.

“Then some women from our group of his followers were at his tomb early this morning, and they came back with an amazing report. They said his body was missing, and they had seen angels who told them Jesus is alive! Some of our men ran out to see, and sure enough, his body was gone, just as the women had said.”

Then Jesus said to them, “You foolish people! You find it so hard to believe all that the prophets wrote in the Scriptures. Wasn’t it clearly predicted that the Messiah would have to suffer all these things before entering his glory?” Then Jesus took them through the writings of Moses and all the prophets, explaining from all the Scriptures the things concerning himself.

By this time they were nearing Emmaus and the end of their journey. Jesus acted as if he were going on, but they begged him, “Stay the night with us, since it is getting late.” So he went home with them. As they sat down to eat, he took the bread and blessed it. Then he broke it and gave it to them. Suddenly, their eyes were opened, and they recognized him. And at that moment he disappeared!

They said to each other, “Didn’t our hearts burn within us as he talked with us on the road and explained the Scriptures to us?” And within the hour they were on their way back to Jerusalem. There they found the eleven disciples and the others who had gathered with them, who said, “The Lord has really risen! He appeared to Peter.” (Luke 24:13-34, New Living Translation)

Almost a Miracle - Val's Story, Chapter 2

When our son, Nick, turned three in January of 1989, I talked to his father about having another baby. I didn’t want Nick to be raised alone; I wanted him to have a younger brother or sister, so he’d always have someone to play with and fight with.

          I went off the pill in April or May, so we could work on Baby #2.

          At the end of July, we went camping but got rained out. We scrapped the tent and found a small cabin for rent a few miles away. It only had one bed, so I tucked Nick into bed on the couch before my husband and I went into the bedroom.

          A week or two later, my husband’s back went out – I can’t remember how, but his back had bothered him before. Usually, a few visits to the chiropractor healed him. Not this time.

          On a Saturday night, I took him to the ER because the pain had gotten so bad that he couldn’t urinate. After some tests, they called in a back specialist, who determined that he had a ruptured disc, which was pushing on the nerves that controlled the part of his body that allowed him to go pee and get an erection.

          Or that’s the way I remember it. Since then, I have worked in the medical field for close to thirty years, including time with a urologist, and I have never heard of that happening to anyone else. But anyway.

          The specialist claimed my husband needed an emergency surgery on that disc, or he might need a catheter and be impotent for the rest of his life. So into surgery he went on Sunday afternoon.

          During that time, I thought I might already be pregnant. I was having heartburn, but I also hadn’t missed a period yet. Too soon to tell. But I thought, if this surgery didn’t work and my husband couldn’t have sex again, it would be like this baby was a miracle. Their conception timed just right.

          Of course, I never thought of the horrible consequences such a failed surgery would bring on my husband and our relationship. I must have already had baby brain.

          As it turned out, the surgery was a success, and he had an uneventful and full recovery. A few weeks later, one of the lab techs at the clinic where I worked privately showed me the slip of paper with the word “positive” circled in red.