Today my son Samuel is 28. He calls himself the middle child, being my third son out of five of my own children when he was born, but we had four girls and three boys then, with four more children to come after him. He was wanted, and loved, and his older sisters all doted on him!
We were expecting him to arrive in the middle of December, which I thought would work out great, giving me plenty of time to do Christmas things while recovering. Instead, he waited. A neighbor had a son with a Christmas Day birthday, and they celebrated in July on the half birthday. I really wanted to avoid such confusion, and besides, we already had a lot of summer birthdays! I was really grateful when I went into labor about midnight on the 22nd. Sure enough, Sam made his entrance- he always makes an entrance- about 9 am.
In my days of having hospital births but wanting to explore and try new things, I had read up on various techniques that could be used in a hospital but that would take some of the institutionalism out. My OB/GYN was so patient as I brought my ideas in each month! No, the hospitals here didn't use birthing chairs, but he had had experience with them in the East and didn't think they made much difference. (When I finally had one, for Hannah, it DID make a difference for me!) He was also familiar with the LeBoyer method, and agreed to make arrangements with the hospital for me to have it, barring complications in the birth. Near the end of my pregnancy, the new partner in the office became my primary Dr, and he was ok with it, too.
It's not well known, but LeBoyer was a French physician who believed that a child should be born into a relatively dark, warm and wet environment that would mimic the womb, and so help the child to transition to the new world. No bright lights, a relatively quick immersion into a basin of warm water, which continued for several minutes as the child would adjust. Sam's birth was fairly quick and uneventful; the lights were low, he was slid into the basin and it was fascinating to watch him open his eyes, look around and stretch. Then he was placed- wet- on my chest, covered but not wrapped in a blanket. He had not cried, was not "stimulated" or even handled very much by the Dr. and nurses. Samuel picked up his head, looked me straight in the face with his big, blue marble eyes, and stared at me for several seconds. Then he nursed briefly, was taken away for a more thorough clean up and exam, and so was I. The hospital, though small, let the babies stay with mothers as much as we wanted them, so we had a lot of contact throughout the rest of the day and night.(I could never get another hospital or midwife to agree to this, but it was great for Sam!)
In the morning, in true super-mom mode- it was Christmas Eve, after all- I was dressed and standing in the doorway of my room at 9 am, waiting for the Pediatrician, who knew me well, to approve Sam for release. The previous evening, the obstetrician had said that I could go home Christmas morning if I was feeling well, and I had informed him of my intention to go home the next morning, to which he replied, "we shall see". In his defense, he did not know me very well yet. So as he came down the hall, and saw me standing in the doorway fully dressed, he said, "alright, I guess you are going home". My pediatrician got quite a laugh out of that!
So we came home to a very excited household, and later that evening I wrapped Samuel up and hauled him through Kmart as I finished the Christmas shopping. This had been necessary because we hadn't gotten paid until that very day, and I had a layaway to pick up! Remember, this was in the days of my young motherhood, when I sincerely believed that I was invincible! He was born on a Wednesday, Christmas was Friday, and on Sunday, we attended three hours of Church- 50 minutes of which I taught a Sunday School lesson. In the emotion of the season, people said I looked just like Mary with the Savior, and of course, I was flattered.
At six weeks old, Sam became suddenly ill. I was terrified. The older kids had just gotten over a November/early December case of the chicken pox, and I thought his fever portended his own case. However, there were no spots, and the fever went quite high. I was alone with kids at home, made a couple of phone calls and got us a ride to the hospital. No one from my church was available to give him a blessing, so I did it myself, begging God to forgive my presumptuousness and bless my son. I held him as he had a spinal tap, and sure enough, he had meningitis. Fortunately, we caught it very early. He was transferred to a bigger hospital, but was only in for three days and then sent home. I felt VERY blessed! No complications, and he has not been particularly susceptible to infection since.
The fact is, he was hardly ever ill! Didn't even break a bone until he was a teenager. Samuel loves music and dance, is quite accomplished in both, and has always loved to help out and serve others. He was also known around town for walking, no matter the weather or season! He's still very active today, and I always enjoy hearing what shows he's been to and cultural opportunities he's having. I don't see him nearly often enough, and I value his friendship and efforts to stay connected even through our family "rough patches". He is still wanted and loved, and it has been a great blessing in my life to know him. I am really proud of the man he has become.
HAVE A HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SON!
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