Enemies

This world is a crazy, crazy place. It seems like all sorts of people are angry at each other. There is infighting going on around the world. I have been blessed to have avoided much of it, but it has finally come home to roost. I have a nemesis. He looks like this:

Oh, mercy. We do not get along.  When we first entered this room, at 3:30 on Monday morning, our eyes met and I knew we would not be friends.  I could hear the drumroll, the sound of a gunfight from old western movies, when the hero and villian wander into the street to stare each other down before the big duel.  I glared, examining every inch of that sofa, in hopes of finding comfort, but there was none.  It stared back, it's harsh, unforgiving material unwilling to give.  I knew I had come up against a veteran opponent, but I was determined to break him, to win.

As it turns out, Rachel's water broke prematurely, meaning that she wasn't in labor.  It's a bit ironic to think that it was premature since it broke on her due date, but you'll have to take that one up with God.  Sometimes, it's just the way the cookie crumbles.  All of this is to say that when she first arrived at the hospital, her labor was very, very mild.  So the nurse recommended that we both try to get some sleep, certain that we would need it later on.  (How right she was!)  Rachel settled in to the bed, while I curled on the couch, certain that it wasn't too bad and that I could get some rest.  In the first battle, I engaged triumphant, having found some sleep in such a fierce opponent.  We tussled, but I managed to nap for an hour or so, and was prepared to support and help Rachel through her labor, which was quickly sped up through the use of oxytocin.

After all the excitement of Caleb's birth, we were busy holding and caressing him, while Rachel was recovering.  My nemesis sat, quietly, knowing that our battle would soon continue, knowing that he would have another chance to break me.  Much later that night, while we were both exhausted, I trudged wearily back to face him, hoping that my sheer exhaustion would allow me to conquer my foe.

I was wrong.

He won.  Sure, I got a few hours of disrupted sleep.  I probably slept better than Rachel did, who had to be wakened every few hours to feed Caleb.  But we battled throughout the night, and I wasn't even able to toss and turn, so constricted by my foe's narrow bounds.  How the battle waged on, both of us giving it our best, mine to sleep and him to prevent my slumbers.  Hard corners and unforgiving pillows jabbed my back, and I was unable to counter his blows.  After six hours of struggle, I am saddened to say that he emerged victorious, I unrested, bowed to defeat, broken by the victorious cries of my enemy.  I had thought that I could defeat my harsh opponent, but his reputation for strength was well earned.  I was not strong enough to win.

Yesterday, I continually had to look away in shame from his boastful glances.  He sat in the corner, quietly confidant, while Rachel and I tended to little Caleb, reveling in the splendor of parenthood, of a beautiful baby boy, of blessings from God greater than I ever could have imagined.  What a gift he is!!

Last night, the thought of one more battle was more than I could take.  Knowing that Rachel was in good hands, and that Caleb would be in the nursery, and realizing that at least one of us should be well rested when Caleb comes home, I went home and slept ten hours in my bed. It was glorious.  I was able to forget the defeat I had suffered, and rest easily in my own bed.  It may be the last good night sleep I get in quite some time.

As for updates, doctors came by and checked on Rachel and Caleb this morning.  Everything looks great for both, and we'll be heading home soon!  Thank you for all the love and prayers!

And, because I know that everyone is here for the pictures, here's Caleb: