Thoughts on pregnancy

  If you're not careful, it's pretty easy to forget just who is in charge of this whole show.

  Rachel went to the doctor yesterday morning for a routine visit, and she was measuring small, so they scheduled an ultrasound in the afternoon to make sure fluid levels were fine.  (They were.  Everything is good.  There is 4lb 8 oz of healthy & active baby in there.)

  With every doctor appointment, there is always the chance that they could tell you that you're headed over to the hospital next to have a baby.  Had the fluid levels been extremely low, they could have sent us to deliver yesterday or today.  I doubt they would have done that, but they might have.

  Which means that all our plans for the next few weeks would have been out the window.

  When we make plans, we often forget this fact.  We have to, in a way, or else we'd be paralyzed by the reality that we have no idea what today or tomorrow holds.  We'd be afraid of ever scheduling anything.

  But it's probably healthy to hold onto the reality that God is completely in control.  We go forward in faith, trusting him, aware that we live and move and have our being in his hand.  Today is a gift for which we ought to be grateful, and we would be wise to let our gratitude show, to remind ourselves that life belongs to God, and he has given it to us for a purpose, and we should live life like the gift that it is.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmm....

  Looks like things are going to get a bit more interesting at the Jones household on or about September 10!

  Here's the thing that amazes us--when we had the ultrasound done a few weeks back, Rachel was 6.5 weeks pregnant.  Now, they start counting from the end of the last menstrual cycle, meaning that the egg and sperm hadn't started their construction project more than 4.5 weeks before the scan.  In that time, God managed to put together something the size of a grain of rice, and that little grain of rice has a heart that beats 126 times every minute.

  I cannot contemplate that without getting lost in wonder and awe.  How tiny and intricate that all must be.  How wondrous it all is.  It simply amazes me.

  There are all sorts of things to ponder--such as introducing Caleb to the idea that he will not longer have complete control over his parents and everyone else in his world, houses and minivans, etc., but right now, we're good with just wonder.  The rest will come in time.

Babies!!

The pictures just keep coming!!

And, just for good measure, a phone conversation:

Them:  Room service, can I help you?
Me:  Yes, I'd like to order two chicken wraps.
Them:  Is one for the patient and one for a guest?
Me:  Yes.
Them:  Which one is for the guest?
Me:  <awkward silence.>  Um.......

New life, part II

  The doctor stopped by this morning and said he looks wonderful!  He didn't see any problems--he did comment that he has big feet that he'll need to grow into.  He's been sleeping a lot--we're trying to enjoy the peace and quiet.

  All is wonderful!!!

New Life

  Caleb Ralston Jones was born at 4:38 Monday afternoon.

  To prove that he is Rachel's child, he decided that he would arrive right on schedule, on the due date. Her water broke at 2:00 Monday morning, and as soon as I woke up I knew what was going on! It was a looong, exhausting day, and Rachel did great, despite being exhausted and in pain. Caleb didn't make it easy on her, and his entry into the world ended up being far more dramatic than I thought it would be, but he's here and he's beautiful.

  He's 20.25 inches long and weighs 6.14 pounds (had he been any bigger, the doctor doesn't think he would have been able to make it out, simply due to the way God made Rachel's body.)  Everybody is healthy, though Rachel is a bit worse for wear, and I've got to work out some kinks, due to the fact that the hospital decided that having a 5 foot couch was a great idea to provide fathers a place to sleep.  (ouch)

  He's got big, interested eyes--as one nurse said to him, "Everything's a big deal on the first day of life."

  I've never seen such a miracle.  Surely, Caleb is made in the image of God, and what has happened in this place, and in Rachel's womb over the last 9 months, is nothing short of a miracle to be celebrated.  Surely, God must delight in the birth of each newborn, knowing and trusting that each is a wonder of its own.  Little hands reach for the world, and little feet kick with delight.  He makes the saddest little cries, but he's lovely.  I surely appreciate God allowing us to borrow him and raise him, that he may be glory to God in his life.

  We are so grateful for all the love and prayers that have gotten us this far, and we will continue to lean on them in the days, months and years to come.  Caleb has a large family of people to look out for him, and we are so grateful for the community that surrounds us and lifts us up.

New Pictures

Here's the latest pictures of Jeeves:

For those of you who have been waiting for nine months to see Jeeves' nose, wait no more:

Well, that was exciting...

 So there I was...

  Rachel called me and told me the doctor had decided to have another ultrasound done.  The doctor was concerned because Rachel's stomach was measuring smaller than usual (a strange thought considering that Rachel's stomach would not best be described by the word 'small').  The concern is that if Rachel becomes low on amniotic fluid, Poseidon doesn't have much room to move around and has trouble doing little things like breathing.  If the amniotic fluid is very low, this might be reason for an induction.

  Anyway, I'm at the church when Rachel calls, so I decide to head to the doctor's office for the ultrasound, and Rachel doesn't usually mind having me around.  (In my defense, I've made it to most of the other doctor's appointments.  This one was rescheduled in the middle of a busy morning, so I decided not to go.  Figures.)  I was halfway out the door when it hit me--
 
  I might have a baby by this evening.

  Now, for the last month or two, I thought I was ready for this.  I've taken enough classes that I'm pretty sure I could teach a course on how to have a baby.  I've been praying about it since I found out Rachel was pregnant.  I've been focused on the baby and have been so excited, that I figured when the time came I would be nothing but excited and ready to meet little Poseidon.

  And I'm sitting the car, on the way to see Rachel for what could, for all we know, be the moment where they tell us to cross the street to the hospital to be induced, and I realize I am not prepared for this.  All I was thinking was, another week might be nice.  I didn't have much planned for the rest of the day, but it hit me how fully this will change my life, and how uncertain I am about what life will look like, post-baby.  It occurred to me that I am unprepared, raw and unready, for what is about to come.  All of my excitement cannot conquer the fact that my life is about to change monumentally and I'm not ready for that to occur.  Poseidon, on the other hand, isn't too worried about how ready I am--he says I better be ready, because he'll be coming soon.

  Anyway--because most of you are more concerned about the baby than my mental state, I can gladly say that there is plenty of amniotic fluid.  Poseidon has plenty of room to move and breathe and do whatever it is babies do in the womb, and he's still there, safe and sound, waiting patiently to spring himself upon us when we're least expecting it.  Everything looks great, and we're back to watching and waiting!

  I'll try and remember and post the ultrasound pictures in the morning.  He looks fabulous!

39 Weeks

  Rachel's officially pretty pregnant.  She's at 39 weeks right now, which is French for 'the baby could come on any day'.  We were out walking at the new park by the Volkswagen plant and we ran into a lady I know from the YMCA.  She came up to me today at the Y and told me that Rachel was the best looking full term pregnant lady she had ever seen.  (For the record, I agree with her)  Other than the baby-sized basketball under her shirt, she doesn't look that pregnant.  (I know that's kind of like saying that other than Congress and the President that the leadership in Washington is functioning well, but you know what I mean.)  Rachel's still feeling great, although she says it was a bit strange to not be at work today.  (Her last day at TVA was Friday)

  We have no idea when little Hercules will show up.  Could be today...  but I think we've still got a little while.  I don't know why, I just feel that way.  I've been wrong before, though, and everyone knows that I know nothing about having babies.

  I did go to Daddy Boot Camp on Saturday.  I was the only person in class, which meant that we got out an hour early.  I now know everything possible to know about babies.  There is still plenty I don't know, but if I haven't picked it up in the four hundred hours of classes I've been to by now, the Lord doesn't intend for me to know it.  We talked about crying and labor and sleeping and intimacy and pets and in-laws and poison (not the band) and a bunch of other stuff... and I can say that I feel as qualified to have a baby as any man could be, except for the fact that I've never changed a diaper or held a baby for longer than two minutes.  But I will say, in my defense, that I've raised two cats from kittens to three year olds, so that should count for something, right?

  Right?

Visit to the Doctor

  Believe it or not, Rachel and I made it in and out of the doctor's office in under an hour today!  Combined with a session meeting yesterday lasting 55 minutes, I feel like I'm on a roll!

  While there, the doctor said Olivander isn't that close to arriving, as far as she can tell.  He's still at minus 3, which means he has quite a bit farther to descend before making his grand entrance into the world.  It's so strange to think it could be another 3 or 4 weeks before Olivander shows up, especially since Rachel and I are so geared up for this to happen any moment.

  We know that the womb is the best place to be right now, but holding him in my arms right now seems like a close second.  I know that it will be soon, and I am trying to treasure the serenity of the house, but knowing that in a few weeks we'll welcome my son into the world is just too exciting.  We like to think he's excited, too, since he's kicking the daylights out of Rachel's ribs, but perhaps he's merely expressing his disappointment as the Reds' season comes to a close.  I'm disappointed, too, but trying to avoid kicking anything.

38 weeks

  Want to know what's crazy?  (Other than the fact that Bronson Arroyo is making $11,500,000 to throw a small white baseball with relatively little success.  That's right--he's 8-12 with an ERA over 5.  Oh, and he gets a raise next year.  He'll get paid $12,500,000 next season, regardless of performance.  That's right--while most people would get fired for under-performing by such drastic measures, Bronson gets a raise.  Meanwhile, in the real world...)

  Rachel and I could have a baby at any moment.

  Could be today.  Could be tomorrow.  Could be in three weeks.  We have no idea.  But it's completely realistic (Unlike the economics of baseball) that the baby could show up at any time.  There isn't much we can do to predict it, and we're as prepared as we can be for it (we finally bought the glider, thus ending Rachel's anxiety that the baby might come before we purchased the glider.  We also ended Mastercard's anxiety that we might have a small bill!), but it's just so surreal that it would be completely natural for Zeus to arrive today.  A little more certainty would be nice, but we simply won't get it--we have to be prepared for the next three weeks to drop everything for Zeus' arrival.

  We've spent so much time thinking about what the baby will be like, it's hard to imagine that all of those dreams will finally come true, and we'll suddenly have a 7 pound toxic waste producer of our own.  I'll be a dad, whether I'm ready for it or not, and our entire life will be focused on the every burp, coo and cry that Zeus produces.  Everything will change, only we have no idea when.

  Sometime.

  Maybe today.

  Maybe Monday.

  I have no idea.

  How strange it is!

Sizes

  Would you believe that there aren't any more size updates?  For months we've gone from fruit to fruit, or from strange object to strange object, but here, at 37 weeks, we've reached the end!  That means little Marko Ramius (just go watch The Hunt for Red October.  Everything will be better then.) is about as big as he is going to be this side of the womb!  (cue Rachel exhaling a sigh of relief...)

  According to this website, little Marko is about the size of the electric motor in the 2008 Tesla Roadster.  It does 0-60 in under 4.0 seconds, but would probably be a lot harder to deliver than a baby.  I'd imagine, anyway.  What do I know about labor?  Or electric motors on cars that cost more than $100k?


  In something that's a little easier to imagine, he's about the size of a watermelon.  He's probably about 20 inches long, and is considered full term, meaning that he's about as ready for life as he's ever going to be.  (are any of us truly ready?  I'm barely ready for today, and I've had almost 30 years of practice!)

  Apparently, during birth the baby will produce more stress hormones than at any other time in his life.  Clearly, they've never measured the stress hormones on a minister in the midst of the call process.  Or on someone about to take their ordination exams on a laptop that keeps crashing to make up for the fact that they've had mono for the last two months.  Not that any of that would be stressful...

  It's easy to forget about how stressful this will be for little Marko.  He's been isolated in a fluid environment for nine months, with the sound of Rachel's heartbeat to keep him company.  Every jostle is softened by the water surrounding him.  He has been prayed for by a great cloud of witnesses, and we have done everything possible to make this period of his life as comfortable as possible.  In this brief window, we have control over his safety and security.

  In a few weeks, he'll come rushing into a bright, loud world, and his world will be completely transformed.  Everything will be new, and despite our efforts to console him, he'll have to deal with monumental changes to every aspect of life.  Only the prayers and our love will continue.  (And perhaps my desires for absurdly fast sports cars)  We can no longer protect and shield him from every threat.  All we can do is love him for who he is and offer our hearts to support him on his journey, in all things pointing him to the greatest love the world has ever known in Christ.

  Perhaps it's also a reminder for us--the single most stressful moment of our lives happened on the day of our births.  Everything else pales in comparison to that miraculous event.  It is a miracle that we are alive, that we have survived the journey from womb to the world, and may we live in endless gratitude for each moment, allowing some of the stress to dissipate as we keep things in perspective, grateful for the chance to experience one more day on this planet, to drink in the beauty and splendor of life, and give thanks to our Creator for the blessing of our sustained existence.

It was only a matter of time...

As we get close, it's time to celebrate one of the best routines ever:

Head and shoulders, knees and toes (knees and toes!)

If you look closely, you can clearly make out Eugene's traffic stopping good looks:

And here are the toes, which Rachel's ribs refer to as 'weapons of mass destruction': (you may remember these from this earlier post)

  Eugene weigh's about 6.5 pounds, which puts him right about on schedule.  They said he's in the 49th percentile for size, so he's just about average.  He's getting mediocrity out of the way early to prepare for his career as the most amazing person ever.  (Which will hopefully make him fabulously wealthy so he can support his parents, too.)  There's no evidence that says he will be arriving any time soon--they can't say that for certain, but they say that things look good for an arrival date around the end of September/beginning of October.  Until then, Rachel is practicing her breathing and thinking positive thoughts, while I'm sleeping as much as possible!

Honeydew

  For the next week and a half, Octavious is the size of a honeydew melon.  If Rachel were to stand in front of the car at night, the headlights would cause his tiny little eyes to dilate.  If she were to sing to him, he can recognize and react to simple songs.  (Hence the reason I don't sing often around her--we don't want him to be born early in an attempt to flee the womb, thinking he can escape my voice!)

  It's all so amazing to consider--he's truly a little person in there, and as the time goes on he grows nearer to the form and qualities he will have when he is no longer in the womb.  All the parts are there and continue to develop, and Rachel and I stand in awe as we await the delivery of God's gift into our lives.

  We get an ultrasound next Tuesday, and I am so excited about that--we'll be able to see what God has been doing inside her, and we'll marvel at the little man we are about to meet, and wonder how God does such amazing things.

Original Sin

  So there I was...

  Thinking about Melchior, as I often do.  I think about his little hands and feet, about the way he'll scream and cry in the beginning, and we won't understand a thing he says, yet we'll love his little heart out anyway.  We'll coo and shush and tend to his every need and want, even when we don't know what they are.  We'll love him before he can speak, and even when he decides to voice his opinions at 3 am, we'll love him then, too.

  But then I realized--because of this whole idea of original sin, we believe that he is fallen and broken, a sinner just like the rest of us.

  It's a little hard to think of Melchior as a sinner.  All he'll do for the first year is wave his little arms and feet, cry and poop.  None of those are inherently sinful, right?

  But we believe that all of creation is infected with sin.  It's inescapable.

  I'm sure our little angel will do something wrong in his life.  At some point he'll break something and pretend it wasn't him.  He'll pull the cat's tail or act like he didn't hear one of his parents admonishing him.  He'll stay out too late and lie about having done his homework.

  But it's hard to believe that he's sinful, innocent babe that he will be.

  Of course, it's hard to believe that Christ died with me on his mind, too.  It's hard to believe that I am worthy of such impressive grace.  And surely, if I am worthy of such amazing grace and love, Melchior is, too.  For there is more than enough grace, more than enough love, to cover our sins.  And he, too, is redeemed by the blood of the lamb, a child of the covenant, a child of God.  So I shall not be depressed thinking about his fallenness--rather I shall celebrate that he belongs to God.

34.5 weeks!!!!!

  Do you know what's awesome?

  Other than a 6-4-3 double play, cold beer on hot days and finding out that Shooter is on late night tv?

  Getting ready to have a baby.

  Rachel and I have been practicing her breathing.

  She's been hard at work in the nursery.

  And I'm like a little kid at Christmas who knows he's about to get everything he asked for and can barely wait for the hours to tick by and Christmas morning to arrive.

  Genghis will be here before we know it, and I'm almost certain that there will be times when I'm half asleep at 3 AM staring at the crying baby thinking about how peaceful it was when he was in the womb, but it's just all so very exciting.

  I did want to pass along some pictures of the nursery.  Much gratitude goes to Beth, Rachel's sister, for her work on the border and the rainbow.  It looks great and brings a lot of color to the room.  We've been overwhelmed by the generosity of others in the baby showers, and feel completely humbled.  I sometimes catch myself staring at some of the things and imagining little Genghis playing with them...

  What marvelous adventures await us!

Interesting Thought

  Rachel and I had a doctor's appointment the other day--everything looks great, they say, and Nebuchadnezzar's head is pointed down.  I don't know if that's temporary or if he's preparing for the big launch, but it's a good sign, I suppose.  (They could tell me just about anything and I'd believe them.  Like I know anything about pregnancy!)

  A fascinating thought was just passed along to me--that Nebuchadnezzar is just as excited to meet us as we are to meet him...  I don't know why it never occurred to me that he might be thrilled to meet me (perhaps because I'm too busy focusing on the fact that he might express that excitement by peeing on me or crying all night), but I'm so wrapped up in my excitement to meet him that I never thought about the fact that there will be moments where he encircles his arms as far around me as he can and says, "I love you, dad."

Found in Chattanooga

  So we had an incredible baby shower at the church on Sunday.  I was humbled by the experience.  Exhausted, as well--I had no idea baby showers were so exhausting!  Rachel and I had so much fun--it was neat to gather with friends and family and simply enjoy an afternoon, to prepare for the baby and look forward to the day when little Achilles joins our world!

  It's also humbling to be in the presence of so much parenting experience--I was in a room with a lot of people who have raised a lot of children, and it is my hope that I can be humble enough to listen to their wisdom and wise enough to know how best to raise our own child.  In some ways it will be completely unique, but there is plenty I can learn from others.

  I know there were countless hours poured into the preparation of the baby shower--I am beyond grateful to those who poured their time and their hearts into the shower.  It's been such a blessing to be a part of this church family--to see the way that love is poured out on one another, and to also be the recipient of that love.  Rachel and I have been welcomed with open arms, and we look forward to Achilles being a part of the church family, being loved and guided by so many loving friends.

  We lean on one another for strength and support, and it was fun on Saturday to see so many people gathered to lend their support now, for I know that we will be able to count on their presence in the days, weeks, months and years to come.  We don't go through any of this alone--we would collapse under the weight if such a burden was to be undertaken.

  We are also amazed to see how the nursery has taken shape!  It is filled with toys for small hands and little arms, as well as clothes for a tiny body to squeeze into!  I can stare at those socks for the longest time and wonder about the little feet that will occupy them in a short time.  What a miracle of creation a baby is!  We have many, many books, which will keep us from setting up Achilles with his own Amazon.com account for a few months.  I hope he is soon as addicted to books as I am!

  In fact, perhaps the only thing we haven't received at a baby shower is the following, seen at a local store here in town:

34 weeks

My wife, barefoot and pregnant (34 weeks!!) in the kitchen.

(I should note that this picture was her idea, not mine. And yes, we have a lot of peach jam now.)

Ahhh....life

  Life moves in phases.



 There was a time in my life, not too long ago, when I watched that commercial and seriously considered how I would look driving a Mustang.  (Who am I kidding?  I didn't care what I looked like.  I just wanted to drive it.)  I spent large amounts of time wondering about Ford Mustangs and really expensive bicycles and other toys I probably (definitely) didn't need.

  Now, life has changed a little.  That Mustang doesn't have four doors, and getting a carseat in and out of the back seems treacherous.  Those triathlon bikes probably don't work so well with trailers behind them.  Instead of wondering about horsepower, I'm purchasing items that promise to be 'odor free' and offers 'economic refills'.  Once, I was focused on stocking the house with items for a game room downstairs.  Now, my house has an item expressly designed to care for the toxic waste produced by a person who won't use a litter box.

  How quickly life changes...

  (And why is it a good thing that my diaper disposal system doesn't need batteries?  What would the batteries do--run the ejection system that pitches dirty diapers out the window into the neighbors yard?  Call the sewage system and have them send some guys out to clean this thing up?  Or does it just mean I can't put batteries in there because the stench would erode them and make battery acid leak all over the place?  Or am I not allowed to buy battery powered diapers?  What would those do--clean themselves?  Make my child crawl faster?  Light up when it needs to be changed?  Have a flashlight to help the kid find the litter box in the dark?  So many questions...)