Today is my youngest son’s birthday. Mitchell turns 14 on this 8th day of July. I remember the story of his birth very clearly. The birth of each of our children represents something significant. In Mitchell’s case, he is the miracle child. Jan experienced a miscarriage in January of 1995. After all of these years, the pain of that loss is still real. Naturally we were cautiously optimistic when we found out she was expecting again later that same year. But serious pregnancy complications developed. Issues arose that could be life threatening to both her and our unborn child.

A caesarean section was scheduled for bright and early in the morning on July 8th, 1996. This was our first experience with a c-section. I went into it pretty confident that I would not have to accost a nurse in the hallway and tell her that Jan was going to get an epidural within the next 5 milliseconds. Such an event happened in the early morning hours of July 15th 1989. I did not care about centimeters of dilation at that point anymore than the prize of eggs in China. My wife was in pain, and if she did not get relief someone else was going to be in pain. (First time dads are totally irrational you know.)

A team of three wonderful doctors coordinated events in the surgical suite that morning. I am grateful for each of them to this day. They even let this third time dad join them during the process. One thing stood out to me that morning…It was quick. I mean really quick. There was no labor. There was not a move into a delivery room. It was not a long and drawn out process. Mitchell came into this world fast.

Jan was soon wheeled back to her room and the nurses started caring for their post operative patient in the best way you can imagine. They were wonderful.  And then things soon went downhill… Later that morning I told Jan: “Wow…this whole c-section thing was so easy! We should have done it all three times!” Now those of you who know my little 5’2” petite bride are aware of her quiet and gentle personality. It is a good thing no one else was in the room when I made that comment. And it was also a good thing for me that she was in a weakened state. If she had been physically able, she would have jumped out of that hospital bed, knocked me out cold, and then climbed back in that same bed feeling no remorse whatsoever. Instead I just got “the look.” If I remember correctly, I quickly excused myself and slipped down the hallway mumbling something about finding a coke machine.

At the end of that same week, I was able to take my recuperating wife and third son home. By that point, I had chosen to keep my post delivery comments to myself. That of course was good for everyone involved. We had to get home to celebrate Randall’s 7th birthday that year on July 15th. After several anxious months, our miracle child was ready to join his family. I felt fortunate in more ways than one…

On March 13th, 1978, I left St. Mary’s Hospital in Lubbock very early that morning following the sudden and unexpected death of my father. I was 15 years old. And then on July 11th, 1996, I left the same hospital with my wife and newborn son. It was a strange feeling. As I walked through the East entrance of the hospital, I could feel my grieving heart experiencing a level of healing. And I expressed a word of thanks, as I held my miracle child a little closer. I wish I was in Lubbock today. I would actually like to stand on that doorway one more time to fully express my appreciation. But instead I will celebrate with a 14 year old and prepare to celebrate again one week from today with a 21 year old! I wonder if I should remind Jan today about my c-section commentary 14 years ago today…No…I don’t think that is a good idea. It is not a good idea at all!