When we found out that my wife was pregnant with our second child, we naturally assumed it would be a girl. We already had one of those, felt pretty comfortable with her, so this one would definitely be a girl as well. When we found out the baby was a boy, it was a bit of a surprise.
Caleb Franklin Stahl was born on the night of October 25, 2008. It was a dark and stormy night, seriously, it really was a dark and stormy night. No offense to Snoopy. We were only about a week from the due date this time and Caelyn had fallen asleep on the couch between my wife and I when things started to get interesting.
Our original plan was that when Kerry went into labor, we would take our daughter to some friends of ours. Their son was about her age and she would stay there until I came to get her after her brother was born. When Kerry told me she was in labor, I called our friends to alert them and tell them we would be coming by later to drop off Caelyn.
Kerry called her doctor. The doctor on call told her to wait about an hour, then call back to update them on the contractions. About 30 minutes into labor, it became apparent waiting an hour was not an option and we would not have time to take our daughter over to our friend's house. We then called our next door neighbors who promptly explained to their dinner guests that it would be an early night and came right over. I took the still sleeping Caelyn to our bedroom and put her in our bed. Kerry and I then drove through thunder, lightning, downed tree limbs and a bit of flooding to get to the hospital.
She was admitted and we found ourselves in the delivery room. After a short time, Kerry asked me to tell the nurses she was ready for the epidural. At the request, the nurse looked at me and asked, "Allready?" We had not been there very long.
The nurse came to take a look and was no longer surprised at the request. The only thing holding back the birth was for the water to break. This kid was ready to come out and there would be no time for the epidural. The doctor and the nurses just waited around for a little bit until the water broke, then Caleb made his appearance.
He didn't yell immediately, scaring the crap out of me, but soon he was complaining and telling all of us just what he thought of the bright lights and the cold. I stayed at the hospital for a while, then went home and crawled into bed.
When Caelyn woke up, I told her that her brother had arrived and he and mommy were at the hospital. She immediately wanted to go see. We arrived at the hospital and I walked her to the room where her mother and brother were. She then proceeded to get in his face.
Now 18 months old, his sister still gets in his face. Before he could roll over, he was very watchful. His eyes were always tracking objects moving around the room. We believe this is because of his sister and her sudden movements.
While he can be loud, he is very different from his sister. He personality is much calmer though no less diabolical. Where his sister would run through a wall, he is content to methodically dig through it. He is still very watchful and tries very hard to figure things out. We fully expect to walk into a room one day to find the TV or the stereo spread out in pieces across the floor while he sits in the middle of it all with a screwdriver in his hand.
Before we bought a high chair with shoulder straps, he had climbed out of his old one twice, each time so fast I didn't know it until he hit the floor.
He is tough in his own way but not particularly daring. Almost nothing fazes him. He can be in a room full of larger children with objects literally flying over his head and simply go about his business. In his collisions with other children, rarely does he so much as flinch while another child may start to cry.
He is also an extreme flirt. He manages to get women and girls of all ages to do his bidding even though he can barely speak. He has a special "hi" he breaks out when he really wants attention from a girl. He delivers the line like Joey from friends saying, "How you doin?"
He is also not above catcalls. One day while walking to the train station to meet my wife, I was pushing him in the stroller. He started leaning out toward the street and yelling. It was then I looked and saw a pretty 20 something year old girl walking on the other side of the street. He was determined to get her attention.
As for music, his taste tends to be bands with girl lead singers. Paramore, Flyleaf, Mindy Smith, Joan Jett, though I think if she is pretty and sings, he is interested. If she can sing and play guitar, he is really interested.
There is no good way to sum up his personality, as it develops more each day, so I will leave you with this simple thought about life with Caleb at the moment: He has reached the age where he is into everything he can reach. Unfortunately, we are still adjusting to this ability and most of the time don't realize he can get to it until he has it.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Thursday, May 13, 2010
The Cast Part One - The Girl
One of the most profound experiences I ever had was witnessing the birth of my children. I am sure that even though the circumstances may be different, the overall emotions and experiences are the about the same for all who go through it. It is awe inspiring and terrifying and unexplainable joy all at the same time.
For me, there is also a sense of helplessness as I watched my wife give birth. She was experiencing things I could not truly imagine or understand and when she cried out in pain, there was almost nothing I could do to help. Being there as my children were born has given me an appreciation of just how strong a woman can be when necessary. If I had to be the one to get pregnant, the human race would soon be extinct.
Long before we had children, my wife and I had decided that if possible, one of us would stay home to take care of the kids. My wife, educated at Rice while I barely went to class at UT had the better education, job and benefits so I was to be a stay at home dad.
As a result, I quit my job about a 6 weeks before our daughter was to be born to get her room and the house ready for the new arrival. On the verge of becoming parents for the first time, we had grand ideas that involved a lot of painting and general work.
Our morning routine involved my wife getting up, getting ready for work and then getting me up to drive her to the train station. I would then come home, eat and work on that day's '"Honey Do" list. On the day our daughter was born, my wife woke me up at about the usual time to take her to the train. I remember getting up to get my keys when my wife told me she thought her water had just broke.
It was then that I said what may have been one of the stupidest lines I have ever uttered. I looked at my wife, and with absolute sincerity asked her, "Are you sure?" Needless to say, she was.
A mad scramble ensued. It was a Friday. Exactly three weeks to the day before the due date and we had planned on packing the hospital bag that weekend. We eventually got our things together and headed to the hospital.
The whole birth process was pretty uneventful as far as those things go. Kerry was not in labor that long and if it wasn't that they needed several attempts to get the epidural in her, it would probably have been one of the easiest labors in history which, of course, means it was still pretty hard on her.
Caelyn Natalie Stahl was born on August 5th, 2005 and she looked just like she had burst out of some poor unsuspecting person's stomach. She looked so much like a baby alien that I almost expected a second set of teeth to shoot out. But instead of that, she cried and I experienced the first of many amazing moments of being a father. I called her name, and she quieted. Not even out in the world but a couple of minutes and my voice stopped her cries. I still don't fully appreciate that power of that moment and maybe I never will.
Fast forward over 4 1/2 years later. There have been many different experiences. Her first words, her first steps, her first trip to the ER, her first surgery, her first day at preschool and many more firsts that all make for interesting stories I will relay in the future. But for now, here is a snapshot of who that little alien baby has become so far.
She is relentless, tough as nails and loud. Virtually fearless and quite possibly insane or at least a candidate for Ritalin in the future =-), she refuses to back down from anyone but doesn't hit, kick or bite. She is very sweet natured and empathetic. She has a craving for knowledge and peppers us with questions about anything that interests her. Lately, she has been asking more and more questions about God and has been showing me what is meant when the Bible speaks about the faith of a child.
She can also be quite volatile. Her first reaction to almost everything is to get in someones face and she wont back down even if the boy is twice her size. She would rather run than walk and never met anything that she wont jump off of.
Musically, she is a punk rocker. Other than a song of children singing contemporary Christian music (think Kidz Bop) and Laurie Berkner, the music she wants to hear "has to rock." For almost two years, the only music she would listen to in the car was The Ramones and they are still the most requested though she has branched out to bands like Rancid, Runaways/Joan Jett, Linkin Park, AC/DC and ZZ Top (whom she calls beards). I include the band notes because it a fit way of describing her nature.
Perhaps, though, the best way to describe our daughter's nature is to mention she had hernia surgery a while back that required general anesthesia. After surgery, before she woke, we were there with a nurse who watched her vitals the whole time. After she woke, she was then moved to a recovery area where she could rest a bit and it could be determined that she would have no trouble eating, drinking or using the bathroom. In that recovery area, less than an hour, hour and a half after surgery, she was jumping on the bed.
For me, there is also a sense of helplessness as I watched my wife give birth. She was experiencing things I could not truly imagine or understand and when she cried out in pain, there was almost nothing I could do to help. Being there as my children were born has given me an appreciation of just how strong a woman can be when necessary. If I had to be the one to get pregnant, the human race would soon be extinct.
Long before we had children, my wife and I had decided that if possible, one of us would stay home to take care of the kids. My wife, educated at Rice while I barely went to class at UT had the better education, job and benefits so I was to be a stay at home dad.
As a result, I quit my job about a 6 weeks before our daughter was to be born to get her room and the house ready for the new arrival. On the verge of becoming parents for the first time, we had grand ideas that involved a lot of painting and general work.
Our morning routine involved my wife getting up, getting ready for work and then getting me up to drive her to the train station. I would then come home, eat and work on that day's '"Honey Do" list. On the day our daughter was born, my wife woke me up at about the usual time to take her to the train. I remember getting up to get my keys when my wife told me she thought her water had just broke.
It was then that I said what may have been one of the stupidest lines I have ever uttered. I looked at my wife, and with absolute sincerity asked her, "Are you sure?" Needless to say, she was.
A mad scramble ensued. It was a Friday. Exactly three weeks to the day before the due date and we had planned on packing the hospital bag that weekend. We eventually got our things together and headed to the hospital.
The whole birth process was pretty uneventful as far as those things go. Kerry was not in labor that long and if it wasn't that they needed several attempts to get the epidural in her, it would probably have been one of the easiest labors in history which, of course, means it was still pretty hard on her.
Caelyn Natalie Stahl was born on August 5th, 2005 and she looked just like she had burst out of some poor unsuspecting person's stomach. She looked so much like a baby alien that I almost expected a second set of teeth to shoot out. But instead of that, she cried and I experienced the first of many amazing moments of being a father. I called her name, and she quieted. Not even out in the world but a couple of minutes and my voice stopped her cries. I still don't fully appreciate that power of that moment and maybe I never will.
Fast forward over 4 1/2 years later. There have been many different experiences. Her first words, her first steps, her first trip to the ER, her first surgery, her first day at preschool and many more firsts that all make for interesting stories I will relay in the future. But for now, here is a snapshot of who that little alien baby has become so far.
She is relentless, tough as nails and loud. Virtually fearless and quite possibly insane or at least a candidate for Ritalin in the future =-), she refuses to back down from anyone but doesn't hit, kick or bite. She is very sweet natured and empathetic. She has a craving for knowledge and peppers us with questions about anything that interests her. Lately, she has been asking more and more questions about God and has been showing me what is meant when the Bible speaks about the faith of a child.
She can also be quite volatile. Her first reaction to almost everything is to get in someones face and she wont back down even if the boy is twice her size. She would rather run than walk and never met anything that she wont jump off of.
Musically, she is a punk rocker. Other than a song of children singing contemporary Christian music (think Kidz Bop) and Laurie Berkner, the music she wants to hear "has to rock." For almost two years, the only music she would listen to in the car was The Ramones and they are still the most requested though she has branched out to bands like Rancid, Runaways/Joan Jett, Linkin Park, AC/DC and ZZ Top (whom she calls beards). I include the band notes because it a fit way of describing her nature.
Perhaps, though, the best way to describe our daughter's nature is to mention she had hernia surgery a while back that required general anesthesia. After surgery, before she woke, we were there with a nurse who watched her vitals the whole time. After she woke, she was then moved to a recovery area where she could rest a bit and it could be determined that she would have no trouble eating, drinking or using the bathroom. In that recovery area, less than an hour, hour and a half after surgery, she was jumping on the bed.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Introduction/One Year Ago Today
It was a year ago today that my life changed. What started out as a fairly typical Monday ended with me in the ER with a heart monitor and a nitroglycerin drip in my arm. It was six days before I was allowed to return home.
The Sunday before the ER trip was Mother's Day. I am afraid it was not much of one for my wife. I was barely able to walk I was in so much pain. I had gout. It was something I knew nothing about and had never had before, at least nothing like this. So it was decided that I should see a doctor on Monday.
That Monday was normal and my foot didn't even hurt much anymore. I seriously considered not seeing the doctor at all but my wife was pretty insistent, especially as she had made arrangements to work from home and watch the kids. So, I got an appointment for that afternoon.
I went to my appointment thinking they would tell me I have gout, give me a printout of things not to eat and drink and send me on my way. I sat on the exam room table and they took my blood pressure. That is the moment my life changed. The nurse took it twice then went to get another nurse to take it as well. I don't remember the exact number but it was high, very high. Heart attack, stroke, sudden death high and I was told do not pass go, do not collect $200, go directly to the ER at our local hospital, Mountainside.
So that is what I did. For some reason I was not sent by ambulance, I drove myself. Looking back at the ER's reaction to me, I probably should not have been driving. They wouldn't let me walk and even insisted on being next to me if I so much as stood up.
It was mid-afternoon when I went in to the ER. It was mid-evening when they decided I would need to be admitted. It was just a question of where I would go. They stopped the nitroglycerin drip for a while to see how my body would react. Depending on the reaction, I would either be sent to the Telemetry floor (for heart patients) or to the ICU. Finally, it was decided I would be sent to Telemetry and about 3am, I was crawling into a bed there and the nitro drip was restored.
During the course of those six days, I don't know how many times I had my vitals checked, had to pee in a bottle or had blood drawn. The only constants were the IVs and the heart monitor. I was blessed with tremendous care by everyone from doctors and nurses to volunteers, techs, chaplains and cleaning crews. I remember one nurse in particular who made it a goal to get me out of there and when on duty would not let anyone else take my pressure. She was adamant the numbers would go down and I can't explain how much she meant to me at that time.
Each day the doctors tried different drugs in various combinations, always optimistic that day would be the day I would be sent home but my blood pressure would not go down and my heart would not stop racing. There were even visible reactions from the techs who took my vitals when they saw the numbers.
In addition to the numerous tests run on my blood and urine, I was sent for an MRI and an MRA. I spent about an hour in one of those tubes you see on TV medical shows listening to bad radio and unable to move. After all the poking, prodding and tests (all of which came back clean), it was decided I had benign hypertension. It is just a way of saying there was no set cause other than genetics and lifestyle.
Through it all, I thought and I prayed. I thought and I prayed and more than once I cried. I was scared. I have never felt fear like that before. This was a different fear than any other. It was the fear of facing my mortality.
We all know we are going to die some day. We all have moments when we barely miss a car crash or other accident and think, I could have been killed. We think about it a little and then it is gone. This though, was the first time I realized my mortality in every fiber of my being. This was not knowing intellectually I was going to die but knowing it all the way to the very core of my person.
And six days is a long time to think with that hanging over your head hearing the calls of code blue down the hall or the woman screaming she was in pain and needed help. Six days was a long time to think about what I believed and how I was conducting my life. Six days was a long time to think about what kind of father, husband and person I was and was becoming. Six days was the time I needed to realize, God was kicking me in the butt and giving me a chance to straighten out my life.
For quite a while, my life had been in a fairly downward spiral. I did not adjust to suburban life well. I missed the lifestyle of the city. I was bitter about that. My kids were a lot of work, and being a stay at home dad, a lot of the time they drove me crazy. I had been sleep deprived for years and ate crap, just anything quick and nukeable would do. I was lethargic and while never diagnosed, doing a pretty good impression of a depressed person. Basically, I never wanted to do anything, go anywhere, was getting bitter, complaining and everything the kids did was driving me nuts.
I paid lip service to my faith at best and ignored it much of the time. I prayed each day for God's help and then promptly went about ignoring Him and wallowing in my own essentially, self-created misery. Fortunately, God did not give up on me. It is my belief that He decided that since I would not listen when He spoke quietly, He would speak loudly. So, He put me in the hospital.
The gout that was so bad I could hardly walk had never happened before that weekend and has not happened since but it may have saved my life. I thank God for that gout. It got me to the physician's assistant
who found the high blood pressure who sent me to the hospital where, eventually, they found the right combination of medicines and were able to release me.
But during those six days, I found something even more important. I found a renewed faith that allowed me
to see that the problems I thought I had, the problems that were turning me into a bitter, cranky person and poor example for my children, were not that big at all.
I had to make changes and through God's help, I was able to. The first part was my attitude needed to change. The second was my diet and exercise. If I wanted to be around to watch my children grow up, I needed to make those changes immediately and with help from family, friends and God, I have been able to.
It is still an ongoing process. I still get frustrated though nothing sticks and festers they way it used to. I would still rather live in the city than the suburbs and yes my kids, still drive me nuts sometimes but now, I try to never fail to see the blessings I have been given. My health has improved dramatically of the past year. I am no longer overweight. I exercise and eat much better. When I left the hospital I was on four different medications. I am now down to two and as I post this, it is the third day since the dosage on one of the two remaining has been lowered.
I realize now how I had let myself become something that I loath. It didn't happen overnight, in fact it happened so slowly I didn't even recognize it until I was forced to. It was, in the words of a Casting Crowns song, "a slow fade".
So this is one year since my life changed and this is the first of what I hope will be many posts about my life as a stay at home dad. If I had started this last year as I had originally thought I would, it would have had a much different feel.
I have written what is a particularly long introduction to this blog as a way of explaining where I am coming from as I write these posts. The experience in the hospital last year goes a long way toward shaping how I view the day to day dramas of parenting. Even the toughest day parenting is better than one in the hospital. Some days are better than others. Some days I am still tired and cranky but each day as I take my medications, I am reminded that every day is a gift and no one is guaranteed a tomorrow. I am also reminded of that time in hospital and the person I used to be. I don't want to forget that time, as scary as it was, because without it, who knows where I would be. I might not even be here at all.
The Sunday before the ER trip was Mother's Day. I am afraid it was not much of one for my wife. I was barely able to walk I was in so much pain. I had gout. It was something I knew nothing about and had never had before, at least nothing like this. So it was decided that I should see a doctor on Monday.
That Monday was normal and my foot didn't even hurt much anymore. I seriously considered not seeing the doctor at all but my wife was pretty insistent, especially as she had made arrangements to work from home and watch the kids. So, I got an appointment for that afternoon.
I went to my appointment thinking they would tell me I have gout, give me a printout of things not to eat and drink and send me on my way. I sat on the exam room table and they took my blood pressure. That is the moment my life changed. The nurse took it twice then went to get another nurse to take it as well. I don't remember the exact number but it was high, very high. Heart attack, stroke, sudden death high and I was told do not pass go, do not collect $200, go directly to the ER at our local hospital, Mountainside.
So that is what I did. For some reason I was not sent by ambulance, I drove myself. Looking back at the ER's reaction to me, I probably should not have been driving. They wouldn't let me walk and even insisted on being next to me if I so much as stood up.
It was mid-afternoon when I went in to the ER. It was mid-evening when they decided I would need to be admitted. It was just a question of where I would go. They stopped the nitroglycerin drip for a while to see how my body would react. Depending on the reaction, I would either be sent to the Telemetry floor (for heart patients) or to the ICU. Finally, it was decided I would be sent to Telemetry and about 3am, I was crawling into a bed there and the nitro drip was restored.
During the course of those six days, I don't know how many times I had my vitals checked, had to pee in a bottle or had blood drawn. The only constants were the IVs and the heart monitor. I was blessed with tremendous care by everyone from doctors and nurses to volunteers, techs, chaplains and cleaning crews. I remember one nurse in particular who made it a goal to get me out of there and when on duty would not let anyone else take my pressure. She was adamant the numbers would go down and I can't explain how much she meant to me at that time.
Each day the doctors tried different drugs in various combinations, always optimistic that day would be the day I would be sent home but my blood pressure would not go down and my heart would not stop racing. There were even visible reactions from the techs who took my vitals when they saw the numbers.
In addition to the numerous tests run on my blood and urine, I was sent for an MRI and an MRA. I spent about an hour in one of those tubes you see on TV medical shows listening to bad radio and unable to move. After all the poking, prodding and tests (all of which came back clean), it was decided I had benign hypertension. It is just a way of saying there was no set cause other than genetics and lifestyle.
Through it all, I thought and I prayed. I thought and I prayed and more than once I cried. I was scared. I have never felt fear like that before. This was a different fear than any other. It was the fear of facing my mortality.
We all know we are going to die some day. We all have moments when we barely miss a car crash or other accident and think, I could have been killed. We think about it a little and then it is gone. This though, was the first time I realized my mortality in every fiber of my being. This was not knowing intellectually I was going to die but knowing it all the way to the very core of my person.
And six days is a long time to think with that hanging over your head hearing the calls of code blue down the hall or the woman screaming she was in pain and needed help. Six days was a long time to think about what I believed and how I was conducting my life. Six days was a long time to think about what kind of father, husband and person I was and was becoming. Six days was the time I needed to realize, God was kicking me in the butt and giving me a chance to straighten out my life.
For quite a while, my life had been in a fairly downward spiral. I did not adjust to suburban life well. I missed the lifestyle of the city. I was bitter about that. My kids were a lot of work, and being a stay at home dad, a lot of the time they drove me crazy. I had been sleep deprived for years and ate crap, just anything quick and nukeable would do. I was lethargic and while never diagnosed, doing a pretty good impression of a depressed person. Basically, I never wanted to do anything, go anywhere, was getting bitter, complaining and everything the kids did was driving me nuts.
I paid lip service to my faith at best and ignored it much of the time. I prayed each day for God's help and then promptly went about ignoring Him and wallowing in my own essentially, self-created misery. Fortunately, God did not give up on me. It is my belief that He decided that since I would not listen when He spoke quietly, He would speak loudly. So, He put me in the hospital.
The gout that was so bad I could hardly walk had never happened before that weekend and has not happened since but it may have saved my life. I thank God for that gout. It got me to the physician's assistant
who found the high blood pressure who sent me to the hospital where, eventually, they found the right combination of medicines and were able to release me.
But during those six days, I found something even more important. I found a renewed faith that allowed me
to see that the problems I thought I had, the problems that were turning me into a bitter, cranky person and poor example for my children, were not that big at all.
I had to make changes and through God's help, I was able to. The first part was my attitude needed to change. The second was my diet and exercise. If I wanted to be around to watch my children grow up, I needed to make those changes immediately and with help from family, friends and God, I have been able to.
It is still an ongoing process. I still get frustrated though nothing sticks and festers they way it used to. I would still rather live in the city than the suburbs and yes my kids, still drive me nuts sometimes but now, I try to never fail to see the blessings I have been given. My health has improved dramatically of the past year. I am no longer overweight. I exercise and eat much better. When I left the hospital I was on four different medications. I am now down to two and as I post this, it is the third day since the dosage on one of the two remaining has been lowered.
I realize now how I had let myself become something that I loath. It didn't happen overnight, in fact it happened so slowly I didn't even recognize it until I was forced to. It was, in the words of a Casting Crowns song, "a slow fade".
So this is one year since my life changed and this is the first of what I hope will be many posts about my life as a stay at home dad. If I had started this last year as I had originally thought I would, it would have had a much different feel.
I have written what is a particularly long introduction to this blog as a way of explaining where I am coming from as I write these posts. The experience in the hospital last year goes a long way toward shaping how I view the day to day dramas of parenting. Even the toughest day parenting is better than one in the hospital. Some days are better than others. Some days I am still tired and cranky but each day as I take my medications, I am reminded that every day is a gift and no one is guaranteed a tomorrow. I am also reminded of that time in hospital and the person I used to be. I don't want to forget that time, as scary as it was, because without it, who knows where I would be. I might not even be here at all.
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