In honor of our son’s fourteenth birthday, I thought I might share the details surrounding his birth, because, you know, that’s what every teenager wants you to tell your friends. But don’t worry, I’m not going to divulge anything embarrassing, just one of our family’s many adventure stories. I hope you find it interesting and that it informs you a little about the nature of mission work.
We were living on the edge of the jungle in Natal, Brazil, when I got pregnant with Ben. Our house was a large concrete cylinder with curved walls, no climate control or window coverings, and all sorts of critters in and out, day and night. We never minded the mice that ate the crumbs off the floor, the bats that swooped in and took up residence under the stairs, or the geckos that were so prevalent they served as part of the wall decor. There were even tiny sticky frogs that lived in the toilet and delighted in attaching themselves to various body parts when we raised the lid. It did get old sharing our house with so many unwelcome guests, but they were all fairly harmless—until they weren’t.
One Saturday morning when Jonah and Andy came to join us in bed, a prehistoric looking bug approximately the length and width of a ruler scurried up the comforter with his million legs and joined our huddle. You’ve never seen a group disperse so fast. We were all immediately on our feet looking for something to kill it with. Being a typical homeschooling family, we instead caught, caged, and studied it. Turns out it was an Amazonian giant centipede. The internet listed mice, bats, lizards, and frogs among its favorite foods. Those were all of our regular tenants, so it wasn’t surprising that we began to see more and more of those little monsters in our home. We agreed that might not be the best home for a baby, so we moved into the city.
Our new place was nice and clean and varmint free, a welcome and relaxing change. I exercised and ate good local foods, including water from fresh green coconuts, which I enjoyed almost daily until I discovered two things: coconut water has an insane amount of glucose, and I had gestational diabetes. My case was serious enough to require insulin, which meant I had to give myself a shot every day. I decided the best way to psyche myself up for that challenge was to do it in front of the family. I knew I couldn’t hesitate if my boys were watching, so I held up the syringe, pinched my thigh, and with a big lying smile, jabbed that shiny needle into my thigh. Every day. For four months. It got much easier.
Just about the time we were settled into our new house and I was getting comfortable with my health regimen, I began to itch—a lot! Not like the belly-skin-stretching itch that’s normal with pregnancy. This was an intense all over sensation that wasn’t really on my skin but seemingly under it. It was as if fiberglass particles were coursing through my blood and itching my veins. My incessant scratching became involuntary. I even did it in my sleep and drew blood. Nobody knew what it was or what to do about it, including my doctor. So I did what every health care professional discourages and started researching on the internet until I was able to confirm my suspicion that something was indeed wrong.
Cholestasis of pregnancy is probably not something you have ever heard of, but it’s what I had, and it meant our baby would likely die in utero just weeks before he was due. The itching I experienced was from high levels of bile acid building up in my liver and spilling into my bloodstream. Inducing labor was the only way to ensure a live healthy baby, so Ben was basically forced out a little before his time. I have never been happier to meet someone. He was healthy and beautiful and super yellow. We stayed in the hospital for several nights under bilirubin lights to combat a severe case of jaundice that came as a result of my condition.
We moved back to the United States several months after Ben was born. I was traumatized enough by that experience to render me useless on the mission field for a while, and our whole family needed a respite. Looking back, I realize that was an impossibly difficult time, and it’s a miracle we made it through. Looking back, I also realize I would do it one hundred times over for this beloved child of ours.
Our family birthday celebrations always include presents and cake and song —all of the traditional birthday things. But every year that March third comes around, John and I remember how much God has blessed us to be able to commemorate our third son’s birth at all. We’re not promised one more year, so we cherish each one as a gift. I hope you do too. If you get nothing else from reading this, I hope you will hug your kids today and pray for your missionaries always.
3 Responses
Sam, you and John and your family are and inspiration for all who know you. May God continue to bless your family as you are the hands and feet of our savior.
Thank you, Ed!
You are always an encouragement to us. We love you!
Sam, you and John and your family are and inspiration for all who know you. May God continue to bless your family as you are the hands and feet of our savior.