Psalms 127:3-5a Behold, children are a heritage from the LORD, The fruit of the womb is a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, So are the children of one’s youth. Happy is the man who has his quiver full of them…
Posted on January 14th for my son’s 14th birthday.
Not even a day old and my second born–a baby boy–made the news. Snow Baby–first baby born in 1999 in a van. Not only was his arrival broadcast on all three of our local news channels but it was aired on the Today Show. We celebrated our sons 14th birthday this week–January 8.
Day after day winter’s white piled high, snow plows were on duty day and night, and my husband seemed to never get done plowing our driveway. It was the deepest snow in recent history. He wanted to make sure we could get out of our drive in a moments notice. Although the drive was clear, bags were packed, and we were anxious to meet our little bundle of joy–we waited. His due date came and went and we began to count–one day, two days, three, and then four (BINGO).
About one o’clock in the morning on Friday, January 8, 1999 I woke and couldn’t go back to sleep–but then who could sleep with their stomach swollen-large nearly ready to pop. I decided to get up and watch something on television. I settled on a movie about a teenage boy who painted graffiti–in the middle of the night, viewing choices are pretty slim.
I finished the movie and returned to bed, but still sleep would not find me. I rose once again and settled myself on the couch–void of the television. About a half an hour later I was greeted by a sharp pain in my abdomen. I didn’t think much about it until exactly five minutes later a second pain stuck. The third pain was delivered only three minutes later. From that point on the pains became constant–intensity growing by the minute. I immediately woke my husband and phoned my father to come over to watch our two-year old son–who was sleeping comfortably in his room completely unaware that he was soon to become a big brother.
My father arrived twenty or thirty minutes later. We wasted no time embarking for the hospital. Snow was pouring from the heavens, roads were treacherous, and windshield wipers scraped fast and furious. Pains mounting with each moment, but we were on our way to the interstate–about five minutes from our home. I commented that my sister was going to be disappointed that our newest addition couldn’t have waited one more day to be born, on her birthday–January 9.
My husband maneuvered onto the highway–pain ripping through me. One hand upon the dash, the other pressing tightly on my abdomen where pain is most sharp–trying to alleviate a fraction of the pain. Traffic moving at a snail’s pace, intent on remaining on the road rather than slipping off onto the berm.
We approach the first exit (7 miles from ours), my nails scrape down the dash as I squeeze hand into a fist. My husband senses things are progressing much to quickly. He asks, “Do want me to get off and call for an ambulance?”
I reply, “No, just keep driving.” We continue to speed past cars, which must be wondering where’s the fire? As pain intensifies and I become frightened, I feel we must go faster–I steal a look at the speedometer 45 mph. In my panic I think he’s not even going the speed limit, however, I say nothing. I became desperate for God! I began to pray, “Be with me this night…be with me this night.” Over and over I repeated this prayer and He was there.
We travel about twelve more miles and my water breaks. I begin to cry not because of pain, but I worry I have ruined our van. It was the first car we had ever bought brand new and we’d only had it six months. My husband tells me not to worry about the van, and I immediately stop crying. In the next moment I feel an immediate need to push. I tell my husband and he says, “Well whatever you do, don’t push.” I say, “O.k.” But in the next moment I realize it is impossible not to. Therefore, I do what comes natural, I push.
A wreck unfolds right before our eyes, my husband skillfully swerves, curves, and steers around the wreck. We are ten minutes from the hospital and I tell my husband I feel the head. He immediately pulls over to the side of the road, hops out of the car, and tries to flag someone down to help–no one stops.
I give one final push and my little boy arrives on the scene. A moment later my husband opens the car door and immediately picks up our son. He hands him to me and began pulling blankets from our overnight bag. The very ones I had packed to bring him home from the hospital in. He was perfect, completely healthy, and as soon as he was wrapped up he went right to sleep. His delivery, from first pain to birth, lasted only one hour and twenty minutes.
On our way once again to the hospital I ask my husband if he knew what sex the baby was. He replied, “No.” In our excitement we had forgotten to look. I quickly took a quick peak and discovered we had another little boy.
Once we arrived at the hospital my husband went inside to alert the hospital of our arrival. A staff of nurses came hurriedly out to the car. A scalpel was used to cut the umbilical cord and my son was hurried into the hospital. The others assisted me onto a gurney and checked me into the hospital.
My sister was so excited that she alerted all the news stations in town. And that’s how our second son became a celebrity.
The van that our little son was born in, is a Chevy Venture–which we are still driving today. Since our little guy came into the world in such a special way we decided to name him after our van, his middle name is Venture.
Our little Snow Baby still loves the snow. He prayed all November and December for snow. God answered his pray’s mightily the day after Christmas, when we received somewhere between ten and twelve inches of the white powder.
Hope you have enjoyed this story, I always enjoy telling it.
Count blessings, Kasey