SchadeBLOG

Before I get into the thing with the truck and all, I owe my daughter a story. Today is Bear’s first birthday. I have never actually written down her birthstory, so I’d like to take the opportunity to do that now. Not sure if there will be any funny stuff here, as I’m just going to write. But I hope it’s enjoyable none the less.

If there’s anything that you should have learned about me from this site it’s that there are very few things I take seriously. Life, in my opinion, was not given to us just for us to go around working our butts off and not enjoying anything. I don’t think that there’s anything on this planet that isn’t worth joking about - including death and taxes. On the other hand, there are a few things I take seriously. Some of them are:

1. God and Jesus Christ.
2. My role and responsibility as a Priesthood holder in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
3. My role and responsibility as a husband.
4. My role and responsibilty as a father to my children.

Almost anything else is fair game to be poked fun at, including myself and rumors about us Mormons. After saying all that, though, I get very serious when it comes to my kids. And last year, on June 25, my wife, children, and I welcomed into our happy home the fourth Schadeling, whom I dotingly refer to in this blog as Bear.

Mrs. Schadeboy and I, for the last two births, have practiced what is known as Unassisted Childbirth (UC). This is pretty much where the birth happens at home, with only the mother and father participating. You got it right, for both of my daughters, I helped my wife birth our children. No midwife. No doctors. Just me, my wife, and a lot of towels around the bed to make cleanup a lot easier.

At the same time, birth can probably be ranked up there as one of the biggest things that will happen in the life of a child. I’d rank it right up there with walking, reading, and watching the Star Wars movies for the first time. So I don’t necessarily like the idea of not having a lifeline to use in the event that something doesn’t work right with the normal birth process. So while my wife and I choose to homebirth our babies, we also hire a midwife. We just don’t call her until after the birth. This is understood by the midwife, as well. While she’s certainly available to come before the birth, she knows that most likely the child will have already arrived by the time she gets the call from us, and all she has to do is the administrative work.

All of this brings me to the story of my daughter’s entry into this world. I’ve been hesitant to write this over the past year because there really isn’t anything profound to say. But I do need to record it. I just don’t think I can do it justice.

The birth of my first daughter, Monkey, was a very moving experience for me. It was emotional, and special. Bear’s birth was totally different. It was just…there. It happened. It was very technical in nature. While I was moved by the miracle of the birth, it wasn’t like Monkey’s birth at all. And I feel badly for not having the same emotional experience as with Monkey. We went through the motions, the pushing, and everything, and then she was born.

Contractions started early in the morning the day before Bear’s arrival. After coming home from work, I was busy trying frantically to get our cooler repaired. I was not going to have my wife pass out on me due to the room being too hot. This almost happened with the birth of Radio. Of course, because all home components are designed to break in the worst way possible at the worst possible moment, the cooler repair turned into a major undertaking, ending with me having to replace the entire motor. The whole time my wife is laboring in the house. Fortunately, we have a mother-in-law.

I got our cooler running and everything progressed well throughout the rest of the evening. At 2 the following morning, I was awakened by my wife telling me “it’s time”. The course of the next few hours brings more contractions. I help as best I can, but basically I just stand around going “huh?” I mean, I really don’t know what to do except to watch and offer encouragement. I just wait there and do what I can. The real action started about 45 minutes later, though, when Wifey saw some deep red blood and decided she was uncomfortable with this. She asked for the midwife to be called. I made it to the door of the room just in time to hear, “There’s the head!”

I thought this couldn’t be. I mean, the head isn’t supposed to just appear there, you know? So I walked back to my wife and sure enough, there’s the head. It had just kind of popped out there. At this point I want to check the cord to make sure it’s not going to choke the baby, but there’s not time. The next surge pushes the baby completely out, and there she is. Baby Bear, born into this wonderful and scary world of ours, laying in my hands. She looks up at me and says, “Hey! Whoa! What happened?”

No seriously, she doesn’t say that. But she did look real tired from the move. I smiled at her, made sure she was breathing (that’s kind of an important step), then gently handed her to her mother.

My two older children had expressed an interest in seeing the birth of their sister. I wasn’t sure, but Wifey was okay with it. You know, there are some things that children shouldn’t see, and some may think that childbirth is one of them. But childbirth is not a dramatic, terrible, wicked, gory thing that can scar a child. It’s miraculous, life giving, and blessed. God sanctions birth, encourages it, and has designed our lives to be requried of it. So why not let a child witness a miracle? Both of my sons were awed by the experience. They watched their sister be born. They witnessed it. To me, that was a wonderful thing. I’m glad we allowed them to be there for it.

Happy Birthday, Bear! I love you, and I’m very grateful that the Lord has seen fit that I could be your dad. You are a great blessing to me.

This isn’t the best picture of Bear. Keep in mind, this is her birthday party. And she really likes her parties. Yes, that’s party food on her forehead.