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Today is the annual March for Life in Washington, and it is appropriate to post a story about my own unborn grandchild. My son Samuel and daughter-in-law Laura learned on Friday that they are expecting a son in June. The 20-week scan photos are the first portraits for Peter Samuel Guzman. We are so excited to know that it will be a boy. He put on quite a show of wiggling and leaping and yawning for his parents. Nothing drives home the reality of becoming a parent like those scans!
I still have Sam’s first photos. The wonder of life and God’s creative genius is something that I will never get over. The sacredness of life in the womb has been denied in our nation for 39 years as millions of babies like Peter Samuel have been murdered in abortion clinics.
We thank God for babies, whenever he sends them. Our own miracle baby, Emily Frances, was a shock to us, and completely re-ordered our lives. A more delightful re-ordering could not have been engineered. I spend my days making purple play-do wiener dogs, coloring and listening to the same Wee-Sing songs I was listening to 20 years ago with Sammy and Charlie. And I feel privileged to have such a high calling.
Children come into your life like small tornadoes in pastel blankets, and you are never ever the same. Never again will your own desires and wants and goals have the same importance. Your well-being is caught up with that of those children. Your heart walks around outside of your body. Mothering has been difficult, sometimes heart-breaking, frustrating, and exhausting, but, for me, the most rewarding work I’ve ever done.
(Parenthetically, the reason I never succeeded in an outside career was because I didn’t possess the single-mindedness to do it. My heart has always been at home, my mind wandering to what my children were doing and needing. Because I can’t do an outside job from home at the present time, I do my mommy job and write on the Hope Blog instead!)
We cannot wait to meet Peter Samuel. God bless our little grandson and all the babies in the womb in the dangerous era in which we live. Life is precious. God created it. We must do all we can to protect it.
Peter Samuel Guzman, Age 20 weeks
Emily Frances was born two years ago this morning. After a terrible, long night hooked up to a fetal monitor, maternal monitor, with a pulse-ox on my toe and an IV in my arm that was pumping magnesium into my bloodstream, a pretty young nurse with a pony tail bounded into the room at 6am. “The doctor is here. We’re ready to go. I have your baby’s ankle bracelet and wrist bands in here.” she pointed to the bag in her hand. I’ll never forget that nurse as long as I live and the happy sight of those ID bracelets.
The relief those words evoked is hard to articulate. Emily’s arrival a short time later seemed like a dream of some kind. All those months of being on bed rest, the weeks in the hospital of having my finger stuck for blood sugar checks, having insulin needles four times a day, baby monitoring, blood pressure checks, and then that long night were coming to an end.
Emmy was chubby with very chunky cheeks and dark hair. Had she gone to term, the doctor said she would have been a ten-pounder due to her weight gain from the gestational diabetes. She was a perfect 7 pounds, 7 oz, and 20 inches long with a very distinct cry. In the NICU where she was for 3 weeks while she learned to eat and breathe right, you could always tell her cry from the other babies. (I think all moms can do that, though…)
This is where I finally got to hold her. Magical moment.
I didn’t get to hold her or even really see her for a long time after she arrived. For 3 weeks afterwards, my blood pressure was dangerously high, and I was re-admitted twice, once after Tom called 911 when my blood pressure was 200 over 100-something. I was so frustrated. All that time, I couldn’t be with my new daughter. I cried so many times, because I was afraid she would wonder where her mother went. Common sense told me that she’d be fine, but a heart doesn’t know common sense, and I just wanted her in my arms.
They stuck me back on magnesium, which makes you feel like your eyes are crooked and that you’re burning up. One night in the hospital, I got so fed up, I told the nurse to take me off the mag or I would take the IV out myself. I told her, “I haven’t had seizures, I’m not going to, take it out, please.” She called the doctor, and they must have believed me, because they stopped the mag. (I don’t recommend this, but desperate times call for desperate measures.) After several more ER visits, 2 transfusions and more drama than anybody wants, I went home.
Emmy was able to come home shortly after, and what a day that was! When we got home, Tom had us all surround the baby, give a prayer of thanksgiving that we were both OK, and sing the Doxology together.
Emmy practices her favorite word, "No!" at the household paparazzi.
Two years later, Emmy is a tall for her age (not sure where that came from), thin for her age 2-year-old with a fun and silly sense of humor. There’s a party tonight with 15 loved ones here. We have Aunt Kris who came all the way from Oklahoma, Sam and Laura flew in from Colorado, Mary got here a week ago, and Charlie will be heading out to our house for the cook-out as well. All seven kids will be here, plus all six of Lisa’s family. I think counting Jon, Will, Emmy, me and Tom, that makes 15.
God knew we needed Emily in our family, especially now. She has brought so much love, so many smiles and laughs and so much joy, that words could never do justice to describe it. She sings her “Daddy” song regularly. (The lyrics are, Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy DADDY, daddy, daddy..” all sung in an up and down sing-song voice.) I’m so thankful I have been able to spend time with her, pretty much 24/7 the last two years. She is entering the “no!” stage, and she keeps me on my toes. Next up: potty training!
I’d like to give all glory to God for preserving her life and mine, and for giving us two years of joy with our little Moppet (as Sam calls her.) The first phrase I always taught my babies was this: “I’m…a…blessing!” Emmy greeted me this morning with those words as I got her dressed and we were talking about the party to come. She is a blessing indeed.
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