A Problem Pregnancy

We celebrate our youngest child, Lani's 14th birthday today. Funny how things that seemed so important fourteen years ago, don't matter now.

I remember how I worried for weeks how to tell my Mother-in-law that I was pregnant again for the seventh time, more concerned about her reaction than going through labor again.

Bless her good, practical heart, she had not approved of the previous four additions.  But once they arrived and she grew to love them, she was, as always, the wonderful grandmother she had been to the "approved first two."  Stoic and sensible, she couldn't understand why we kept having babies.  Doggone it, seven was too many!

After the sixth baby, my stomach muscles gave up and I looked five months pregnant all the time.  I didn't have long to hide the impractical fact, that defying all social norms and well-meaning advice, we had done the unthinkable and were once again expecting. 

I usually looked pregnant two months sooner than my skinny pregnant friends and was once asked if we were expecting twins.  We definitely needed to tell Grandma soon, but how?

Keith suggested we simply not tell her and wait for her to notice. In Rural Iowa, people freely talk about things behind your back they wouldn't dream of saying to your face.  Considering how polite and proper she was, she might never mention it. 

Pregnant tummies were easier to hide when we lived three states away.  When we moved nine miles away from her, we no longer had that luxury. I considered writing a letter, so she could adjust in the privacy of her own home, and bring up the subject when and if she wanted to.

           

We had sworn three friends to secrecy until we told Keith’s Mom.  Unless you've lived in a small town, you cannot begin to imagine the difficulties of keeping this kind of stuff private. 

I went with a friend to check out a certified nurse midwife in a town thirty minutes away.  Lisa left her son with a mutual friend for the afternoon, explaining we were going to lunch and then shopping. 

The midwife showed us the hospital’s maternity wing.  We enjoyed the tour until we ran into good friends from church visiting an elderly sick relative.  We exchanged greetings and they asked why Lisa and I were at the hospital.  I don’t think well on my feet and gave an ineffective vague answer, then followed the midwife back to the clinic. 


Gary and Carol didn’t take long to put two and two together.  I learned later, they recognized my midwife and there are only so many reasons a woman of child bearing age would follow a midwife around a hospital. 

           

After I'd been home an hour, Lisa called with an urgent tone in her voice. "You're not going to believe this!"

           

"What?" I tried not to panic, but Lisa was sensible and even-tempered and didn't get uptight about much.

"Cheryl knows you're pregnant."  Cheryl being the friend who had watched Lisa's son that afternoon. 

"You're kidding."

"It gets worse."

 I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes.  "I'm listening." 

She heard it from Kelly who heard it from Tara, who heard it from Gloria at church." (names have been changed to protect the guilty parties) 

Amazing!  How frustratingly amazing.

How did someone I didn't know very well know I was pregnant?  And then feel free to post it on the grapevine?  The friends I'd seen at the hospital weren't even home yet so they hadn't tattled on me. Gloria's family attended our church, so if she told one family member, she probably told them all.  I wanted to express my displeasure to her. If I wanted people to know, I would have told them myself. 

Keith said not to worry about it.

Not worry about it!?!  In a town of 2500 where everyone knows everybody else's business and rumors spread faster than wildfire?  How did Gloria find out?  I called my other two friends who both said they hadn't told anyone.  

Big sigh!  I really wanted Grandma to hear it from us so she needed to be told soon.  I felt like an unwed pregnant teenager afraid to tell her parents.  

Keith solved the problem. We went out for pizza with Grandma that night.  She commented that mutual friends had just had their sixth baby and had caught up with us. 

 Keith couldn't resist and blurted out, "Not for long."

"Gasp! You don't mean . . .”

"Yep.  I do mean.  Sometime near the end of September."

That put the kabosh on polite conversation for the rest of dinner.  Keith had wisely told her in the best place possible.  Being a deeply principled person, she wouldn’t dream of getting angry or upset in a public place.   

What a relief to finally spill the beans.  I knew she didn't approve, and things would be temporarily strained, but we no longer had to fear that she’d find out from the local rumor mill.

We were just in time. That night, Keith's Mom went to choir practice at her church which was a different one than ours. Her Pastor's wife said, "I hear your son's family is expecting again."

           

Good grief!  How in the world did she know?  We didn't run in the same circles.  As far as I knew, she wasn't friends with the lady who had spread the rumor around our church. I shouldn't have been so bothered, but it was the principle of the thing.   

When I complained about this unfair rumor mill, Keith explained that everyone would talk about us, but not for long.  Next week they’d talk about someone else. Sure enough, it's been many years since our seventh pregnancy was headline news.

 

Thankfully Grandma loves babies. She loved Lani from the day she was born. I wasn't able to nurse Lani and Grandma loved when we'd leave Lani with her. She'd rock her and hold her until we came back. Over the years she read books, made grilled cheese sandwiches, baked cookies, knitted mittens and slippers, played card games, and watched TV with Lani. Grandma loved all her grandchidren. It just took her awhile to get used to the idea of seven of them being in one family. 

Lani chose to spend this birthday in Duluth. We'll load the big red van with five sisters and a friend and start her next year of life off right. 

Happy Birthday, Sweetie

(If you want to read another post about Lani's birth, click here.

A Different Kind of Slide Show

My oldest turned 26 last Sunday. 

After a difficult 36 hour labor, Christina was born three days after our first anniversary to green parents who didn’t know much and learned as they went.

Memories flash through my mind like a slide show. 

7 weeks - Working at a Labor Day Family Camp before the advent of portable play pens, we had her sleep in an empty potato box. 

Me wanting a baby gate so she wouldn’t fall down the stairs. Keith insisting she could learn to maneuver stairs. Under his tutelage, at 10 months of age, she could go up and down like nobody’s business.   

Having a convulsion at 16 months old and scaring her mother spitless. The cause never determined, but thankfully she never had another one.

Having an uncanny sense of balance and loving to spin in circles. Clutching the walkman (a gift from Keith’s parents for her second birthday), listening to a Sunday School songs tape, and spinning in circles for long periods of time.

Age 2 – Perched in a carseat in the second row of our packed-to-the-gills old blue Volkswagen Van, surrounded by boxes containing all our worldly possessions as we drove from Colorado Springs to Portland, Oregon where Keith planned to attend seminary.

Age 2 ½ - Not especially happy to have a baby brother. Seemed to resent his intrusion into her life. Took all his clothes out of his drawers and hid them in the closet. 

Age 3 – Asked to play church. Stood up and said, “Let’s sing #55.” After “leading” a few songs, she announced, “Now it’s time for the snacks.” (meaning communion.)

Reading lots of books to her. Bus rides to the library storytime. Coming home with a big bag of books. Many hours with our nose in a book.

Fighting with Andrew while I nursed her baby sister Kiah. After figuring out how to read books to them while nursing a baby, at feeding time I plopped one child on each side of me and we read.

Age 6 - Loving Laura Ingalls Wilder and having a Little House on the Prairie birthday party. My sister made her the happiest girl in the world by giving her an old-fashioned sunbonnet. She proudly walked down a busy street in Portland, dressed in her prairie girl dress and sunbonnet, oblivious that no one else was dressed like her.

Age 6 - Moving back to a Denver suburb after her Daddy finished seminary.

Catching a stray cat and convincing it to stay and become the first Vik family pet. “Jennifer” lived for another 10 years.

Baking and decorating her own 7^th birthday cake because Mom was flat on her back with a ruptured disc. Christina helped a lot as I recovered from back surgery.

Age 8 – Her first experience with grief. Keith’s Dad died unexpectedly at age 70 from a massive heart attack.

Age 10 – Staying overnight with me in the hospital after the birth of her fourth sibling, Anna.

We escaped from our cramped 2 bedroom basement apartment in a huge city and moved to eight acres and an old farmhouse in rural Iowa. So thankful to at last be living near her Grandma and Aunt Karen.

Climbing trees, designing tree forts, raising chickens, countless hours at the local public pool, Legos, 4-H, Fair projects, books, friends, and kittens.

Age 14 – discovered Scrapbooking. I’m rigid and formulaic. She’s an artist. Started going with me once a week on “Mom’s Night Out” to scrapbook or make cards with my friends.

Age 15 – First job, helped with an afterschool program at the library. Loved her boss and enjoyed the job.

Developed a strong interest in politics. Made a scrapbook of political articles. Sent a homemade card to congratulate Iowa's Senator Chuck Grassley on a recent political win.

Graduated at 17 and promptly left home to be a summer camp counselor at Camp Id-Ra-Ha-Je in Colorado.

Came home and worked at a Daycare to save money for her next adventure.

Age 18 – Summer spent at Village Creek Bible Camp as a wrangler.

Age 19 – YWAM Bible School (Youth With a Mission) in Townsville, Australia.  Keith and I didn’t sleep for two days until we knew she’d arrived there safely. She had a whopping good time. After a six weeks Mission trip to Thailand she spent a week in New Zealand before returning home.

After two years at a local community college, she transferred to Iowa State University in Ames, IA to study Political Science and International Studies. She did a semester in Buenos Aires, Argentina (with side trips to Chile, Paraguay, Uruguay, and Brazil) and studied a school year in Spain (with side trips to Ireland, England, and Morocco.)

While in Spain she became a devoted listener to Dave Ramsey podcasts. Impressed with the importance of getting out of debt, she moved home after graduating from college to pay off school loans.

Next on the horizon – Chipping away at her Bucket List and starting Nursing school with Kiah in the fall.

She survived inexperienced parents and grew up to be an interesting, intelligent, determined, and adventurous person.  

Tonight we’ll celebrate with a big birthday dinner with family and friends. So thankful for birthdays to remind us of our blessings.

Happy Birthday Sweetie, we love you.

Case of the Missing Midwife

Amy’s brains turned mushy this past year. Keith says kid’s brains turn to mush when they turn 13 and don’t solidify until sometime in their early 20’s. I now have three teenagers with mushy brains.

After five hospital births, we decided to try a homebirth. We chose a busy, skilled, faith-filled lay mid-wife from South Dakota.

We felt totally comfortable with everything until the week before Amy’s birth, when Judy shared her schedule. To my dismay she had something scheduled almost every day that week. Although she assured me that she rarely missed a birth, I knew in my heart she wouldn’t make it to ours.

I started to worry. I had enough faith for a homebirth, but not enough for a homebirth without a midwife.

Judy’s apprentice lived 40 minutes away. I’d never met the lady but knew someone who did. On Friday afternoon, I had my friend ask Kim if she could come if Judy couldn’t make it. Kim said to give her a call.

I kept praying throughout Friday and God gave me peace that He’d take care of things.

God decided it would be best for my character development if labor started while Judy was five hours away at a conference. There was no way our midwife could make it in time.

Labor began at 3:00 am Saturday morning. Judy suggested we call Kim, who had helped deliver many babies, but never all on her own. Short of going to the emergency room, what other option did I have? Keith called and woke up a total stranger out of a dead sleep in the middle of the night and asked her to come.

Kim said yes but had to leave at 7:30. Keith said we’d take any help she could give. Judy also called another less experienced apprentice who came to help. Both ladies arrived at 5:30.

At 6:30, Keith’s sister took our other children to her house. Talk about pressure, I had one more hour to pop out a baby before Kim left.

At 7:15 am (Thank-you, Jesus) another little girl joined our family. Breathing. Beautiful. Healthy. Except for Judy’s no-show, we had no problems. Kim left at 7:30 and the other apprentice took over.

She was born at sunrise. I looked out the window at the sun coloring the eastern sky and thanked God for being so good to us. Keith suggested the name Autumn Dawn. Which is a beautiful name, but I wanted to wait and make sure.

When seeing she was a girl, the first thought that popped into my head was, “How in the world can someone have so many girls? Now I’ll never make it to church on time.”

Except for the missing midwife, I really liked having a homebirth. It was much more relaxed and enjoyable than a hospital birth. The apprentices were angels in disguise and went above and beyond the call of duty to help in our time of need.

After everyone left, we laid down for a long nap. Keith claims that’s one of the best naps he’s ever had. We both look back fondly on her birth day. A beautiful peaceful warm fall day.

Until…Keith’s sister brought our other kids back at 6:30 that night. Good-bye peaceful day. Shoot me for being honest, but one drawback to a homebirth is if you’re home, your kids assume you’re open for business. Something about seeing Mom in a hospital sends a message that she needs to take it easy and could use extra TLC.

From the perspective of having had six hospital births and one homebirth, I like having babies at home better, but I like recovering in the hospital better.

Normally Keith and I would have freaked out when the midwife couldn’t make it and we were in the hands of an apprentice with a Cinderella curfew. But God gave us both a peace that He was in control and would take care of things. He invented childbirth and we rested in knowing God Almighty was aware of our situation and would act on our behalf. He blessed us with a safe problem-free birth and a sweet healthy baby girl.

Said baby went six days without a name. She just wasn’t an Autumn Dawn. Work, six kids, and visiting parents didn’t give us time to discuss names.

On Thursday Keith came home from work and said, “What do you think about the name, Amy?”

“I love Amy. But I suggested it for the other girls and you never wanted that name.”

“They didn’t look like an Amy. She does.”

Put that way, it made perfect sense. “I don’t think we’ll have another boy,” Keith continued, “so I want her to have my middle name.” Lucky for Amy, Keith’s middle name is Linn.

Amy Linn Vik. Born at sunrise in her parent’s bedroom, one of seven children, blessed with bright eyes, a big smile, a bouncy personality, and a friendly spirit. She unconventionally breezed into our lives on the wings of prayer, faith, good people, and the grace of God.

Perfect Timing

Eleven years ago, we decided Sunday, September 27 would be the worst day for our youngest daughter’s birth. My husband had to preach and friends who could watch our other children would be out of town. God, please—any day but the 27th.

Sure enough—labor started at 2:00 a.m. on the 27th. God, I complained, This is no skin off your nose, but it’s a lot of skin off mine. Why today?

We found someone to stay with our younger children and dashed to the hospital. Thank goodness Keith could drive like a maniac in the middle of the night.

“Great,” Keith groaned. “We’re being pulled over.”

As another contraction gripped my body, I knew every second counted. “We don’t have time to stop,” I said.

Keith jumped from the van and yelled at the police officer. “My wife’s in labor.” Thankfully he believed Keith and waved us on.

I’d assumed frantic hospital dashes with laboring women were products of Hollywood’s imagination. I’d had six babies before without rushing to the hospital. The shortest labor so far was four hours. Apparently it wasn’t in my genes to spit out babies.

Or so I thought. I breathed through another contraction and looked at my two scared daughters Kiah and Erica, ages nine and seven, and knew if I delivered in the van, they’d never want children. “You’d better drive faster.”

“I’m going 70.”

Another contraction tightened, close on the heels of the last one. As the vise grip eased, I gasped, “Go faster.”

Sioux Center Hospital was 45 minutes from home. Would we get there in time? I breathed a prayer of thanks when we arrived.

Drats, the maternity ward was on the second floor. My friend was born on a hospital elevator. I didn’t want that experience, so with the logic of a woman in transition, I took the stairs.

I stopped for another contraction and noticed the time: 4 a.m. A nurse whisked me to a room. She quickly and efficiently dressed me in an indecent hospital gown.

My midwife, Belinda, rushed into the room. After a quick check, she calmly pronounced the baby breech and paged a doctor.

I looked at Belinda in panic. Breech babies usually meant Caesarean births and I didn’t want one. Some doctors deliver breech babies naturally—would she? “What do I do?”

“Calm down and push.”

That I could do. Before the doctor could get his gloves on, I pushed out a beautiful baby girl.

The clock read 4:17 a.m.

Thank God for a breech baby. I’m convinced that’s all that kept her in until we reached the hospital. Because things went so fast, Keith was still able to preach that morning.

Lani could have been born any other day, but God wanted us to rely on Him. He is not confined by our schedules, fears, or limitations. He knows our needs and is in control.

We chose where to have her, but God chose how and when.


Happy 11th Birthday, Lani Renee Vik

The mind of man plans His ways, but the Lord directs His steps. – Proverbs 16:9

When I am weak, He is strong

Anna turned 15 last week.

Birthdays bring back memories. So do birth days. 15 years ago I crossed my fingers, hoping we hadn’t made a big mistake.

After Erica’s birth, I badly ruptured a disc and had back surgery. Both my surgeon and chiropractor advised we not have more children. They said four was a nice number and since pregnancy is hard on the back, we should stop with the healthy children we already had.

I was conflicted. Generally it’s best to follow a doctor’s advice. But was their advice medically valid or did it reflect a personal bias? Keith’s unmarried niece had the same surgery around the same time and her doctor did not tell her to not to have children.

We gambled that the doctors were wrong. I hoped that because God considers children a blessing, He could override a bad back. He designed the whole system so I counted on Him to make it work.

Since I had been led to believe the world would end if I got pregnant again, I religiously followed sound medical pregnancy advice. I ate right, compulsively exercised, and took all reasonable precautions.

We also had another small problem at the time. I didn’t tell my family we were expecting again because my younger brother and his wife were finally expecting after five long infertile years. They had waited so long for their second child, that I wanted all the family limelight to shine on them. They were due in March, we were due in June. I planned to break the news after their baby’s birth.

Which worked great until my parents surprised us with an unexpected visit when John’s baby arrived. My mother stared. speechless as I said, "Oh, by the way. I’m six months pregnant." My parents don’t care how many children we had, but they were shocked that I could be so far along without them knowing. It wasn’t so hard when they live 1,000 miles away.

The downside of this is she asked me for years afterward, "Are you pregnant?" I’d reassure her that I wasn’t pregnant. Then she’d always ask, "You’d tell me, wouldn’t you?" Well, not necessarily.

I went five days late. Two days before her birth, Keith had me shoot baskets for an hour, which at nine months and three days did not feel good. I asked God when Keith gets to heaven to let him be nine months pregnant for one day so he will know what it feels like.

Saturday morning bright and EARLY labor began. You’d think a night owl would have babies at night, but not this time. Things went well and after a four hour labor we welcomed another girl into our family.

The thing is Keith refused to discuss names before our babies arrived. He felt that once the baby was born and we knew if they were a boy or girl, we automatically eliminated fifty percent of the names. Then it’s critically important in his mind, to see the baby first, since as everyone knows, you can’t name a baby until you see what she looks like. He also sincerely believes that names should pass the yelling-out-the-back-door test. If a yelled name didn’t sound right, he checked it off the list.

So we left the hospital without a name. I tried explaining that if we discussed names beforehand like normal people, we would be spared disapproving looks from the hospital staff who looked down their noses and advised that we take care of this as soon as possible.

I suggested Jane because she was born in June, our nurse was Jean, our doctor was John, and Joan took care of our four other children while we were at the hospital. Keith said that Jane was a one syllable name and didn’t balance out Vik. I pointed out that Keith was a one-syllable name but he said he had no control over what his parents named him.

After two days of convoluted negotiations we came up with "Anna Grace". Since Anna’s first and middle names mean the same thing, Keith gave Anna the verse, John 1: 16, which says, "And of His fullness we have all received, and grace upon grace." We liked that the faithful Anna in the New Testament immediately recognized the Messiah.

Were the doctors wrong? Did my exercise and precautions pay off? Did God do a mini-miracle?

Thankfully, my back held up fine through pregnancy and delivery. I’m sure a good diet and exercise didn’t hurt, but I believe God answered our prayers and honored our faith in His word that says children are a blessing. I’m so glad we didn’t listen to my doctors in this instance because we would have missed out on not only Anna, but Amy and Lani as well.

My back will always be weak. I’m aware of it every day. But God strengthened my damaged disc to withstand the rigors of three pregnancies. Things weren't always easy but God met all our needs and then some.

Weak back + strong faith + God’s grace = A beautiful (I'm biased) daughter.

Please leave a comment and share if you had any birth day blessings. When you trusted God and He met you in the delivery room or walked you through a hard spot. I love stories of answered prayer.

(If you'd like to comment about something else, that's okay too.)

A 17-Year-Old Object Lesson

Erica recently turned 17. Her birthday is a yearly reminder of God's faithfulness.

18 years ago we sat in a wobbly boat, hoping it wouldn't tip over.

We'd planned to wait five years before having kids so I could work and save money to put Keith through seminary. God's plan gave us three children in five years and had Keith work three jobs to pay for school and take six years to get a two year degree.

After seminary, Keith wasn't sure what he wanted to do with his life.

He had been an Aviation Ordinance Technician in the Marines and there wasn't a civilian job market for missile loaders. His undergraduate degree in Missions was useful if you're a missionary, which he wasn't. Now he had a seminary degree and our denomination didn't have pastors.

Our boat started to leak. Three months after finishing seminary, Keith developed a hernia. No, no, no - definitely not in the plan. No insurance, no savings. Aagh! We dealt with it right away so Keith could heal, get a job, and get on with life. The surgery went well and the doctor and hospital cut their fees in half and allowed us to make payments. Keith found a job and we held our breath.

Keith's surgery had not come at a good time, but it was God's time.

Two weeks later I discovered I was pregnant. Mayday, Mayday! With no insurance this was not good news. We had already crammed five people into a small two bedroom basement apartment. Was God paying attention? Clearly we weren't in a position to put another child into our crowded boat.

Discouraged and overwhelmed, I attended Ladies Bible Study with a friend. As we discussed Isaac's birth, Romans 4:20-21 jumped off the page. "Yet, with respect to the promise of God, he (Abraham) did not waver in unbelief but grew strong in faith, giving glory to God, and being fully assured that what God had promised, He was able also to perform."

Ah, so mine was not the first problem pregnancy in history. Sarah's problem was old age. Our problem was no money, no insurance, a midlife crisis, and cold deep water under our rocking boat.

I was encouraged that Abraham and Sarah didn't have health insurance and God took care of them. And even though things looked very bleak and scary, I knew God would take care of us. I wanted to grow strong in faith and give glory to God.

Pregnancy may not have come at a good time, but it was God's time.

God helped us through all the uncertainties of the next nine months. He gave us a beautiful healthy baby girl with arresting gray eyes and a full head of hair. He allowed a short calm before the next storm.

Eight weeks after Erica's birth, our boat took on more water. I badly ruptured a disc in my lower back. We finally had health insurance but we also now had four children, ages seven and under. We didn't live near either set of parents. How in the world could I go through back surgery? Who would take care of my kids?

Those verses came back to me. "He did not waver in unbelief...grew strong in faith...being assured...what God has promised, He will also perform."

Why had God heaped so many things on our plate? I didn't appreciate the crash course in character development. We wanted to serve God and instead I was confined to a mattress on the floor and unable to care for my family. Scared of swamping our boat and trying not to waver in unbelief, we prayed and trusted God.

God loved us through His people. Our wonderful church came alongside and went above and beyond the call of duty to help us through the crisis. With generosity and many kindnesses they patched our leaky boat, emptied the water, bought new provisions, and rowed for awhile until we could do it ourselves. Yes, it hurt. Yes, it was hard, but God held our hand through that difficult time.

Back surgery had not come at a good time, but it was God's time.
Matthew 14:22-33 talks about another unsteady boat. Verse 24 says the boat was battered by the waves, for the wind was contrary. Been there, done that. Peter walked on water until seeing the wind, he became frightened and began to sink. Then Peter cried out and Jesus stretched out His hand to him and said, "You of little faith, why did you doubt?" Why indeed?

Every April 23rd, I remember God's goodness and think of lessons learned in rough seas and a battered boat.
1. God's time is the right time.

2. God, who knows and loves me best, has a plan for my life.

3. His plan is always better than mine.

4. No matter how scary or overwhelming things seem, I can be assured that what God has promised He can also perform.

4. Nothing is too difficult for God. Not lack of money, lack of insurance, cramped apartments, mid-life crisis, unexpected pregnancies, or surgeries.

5. God says children are a blessing and they are. If we wait until we can afford them, we would never have them. God says He will provide and He did. Had we been more cautious and "sensible" we wouldn't have had seven children. But we're thankful for every single one and wouldn't trade any of them for all the nice cars, nice houses, and fully funded retirement accounts in the world.

When I celebrate Erica's birth, I also celebrate God's faithfulness, and know that while He never promised smooth sailing, He's promised that if we don't waver in unbelief and let Him steer the boat, we'll stay the course.

Happy Birthday, Erica - What a blessing you are.