This weekend we celebrate my youngest daughter’s birthday. It is hard to believe Abby is seven years old. When she was born I was writing for the Northport Gazette, a weekly newspaper. They asked me to write my reflections for a feature, which was published Aug. 22, 2002. I dug out the old papers and found the article to read to Abby and the rest of the family yesterday. I thought I would pass it along to you.
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Baby Abigail Makes Nine for the Allisons
My family is this week celebrating the birth of our newest child, Abigail Faith. We call her Abby. She was born Wednesday, Aug. 14, and joins eight brothers and sisters in our household. Both Abby and her mama, Ms. Joy, are doing great.
Abby is good at perfect timing. I had been working all day Wednesday in Birmingham and wondering if I would make it back in time if I got “the call.” I went directly to our church from work because I was scheduled to preach in the midweek service. I got there about 6:30. As I was getting out of the car my oldest son, Joshua, came barreling up to the church in his truck to tell me that Mama needed me at home right then. I told him to go in and tell our pastor, Charles Herron, that something had come up and I would not be preaching that night.
Ms. Joy had gotten the children ready for church and they were climbing into the van to head that way when her water broke. She said she heard a pop and felt a strange sensation that led her to believe the time was at hand. She raced out the door and yelled -- to the kids in the van and to the rest of the neighborhood --“Stop! My water broke!” She then told Joshua to go find me at church. I had my cell phone, but she didn’t think to call me on it. All she could think to do was to tell Joshua to find me. I guess she had something else on her mind.
When I got home I found Ms. Joy fixing her hair. Eight times before she had given birth with her hair combed just right and she wasn’t about to change that with Number Nine. We’ve always gotten a chuckle out of Ms. Joy’s need to make sure her hair is just right before having a baby. She asked me to call the doctor and tell them we were coming while she finished styling. It was a little disconcerting to have an answering machine answer the phone, tell me the office was closed, and put me on hold to listen to “soothing” music while an operator would come to the phone at any moment to take my important phone call. After five minutes I was still listening to Muzak’s greatest hits. Ms. Joy tried after she got her hair done, and after a little more music she finally got through.
Then it was off to the races. Or I should say, the hospital. The contractions began in the car as I finessed my way through red traffic lights. I discovered that with a little practice, I, too, could become a fire truck or ambulance driver. Luckily there was no policeman in sight. I’m sure I would have been able to talk my way out of a ticket, seeing that my wife was in labor, but I’m glad I didn’t have to.
When we got to the hospital at just after 7:00 the labor was beginning in earnest. We had to convince the nurse that labor was in fact in process and that we needed a room right way. The nurse wanted us to go into a room they call triage at first, so they could check things out. But when we explained that this was Number Nine and there may not be time for that she got with the program and fixed us up right away.
The next 30 minutes was a flurry of activity as nurses and attendants came out of the woodwork to set up equipment and get things ready. As is her labor custom Ms. Joy paced the floor and groaned when contractions came. All the while she was cool and collected, and carried on casual friendly conversation with the nurses, who had not really gotten over the fact that this was Number Nine.
Another pleasant hour passed. The lady doctor came in and introduced herself, and told me she would allow me to catch the baby as it came. I had caught the previous three in home births and had made a deal with the doctors to let me catch this time if we would use their hospital. The bribe worked, the primary doctor had written it in the file. I was set to deliver, standing next to the doctor.
Little Abby came at 8:34. I was there, decked out in hospital gown and rubber gloves, to receive her with open arms. There can be no greater thrill for a father than to take such an active part in the birth of his child, to receive her into the world, and be the first one to hold and hug her.
The doctor more than once said what a good job I had done, catching that baby. It was as if she was amazed. I guess she didn’t realize I had done it a few times before. I guess also, that it didn’t occur to her at that moment that it doesn’t take a medical degree to love the children God gives you and welcome them home.
Abigail Faith could have rushed things up, insisted on coming earlier in the day. If she had I would have missed the whole thing, because there would not have been time to get home. But she was patient, and came only when Daddy could be there. And Daddy was there, waiting with open arms.
I am so glad Abby has a good sense of timing.
* * *
Baby Abigail Makes Nine for the Allisons
My family is this week celebrating the birth of our newest child, Abigail Faith. We call her Abby. She was born Wednesday, Aug. 14, and joins eight brothers and sisters in our household. Both Abby and her mama, Ms. Joy, are doing great.
Abby is good at perfect timing. I had been working all day Wednesday in Birmingham and wondering if I would make it back in time if I got “the call.” I went directly to our church from work because I was scheduled to preach in the midweek service. I got there about 6:30. As I was getting out of the car my oldest son, Joshua, came barreling up to the church in his truck to tell me that Mama needed me at home right then. I told him to go in and tell our pastor, Charles Herron, that something had come up and I would not be preaching that night.
Ms. Joy had gotten the children ready for church and they were climbing into the van to head that way when her water broke. She said she heard a pop and felt a strange sensation that led her to believe the time was at hand. She raced out the door and yelled -- to the kids in the van and to the rest of the neighborhood --“Stop! My water broke!” She then told Joshua to go find me at church. I had my cell phone, but she didn’t think to call me on it. All she could think to do was to tell Joshua to find me. I guess she had something else on her mind.
When I got home I found Ms. Joy fixing her hair. Eight times before she had given birth with her hair combed just right and she wasn’t about to change that with Number Nine. We’ve always gotten a chuckle out of Ms. Joy’s need to make sure her hair is just right before having a baby. She asked me to call the doctor and tell them we were coming while she finished styling. It was a little disconcerting to have an answering machine answer the phone, tell me the office was closed, and put me on hold to listen to “soothing” music while an operator would come to the phone at any moment to take my important phone call. After five minutes I was still listening to Muzak’s greatest hits. Ms. Joy tried after she got her hair done, and after a little more music she finally got through.
Then it was off to the races. Or I should say, the hospital. The contractions began in the car as I finessed my way through red traffic lights. I discovered that with a little practice, I, too, could become a fire truck or ambulance driver. Luckily there was no policeman in sight. I’m sure I would have been able to talk my way out of a ticket, seeing that my wife was in labor, but I’m glad I didn’t have to.
When we got to the hospital at just after 7:00 the labor was beginning in earnest. We had to convince the nurse that labor was in fact in process and that we needed a room right way. The nurse wanted us to go into a room they call triage at first, so they could check things out. But when we explained that this was Number Nine and there may not be time for that she got with the program and fixed us up right away.
The next 30 minutes was a flurry of activity as nurses and attendants came out of the woodwork to set up equipment and get things ready. As is her labor custom Ms. Joy paced the floor and groaned when contractions came. All the while she was cool and collected, and carried on casual friendly conversation with the nurses, who had not really gotten over the fact that this was Number Nine.
Another pleasant hour passed. The lady doctor came in and introduced herself, and told me she would allow me to catch the baby as it came. I had caught the previous three in home births and had made a deal with the doctors to let me catch this time if we would use their hospital. The bribe worked, the primary doctor had written it in the file. I was set to deliver, standing next to the doctor.
Little Abby came at 8:34. I was there, decked out in hospital gown and rubber gloves, to receive her with open arms. There can be no greater thrill for a father than to take such an active part in the birth of his child, to receive her into the world, and be the first one to hold and hug her.
The doctor more than once said what a good job I had done, catching that baby. It was as if she was amazed. I guess she didn’t realize I had done it a few times before. I guess also, that it didn’t occur to her at that moment that it doesn’t take a medical degree to love the children God gives you and welcome them home.
Abigail Faith could have rushed things up, insisted on coming earlier in the day. If she had I would have missed the whole thing, because there would not have been time to get home. But she was patient, and came only when Daddy could be there. And Daddy was there, waiting with open arms.
I am so glad Abby has a good sense of timing.
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