First Bath

All the mundane things of life are exciting when you're a baby and have never done them before.

Here is Victor's first real bath. He met the endeavor quite serenely, until we took him out of the water. (Brr)






(And I love that belly...)

The Name Albert

Choosing a middle name for Victor was a lengthy decision. For months, Ben and I had been talking about options, and we were generally narrowed down to two favorites... but it was over a day after Victor was born before we really landed.

Albert.



My mom's dad was Albert Vaupel. He was a farmer (raising corn and soybeans and beef cattle) with hard, leather-like hands and a tender heart. Growing up, I loved visiting my grandparents' farm--climbing the hay bales, playing with the kittens (if we could catch them), and helping Grandpa with chores.

Grandpa had a bald head and round face that broke easily into a smile. I picture him in well-worn overalls with a cap on his head (so it wouldn't get sunburned). He was a hard worker--up in the morning at an unimaginably early hour to start chores, and busy all day until he sat down in the recliner after supper and nodded to sleep with Wheel of Fortune playing in the background.



He slathered his bread with butter and dunked his cinnamon rolls in his coffee and saved all the scraps from the meal to feed the many untamed cats who patrolled his barns for mice.

He could make friends with anyone. For being a pretty soft-spoken man, he loved meeting people--at the roller skating rink or on mystery trips sponsored by the bank. He wore a pressed, button-down shirt to church and trusted Jesus with his whole heart.



He was married to Grandma for 63 years when he died in 2006. They still held hands when they walked together down the gravel road near the farm.

Humble. Diligent. Kind. Generous. Patient. Hard-working. Happy.

Victor Albert, your great-grandpa was a special man. I pray you grow to be like him in character and follow his God with all your heart.

Happy Birthday, Ezra!

Well-Knit

Sometimes I just look down at Victor, sleeping. I still can't believe that this little, perfectly-formed baby is ours.

I remember being so sick at the beginning of the pregnancy; I would puke up everything I ate for a whole day, and then eat some broth the next day, and slowly work my way up to real food again. I worried a little about how the baby would get the nourishment he needed--but there wasn't anything I could do about it.

The knitting of a baby is God's work. And now, to look at Victor, I just marvel at the work He did.









For you formed my inward parts; You wove me in my mother's womb. I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are Your works, and my soul knows it very well.--Psalm 139:13-14

The Name Victor

Ben and I were driving somewhere, discussing baby names early last year—before we were pregnant. Victor. We both liked it, and we both liked the association to a very special young man at the South Site. Almost immediately, it became a top choice boy’s name.



We knew Victor Manuel Watters as the adopted son of Mike and Deb Watters, and the story of his life is a trophy of God’s grace. Victor was 9 when the Watters family encountered him at St. Paul’s Children’s Hospital. The Watters were bringing their daughter Corrine in for treatment of Ewing’s sarcoma, a rare form of cancer, and Victor—a ward of the state—was in a nearby room receiving treatment for the exact same kind of cancer.

By God’s providence, the Watters family was able to adopt Victor, and when he joined their family, he also became a part of Bethlehem’s South Site. God did a wonderful work in his heart, and he was part of a video not long after, recounting the story of how he trusted in Jesus as his Savior. We loved seeing him serve as an usher every week, handing out bulletins and passing the offering baskets with a big smile.

The battle with cancer was not over, though. Throughout last year, as I struggled through some hard months of pregnancy with our own Victor, we prayed and waited as Victor Watters’s prognosis, medically-speaking, grew more and more grave. As the cancer spread, family and friends gathered to say good-bye, and we saw evidence of an amazing grace at work in his heart. Even struggling for breath, he wanted to share verses and the gospel with all those who came.

Finally, on Wednesday, September 7, 2011, Victor Manuel Watters finished his race.

His funeral service was on September 11, 2011, my 30th birthday.

Ben was honored to read a Scripture passage in the service, while I watched from the balcony, feeling the little stirrings of our Victor in my belly and weeping with both joy and heartache.

The passage that Ben read was 1 Corinthians 15:50-58—the passage which also describes the second and bigger reason that we wanted to name our son Victor, after the Great Victor over sin and death:

When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written:

“Death is swallowed up in victory.”
“O death, where is your victory?
O death, where is your sting?”

The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ (54-57).

May your life shine with the grace of that victory, purchased for you by Jesus, little guy.

Sleepless Nights

Generally speaking, Victor has proven to be a pretty mellow baby so far. He's generally gone for about 3 hour stretches between feedings at night, and most times drops off to sleep after eating without much trouble.

Last night, however, was a different story. I don't know if it was something I ate or just a delicate infant digestive system, but Victor spit up everything he ate and would not settle all night.

I think I slept from about 2:30-3:30 and from 4:20-4:50. But I marked the rest of the night lying in bed, hearing Victor fuss, getting up to re-swaddle him and shift him to a clean spot in the crib, trying to feed him (with liberal milk baths throughout), change his diaper, try his pacifier, and just look helplessly down at him in his crib.

Having a baby breaks the illusion of having control over my life. I cannot fix his tummy troubles. I cannot make him eat or sleep. I still have a pervasive sense of "am I doing this right?" I am still often groping to decipher his actions and reactions.

I read Psalm 9 this morning and remembered learning vs. 10 as a Fighter Verse:

And those who know Your name will put their hope in You, for You, O LORD, have not forsaken those who seek You.

If we know who God is, we'll trust Him. He knit us all together. He gave us this child. He certainly is aware of the gastrointestinal challenges and sleep-deprivation. And He won't leave us to our own resources--He doesn't forsake those who seek Him.

It's good to have an anchor like that, heading into the days--and nights--of unknown ahead.

Answered Prayers

Having a new baby makes life a combination of very, very quiet and very, very busy.

I've had many opportunities to muse on God's faithfulness through labor and delivery of Victor. But not so much time to sit down and put my thoughts into words. So here is a brief attempt to recount some of the mercies God showed us:

* Such kind nurses. Beth and Jenny (the night before induction), Lacey and Melissa (who walked through the whole, long day of labor with me), the kind nurse--whose name I don't recall (who kept me from fainting and falling off the commode and then ordered me some high-powered pain killers), Grace and Susie (the sweet and sagacious NICU nurses who loved on our little newborn boy and helped me get started breastfeeding)

* Perfect timing of epidural. Going into labor, I was inclined to try to go through the process without meds if possible. The first 9 hours of labor were challenging, but I felt strengthened to breath through the contractions and press on. But when the nurse said I had only progressed to a possible 2cm dilation, I was so discouraged. Our nurse Melissa said the doctor would probably either commence with a C-section or give an option for an epidural and give it a couple hours to see if things would move along. Ben and I (and my parents in the waiting room, and the people we texted) were praying fervently that the next check would show significant progress. At 8pm our nurse Melissa examined me, and the 3 of us all just about whooped and hollered when she found I had dilated to 4cm!

* Baby didn't cry right away. When the doctor broke my water, she saw thick meconium in the amniotic fluid. That meant that Victor may well have ingested it, and if it wasn't suctioned out immediately upon birth, he could develop pneumonia or other respiratory problems. The doctor ordered the NICU team to be present for delivery--but they didn't arrive in time. But in God's perfect provision, Victor wasn't crying when he was born, and the doctor was able to quickly suction his airway before he gave his first wails.

* NICU stay, but no infection. During labor, I started getting an elevated temperature, and my blood pressure dropped, while Victor's blood rate increased. This automatically qualified as potential chorio infection, and I started getting IV antibiotics immediately--and Victor earned a spot in NICU for treatment of antibiotics and a culture to see if he had gotten the infection. The culture came back negative (after 48 hours), and the tender, loving care he got at NICU, plus the extra help for Ben and me in learning how to care for him were such a gift.




I know there were more mercies at work, but those are a few highlights that come to mind. Thank You, Lord.

Such a Miracle

Pictures, in no particular order:

Receiving the Gift of Victor Albert Katterson

Composed mostly by Ben:

Victor Albert Katterson was born at 1:29am on Friday the 6th of January. He was 6 pounds 11 ounces and 20 and 3/8 inches long.

A fairly routine ultra sound appointment on Wednesday afternoon (4th) turned into an excited trip home for bags to take to the hospital. We learned that our little boys growth was fine, but his amniotic fluid was low (5cm is low and he had 3cm). It was time to induce. We spent that night in the hospital with medication to prepare Amy for the inducing medication in the morning. At 8:30am on Thursday they broke her water. There was miconium in the amniotic fluid. The doctor said we would need to have the NICU (Newborn Intensive Care Unit) present at birth to suction the baby’s air ways immediately. The doctor said most babies come out crying in which case the NICU team can’t suction which puts the baby at greater risk of pneumonia. We started praying for the Lord to protect our (his) baby.

We started the pitocin and the contractions intensified throughout the day. Amy was terrific. WHAT A TROOPER!!! At the beginning of the day on Thursday Amy was dilated to about 1cm. After a full morning and afternoon of quit intense labor she was barely at 2cm. (Before this 2cm check, Mom and Dad Anderson arrived and supported us through the long hours with Subway sandwiches, root-beer, and prayer.) Amy’s energy was wearing thin. At about 6pm we decided to try an epidural. The doctor said if Amy’s dilation was not significantly increased in two hours we would need to proceed to a c-section. Both Amy and I wanted to avoid a c-section, but were trusting in the Lord and His good providence (and praying HARD). The epidural took the pain away and helped her to relax. However, it also made her vomit, feel light-headed, and it made her blood pressure drop. She received four doses of blood pressure medication through the IV. At the same time she began to run a low grade fever. While Amy had a fever, the baby’s heart rate was rising. The nurses quickly diagnosed an infection and began to run antibiotics through the IV as well. The diagnosis meant that the baby would immediately go to NICU after birth for his own antibiotic treatment for 48 hours.

At 8pm the nurse checked Amy’s status and found she had dilated to 4cm. There was nearly whooping and hollering. By 10:45pm she was 7.5, 11:45 was full dilation. We began pushing at 12:30. Progress was coming so quickly that we slowed down to wait for the doctor to arrive. At 1:29am baby Victor arrived before (before the NICU team could get there). He was not crying so the doctor was able to suction his airways herself (Hallelulah!). He cried soon after and the NICU team descended on the scene like the U.S. Marines. Before they whisked him away Amy got to hold him, and Ben got to cut the cord. Ben accompanied the NICU team and Victor down to the first floor for his first bedtime. Meanwhile, Amy threw up a glass of water. When she tried to get out of the bed and use the bathroom she nearly fainted and her blood pressure dropped again. She was wheeled on a gurney to Victor’s bedside for a quick visit. At about 5am Ben and Amy crashed for a LONG night of 2 hours sleep.

Friday was filled with wheelchair rides from the 4th floor (Labor and Delivery) to the 1st floor (NICU) for feeding and visits with naps squeezed in where possible.

We know so many people have been praying for us and our new son. Both mom and son (and sometimes dad) are doing well and recovering by the grace of the Lord.

A Note from Amy:
This experience of God’s giving us a son has been so full of challenge and joy and answered prayer. I wish that I were able to talk with so many of you in person to share the story, thank you for your care, and rejoice together with you—but I have been much more depleted and slow to bounce back than I expected… I know that we will have many days ahead to introduce Victor to you all, and until then, just know how much we love you and thank the Lord for your support! I also want to publicly thank the Lord for my husband who has been an awesome, God-sent gift and minister of grace to me and to our son already. I love you, Benjamin, and God’s help to me through you has been a rock to me already.

Waiting

This Friday is my due date. I remember at the very beginning of the pregnancy, when I attended an informational class at my ob/gyn office, the instructor told us all that we should add a week and a half to our anticipated due date, and just start telling people that is when the baby is coming.

So, very realistically, it still may be 2 weeks before this child arrives.

We feel mostly ready.

The list of supplies has come together:

• Crib- check
• Changing table- check
• Car seat- check
• Diaper bag- check
• Bags for the hospital- check
• Little, tiny onesies that look too small even to be doll clothes- check

My mom and grandma sewed a beautiful quilt for the baby room. So many people have given gifts: diapers, lotion, noise machine, lamp, fuzzy sweatshirts, socks, toys, books, blankets, wipes…

It’s remarkable that after 9 months of waiting, puking, shopping, reading, taking classes, praying, and making preparations we feel just about ready to launch fully into the adventure of parenting.

But when will we? Like the return of the Lord, only God knows the day and the hour. And as prepared as we may feel, there is a definite reason for each additional day that He gives us before this little boy comes.

Perhaps we need another verse to hang onto, to bolster our strength and renew our hope.

Perhaps another conversation about how we’re going to face this new season together.

Perhaps a chance to file the huge pile of papers on the dresser (but then again, it’s waited this long!)

Perhaps another person to intercede for the birth of this baby.

Perhaps a few more projects at work.

Perhaps another nap and lovely, long night of sleep.

I don’t want the waiting to turn to chaffing, to doubting, to frustration.

As a friend wrote in an email yesterday, we’re trusting the Lord to choose the perfect birthday for our son.

Wait for the LORD. Be strong, and let your heart take courage, and wait for the LORD (Psalm 27:4).