Christmas for the Fatherless

Christmas is a wonderful family holiday, for those who have families. For those who come from broken homes it is an especially difficult time of year. I live in both of these realities, rejoicing in the time I have with my wife and children while at the same time dealing with the sadness that remains after many years of having no relationship with my parents.

I know I am not alone in this struggle, that there are thousands of others who similarly mourn. Every month in their search for understanding a few hundred of them find their way to my blog post “The Day My Dad Disowned Me.” Some of them are so wounded, so sad, that they pour out their hearts in the comments or in a private email. Their stories are heartbreaking.

One woman wrote,

“At 53 years old and being disowned as well, the pain never completely leaves. My father at 88 years old and dying still won't utter my name. I still carry a fantasy that as he is dying he will ask for me to come to him, tell me he loves me and we embrace, washing away the years of silence and pain. But this never happened. And still I search web pages "why a parent would not love one of his children" to help ease my broken heart and help me to understand.”

Another woman wrote of dealing with the death of the father she had lost years earlier-

My Dad just died yesterday.
I haven't seen him in 10 years....and 6 years ago he emailed me telling me to never contact him again.
He has been breaking my heart my entire life...and only in the past few years have I begun to make some progress in overcoming some of the heartache and not having it rule over and try to destroy my life.
Now it feels like I'm starting all over again in dealing with the pain, rejection, feelings of not being loved. If you have any books or sermons you can recommend I would greatly appreciate it.

A life spent fatherless led one woman to share these words-

I've grown up my entire life without a father. In high school when I found out, who (was told to me) was my father, I wanted a relationship. I spoke with him on phone, and asked for his help to attend college. As a naive 18 year old, I never imagined that it would cause such heartache for the rest of my life, as he denied me. To this day, I often wonder what it is like to grow up with a father.

There are many more similar stories of people hurting deeply, longing for a father’s love even as they enter middle age knowing it will never, ever come. I think of them at Christmas time and wonder what the holidays are like for them. Do they also stop and wonder if their fathers think of them? If there is any regret over casting aside their child? Have we been completely forgotten, are we nothing more than a bothersome memory they suppressed long ago?

Like me do they still wonder, “Why?”

For me, and for most of those like me, complete answers will never come. The only answer I have is that my father is a sick and damaged man who is incapable of love. The only choice I have is to be the best parent I can be and to love the family I have with all my heart, all year round, and to pray that God in His mercy will redeem the heart and soul of my father.

At Christmas I focus on another Father and another Son. I am grateful for the Father that sent His Son into my world so I could enter into relationship with Him. This Father will never leave me or forsake me for He loves me with an everlasting love.

-          Bart

Thanks for reading, and for taking a moment to pray for those who are hurting at Christmas. Thanks to all who have shared blog posts with others, it is the only way awareness of the blog grows. Your comments and questions are always welcome.

Merry Christmas

7 Minutes to save a Life- an Amazing Childbirth Story

Lots of things can go wrong in a delivery, but none are more frightening than stuck shoulders. When the shoulders are larger than the head they can wedge behind the pubic bone after the head emerges. The baby is truly stuck- unable to come out and nearly impossible to push back in. The umbilical cord is pinched and with it all of the baby's oxygen. If the baby is not freed within just seven minutes, brain damage occurs. It is truly a race against time.

In 17 years of delivering babies I encountered the problem less than twenty times. I remember many of them. The worst was about 15 years ago, and it was a surprise.

The mom was petite, only 4 feet 9 inches tall. Dad was over 6 feet tall but I was not concerned about the baby being too large as this was their second child and her previous delivery of a 6 pound baby had been uneventful. I was anticipating a perfect little 7 pounder. Nothing about her labor raised any concern, as dilation progressed at a normal rate and the baby's descent was smooth as well.

When the time came I prepared for the moment of delivery by going through my pre-delivery checklist. I arranged the instruments on the delivery table, making sure everything was in its proper place and readily accessible. While I did so I went through my mental checklist, rehearsing in my mind protocols for any emergencies that might arise. It did not matter that things were going well, I had been taught to prepare as if every delivery was an emergency waiting to happen.

As part of my routine I paused and gave my "just in case the shoulders get stuck" instructions to those in the room. I pointedly told the father and the nurse that if I said, "Legs up!" they were to put a hand behind the Mother's knees and pull them up to her arm pits. I then reminded the nurse that if the shoulders were stuck to be prepared to push down hard just behind the mom's pubic bone to try to free the shoulder. These instructions were typically unnecessary (I had no reason to think they were going to be needed this time) but it never hurt to be ready.

A few minutes later the head emerged, and then, it stopped, as if it had been partially sucked back in. I instantly recognized the sign- the shoulders were stuck, badly. I took a deep breath as I realized the seven minute clock had started.

In my calmest voice I spoke to the dad and nurse, "Legs up!" They quickly complied, sensing my urgency. I applied downward traction on the baby's head. It did not move. At least 30 seconds were gone.

"Suprapubic pressure!" I called to nurse. As the top shoulder was stuck behind the pubic bone, pushing down hard might help it slide under the bone and come free. The nurse literally climbed on the bed, balled her fist and pushed down with all her might while I continued to pull the head down toward the floor. I pulled as hard as I dared, for pulling too hard could tear the nerves in the neck and result in paralysis of the arm. Still no movement at all. About 90 seconds were gone. This was now the worst case of shoulder dystocia I had ever encountered. My remaining efforts to free the baby would be ones I had only read about or discussed, techniques I had never performed before. (gulp!)

Next up was the corkscrew maneuver, where the doctor inserts a hand into the vagina behind the baby's head, sliding it behind the upper shoulder. The doctor then pushes as hard as he can to try and turn the baby sideways in an effort to free the shoulder. If this failed I would need to take scissors and make the opening as large as I could, reach inside and try to deliver one of the baby's arms. If that didn't work, I would have to attempt to intentionally break the collarbone before trying the final step, which would be to try and shove the baby back inside until an emergency c-section could be performed, a desperate act that almost never worked.

I began the corkscrew maneuver, inserting my left hand in behind the baby's head, working it behind the shoulder. I pushed hard. Nothing. I repositioned my hand and pushed again, the baby did not turn at all. I took a breath and pushed as hard as I could...I felt movement! The top shoulder gave way suddenly, the baby turned and was free! It was out in seconds! I took the baby in my arms, cut and clamped the cord and handed him to the nurse. I looked at the clock- there were about 3 minutes to spare.

As the nurse examined the baby we saw why the shoulders had gotten stuck and how they had gotten free. The 4 foot 9 inch mom had just delivered a 9 pound 6 ounce baby! A baby who had also had a fracture of his left collarbone. We had gotten "lucky." The clavicle had snapped during the corkscrew maneuver, narrowing the shoulders just enough to free the baby.

When it was over, I sat and thought about the case, grateful for the training that had led me to diligently prepare for just that scenario, the training that caused me to review those techniques before every delivery. Although I ended up performing techniques I had never done, being prepared had saved the baby's life.

When I think about being prepared for a delivery, I think about all that Mary and Joseph had to face. They knew a baby was coming and they knew it would be difficult. People would talk about the circumstances of the conception, accuse them of immorality and question Jesus' heritage. I think that without preparation the task before them would have been nearly impossible. As it was it was surely very difficult to be young and under such scrutiny.

But God prepared them, giving them signs and dreams before the birth, and then allowing them to hear the stories of the shepherds, the blessings of Anna and Simeon when Jesus was presented at the temple, and later by the words of the wise men from the East. All of these events confirmed the promise of God, providing a foundation of faith and preparing them for what was to come. Preparation that made a difference.

- Bart

This is the fifth in a series of 6 Amazing Childbirth Stories, leading up to the most amazing childbirth story, the birth of Jesus. (for the other stories click here, here, here, or here). To get future posts and stories, sign up to receive blog posts via email via the button below my photo on the right. Finally-If you enjoyed this post or the blog, please share it with a friend!

14 year-old mom survives a delivery room emergency- An Amazing Childbirth Story

The young mother was not at all prepared for what was about to happen to her. Unfortunately, neither were her doctors.

It was my first time in the delivery room at the University Hospital. The doctor “training” me was an intern with 3 weeks experience. Our combined knowledge and experience would have filled a page and a half in a medical textbook. But there we were, attending the delivery of a 14 year old girl. That is not a typo. The mom had gotten pregnant as an 8th grader. She was from Mexico and spoke no English at all.

The birth of the baby was routine, and the intern performed the delivery of the baby without any difficulty. The umbilical cord was quickly cut and clamped and the baby handed off to the nurse.

The intern then turned to me, “Want to deliver the placenta?” It wasn't a hugely difficult medical procedure, but third year medical students take what they can get.

“Sure!”

I switched positions with the intern and grabbed hold of the clamped umbilical cord. I gently pulled downward. Nothing happened. I continued to pull for a few minutes. Seeing no progress, the intern instructed, “Pull harder.” So I did. Still no progress. The intern repeated the instruction. A few minutes more, still no progress. I thought I as pulling pretty hard, but according to the intern I wasn't as she instructed me to increase the downward traction even more.

Finally the amount of visible cord began to lengthen, indicating the placenta was on its way out. But what appeared between the mother's legs did not look to me like a placenta at all. It was big and round and purple, with lots of veins. It looked like a martian head. (If martian heads actually existed and came out in delivery rooms!)

“Oh my God! What is that?” exclaimed the intern who was watching me. As she verbalized the question the answer came to me, the words came out of my mouth simultaneously with the realization of what it was-

“It's the whole d--- uterus!”, I said as quietly as I could.

I had pulled the cord so hard that the girl's uterus had turned inside out and come out with the placenta still attached. The uterus was now located outside of her body. I lacked experience, but I was pretty sure that this was NOT a good thing. (I later learned how bad it actually was. If the placenta detached while the uterus was out, the uterus could not contract down to stop the bleeding and the mother could bleed to death. If the uterus contracted with the placenta still attached, it would take a lot of medication and skill to safely put it back. It was a race against time.)

“What do we do now?” I whispered.

“I don't know!” was the intern's non- reassuring reply.

The nurse, who actually had experience, reacted quickly and called for the senior doctor on the OB unit. The doctor arrived quickly, and surprised me by rapidly pushing the intern aside. She then used her balled fist to forcefully shove the uterus back inside. I vividly remember repeatedly seeing the outline of the doctor's fist through the mother's abdomen as the doctor worked to make certain that the entire uterus had completely returned to its correct position, and would stay there.

I also remember wondering- what is this young mother thinking? She was alone. There were no family members with her in the room. She was in a foreign place surrounded by doctors and students she did not know, speaking a language she did not understand. She had to have felt significant pain given the pounding pressure of the doctor's hand inside her body, and she did not even know why. Things happened so quickly no one had taken the time to explain. And- she was only 14 years old.

14 years old... about the same age that Mary was when she gave birth to Jesus. We have sanitized the Christmas story and ignored the pain of childbirth, the bleeding after the placenta released, the cramping that came as she nursed her baby, and the vulnerability of that young family. Mary was in an unfamiliar city, alone except for Joseph, her young husband. Shortly after the birth shepherds arrived, strangers intruding on her first moments with her son, relating an incredible story of an angelic announcement. What was Mary thinking?

The story of the young girl in the delivery room reminds me that Mary's experience was not all halos and choirs. Childbirth, especially to a young woman in a strange place, can be a frightening experience!

- Bart

This is the 4th of Six Amazing childbirth stories. you can read the previous ones in our archives, and subscribe to the blog to have coming posts delivered straight to your inbox. 

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The Baby is Healthy, but the Doctor Needs Surgery- An Amazing Childbirth Story

Moments before delivery, the concerned mom paused to ask the doctor, "Are you okay?"

Very few woman choose natural childbirth, mostly because it hurts really bad and epidural pain relief is safe and effective. This patient was the exception. She was determined to deliver her baby naturally, no medications at all. As a result during labor she could move and position herself as she pleased.

When it came time to begin pushing, she asked the nurse if she could squat at the end of the bed so she could push more effectively. The nurse and I found a "squat bar," attached it to the bed and helped her position herself for the final stages of labor.

Between contractions she rested, and then with each labor pain she lowered herself into a deep squat, hung on to the bar and pushed, her lower half a few feet off of the floor. While this was an effective pushing position it made it difficult for me to monitor her progress! I needed to kneel to perform an exam. When I thought the moment of birth was near, I again squatted down to check the baby's head position as she pushed.

As I settled into the squat, I suddenly felt searing pain as the reconstructed anterior cruciate ligament in my left knee exploded, my leg buckled and gave way beneath me. I felt myself falling and, almost in slow motion, I stumbled forward. In a panic I reached out my hand and grabbed the delivery table to catch myself, stopping my face mere inches from experiencing an embarrassing head on collision with the baby. (Not sure how I would have explained that to the dad!). The baby's head was "crowning" meaning the top the head was just emerging and delivery was moments away!

I gathered myself, balancing on my good leg. Pain had drained color from my face and I felt droplets of cold sweat appear on my forehead. The contraction ended and the mother looked at me with a concerned look on her face and asked, "Doctor, are you okay?" I wasn't, but it didn't matter. It was time.

I turned to the nurse, "Can you check and see if there are any other doctors on the floor?" I was not sure I could complete the delivery. The nurse picked up the phone and called the nurse's station. She turned back to me, shaking her head, "No one is here but you."

I took a deep breath and replied, "I think I am going to need a stool!"

The nurse wheeled a stool over and lowered the bed so I could be seated while the baby was born. Within a few minutes the baby arrived, fortunately without any difficulty or complications. Once I was sure mom and baby were fine, I hobbled out of the room. Leaving behind a happy family and a memorable story!

I was not at my best, but I was the only doctor available. There were no other options. It was an “Apollo 13” moment, failure was not an option!

I wonder if maybe Mary's husband Joseph didn't feel similarly incapable the night Jesus was born. Young, inexperienced and alone, there were no other options available. A teen-aged mother and a young man had no choice but to trust God and do their best.

Isn't that life in a nutshell? So many times we find ourselves in challenging circumstances, overwhelmed and seemingly alone. In those moments trusting God is so crucial. We must do the best we can, knowing that the God who "delivers" will "deliver" us again.

- Bart

This post was originally published 2 years ago, I share it again this Christmas in the hope that it will give perspective as we approach again the season of the year in which the Savior was born. Feel free to share it with others, or offer comments below.

When People Don't Matter, Opinions are Worthless

People are more important than their opinions and their value is independent of what they think.

This is a basic truth founded in the teachings of many of the world’s religions. It is foundational for Jewish and Christian faith, both of which have the command to “love your neighbor as yourself” as one of their essential tenets. It was once commonly taught to American children, accepted as true even by those who denied the existence of the supernatural. Those days are gone. It seems a large portion of the population believes it is perfectly acceptable, even desirable, to berate and demean those with whom they disagree.

Consider actor Seth Rogen’s recent assessment of neurosurgeon turned Presidential candidate Ben Carson. Dr. Carson, while making the reasonable assertion that an armed citizenry is better able to resist tyranny, made a questionable assertion that Hitler may have not been able to murder so many innocents if the population had been disarmed. Instead of challenging the doctor’s historical perspective by pointing out the widespread popularity of Hitler in 1930-40’s Germany, Mr. Rogen simply tweeted “F--- You @realbencarson.”

I observed a similarly demeaning tweet in response to those who oppose new gun control legislation. John Marshall of the website TalkingPointsMemo, commenting on those who favor gun rights wrote, “Amazing that w/2 new school shootings today, Obama greeted in Oregon by pro-Massacre activists.” To Mr. Marshall, the opinions espoused by those with whom he disagreed did not just make them confused or wrong or misinformed, it made them in favor of mass murder.

The dehumanizing insults are everywhere, a common feature of modern political discourse. Few attempt to engage or be engaged as it is easier to call someone an idiot, a misogynist, a bigot, a thief, or a racist than it is to dialogue and understand.

This modern tendency is not just worrisome, it is dangerous. When we dehumanize people, we make their lives mean less. The journey from devaluing a person to harming a person is not a long one. It is time for all of us to take a step back and ask ourselves what our true values are. When our opinions and political views are more important than people we have lost sight of that which matters most in life. When this is lost, our opinions don’t matter anymore.

- Bart

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