Happy Birthday, Little Man!

Monday was Jackson's 2 month birthday. I don't usually celebrate such landmarks. In fact, I sometimes forget the yearly birthdays of family members, let alone friends. But Monday was one remarkable day.

It started with a visit to the pediatrician. Jackson's gone from his birth weight of 6 lb, 4 oz to 10 lb, 8 oz. That takes him from the 10th percentile to the 25th. We have a good eater. His "height" (if you still call it that while they're still vertical) went from 18.5" to 22". He's stayed in the 10th percentile, but the pediatrician said she's not worried about his height considering his parental height. And she was impressed with his developmental landmarks. He can hold his head up quite well and has turned over from belly to back 5 times. We swear the little sounds that come out when he smiles are signs of laughter. Ian and I are convinced that he is (in the words of the proud mama of Zane and Audrey) quite "advanced."

After the pediatrician, Jackson and I went to visit our friend McCall, who is expecting one of Jackson's future girlfriends any day now. It was fun to compare pregnancy notes and to hear that baby Harper does a lot of the same things Jackson did when he was in my womb. I'll have to blog about that some other time.

Then that evening, Jackson slept from midnight to 7:00 AM. That means Ian got 7 hours of sleep. Me, I woke up at 5:00 AM expecting to feed him. Instead I was elated that he didn't need to be fed, and bummed that I had wasted a possible 7 hour stretch of sleep by getting up. FYI, I think he was teasing us that night. He's since gone back to waking up at 4:00 AM and resisting going back to sleep.

Overall, I'm absolutely amazed at how fast babies develop. Just over 2 months ago, he existed in a waterly world, with an umbilical lifeline to feed him 24/7. Now he knows when he's hungry and knows how to alert us of the fact. He can interact with us after living almost 5 times as long quite happily in isolation. Since he's no longer the eating, sleeping, pooping creature that he was when he was first born, I am amazed at how he's becoming a little person. And I am amazed at the signs he demonstrates of what kind of person he will be. It's utterly fascinating to me that this little person came from one cell that I contributed and one cell that Ian contributed. All testifying to the amazing abilities of the Creator!

Clarice

I'm Popeye

Just like his Eyre cousins, Jackson has a blocked tear duct, resulting in the worst eye poop imaginable. We have to clean his eyes every couple of hours. He also has long eyelashes, which trap the eye poop and paste his poor little eye shut. But it sure has a cute result, doesn't it?


Clarice

First Pair of Pants

Jackson's outgrowing his newborn sleepers. So we washed some of the pants we had received at his baby shower (thanks, Aunt Sharon and Aunt Helen and anyone else I may have forgotten!!). Apparently, there are waistline issues when you have to pull pants over diapers. We thought this was rather entertaining. He looks like a little old man with his bald head and his pants pulled up so high.


Clarice

Easter Thoughts

I was reading Hebrews chapter 12 yesterday and stopped to consider verse 4, "You have not yet resisted to the point of shedding blood in your striving against sin" (NASB). Have I ever struggled so hard to defeat sin in my life that I bled? Not even close! In fact, I can’t imagine that it would be possible for me to stress that much, although it is medically possible to sweat blood under extreme circumstances. Did the author of Hebrews have first hand knowledge of striving against sin to the point of bleeding? What could this mean?

Then I remembered a passage where Jesus bled. I re-read Luke 22:39-46, where Jesus prayed before His crucifixion, asking God to “remove this cup from Me; yet not My will, but Thine be done” (verse 42). Verse 44 says; "And being in agony He was praying very fervently; and His sweat became like drops of blood, falling down to the ground." I always thought Jesus sweated blood because He was not looking forward to receiving God’s wrath for my sin and all the sins of all the people of the world. That, to me, was a stressful enough circumstance for a person to sweat blood and I’m sure that was part of it. But, the context of the passage is Jesus warning His disciples to pray against temptation. Reminds me of 1 Corinthians 10:13, “No temptation has overtaken you but such as is common to man; and God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will provide the way of escape also, that you may be able to endure it.”

The connection I made between Hebrews 12:2 and Luke 22:44 is that Jesus was also praying against His own temptation. The temptation to quit the calling the Father had given Him - to suffer and die for us that we might have access to His righteousness and therefore His heaven, among many other blessings. In verse 43 an angel strengthens Him. He could have asked God to send angels to save him from the coming death, but this would have been sin to Him – disobeying His Father. Out of his love for us He strove against this sin to the point of shedding blood. What greater temptation than to skip out on experiencing the wrath of God for the sins of the world, but He resisted for our sake! Fortunately, we don’t have to deal with the temptation that Jesus faced – we would not be able to endure it.

Jesus took God’s justice on Himself out of mercy for us (Isaiah 53:6). Amazing Love!

Ian

Thank you, Paloma Race!!

I forgot to blog about our adventure last weekend. I had read on my friend Amy's Xanga blog that there was a drive-in theater in Los Angeles that played first run movies. Last weekend, I was quite stir-crazy. After a lifetime occupied by school and work and ten years engaged in the incredibly dynamic community of people at Mosaic, I've been feeling housebound since my maternity leave began. Sure, I've been to work a few times to catch up on some can't-miss meetings, to church, and to people's homes. But we hadn't really done anything date-like since before the baby was born. OK, we did go to the movies one time while Ian's parents were here, but since the live-in grandparental assistance has left and we've been on our own as parents, we haven't done anything fun together.

So last weekend, we packed up the baby, popped some corn, threw a 2-liter bottle of Coke in the car and headed to the City of Industry. We picked up some burgers and parked the car to watch "Inside Man."

OK, so it wasn't a picture perfect date. Jackson got fussy partway through the movie and earned himself a "snack" to quiet him so we could hear the dialogue. Then he leaked through his diaper onto Ian's sweater and earned a messy diaper change in the driver's seat of our cramped Beetle. But it was sooooooo nice to be doing things that people do when they're not in the fog of caring for a newborn. And going to the drive-in was rather nostalgic. Last time I did that, I was in the back seat of my parents' Lincoln Continental with my brother, both of us wearing footies pajamas, watching a Bruce Lee movie. I think we'll be going back to the drive-in again. I highly recommend the experience. Only $7 per person for a double-feature. Can't beat that!!! You can even bring your own food without the shame of having to sneak it in inside a large purse.

Vineland Drive-in
626-961-9262
443 North Vineland Avenue
City of Industry, California

Classic Drive-in that was expanded to 4 screens,
with an overall capacity for over 1500 cars, which
still draws fantastic crowds on most weekends,
as the Los Angeles area's nearest operating Drive-in.
Open year-round, with 4 sets of double features,
and audio provided by FM stereo radio broadcast.
Admission: $7.00 (ages 12&UP); ages 11&under free.

Clarice

"Is he adopted?"

Some of my friends and family have been teasing me about my "little white kid."


I will admit that Jackson looks more like Ian than he does me, with the light hair and blue eyes.


Here's the infant evidence.


I don't mind the joking at all. I mean...he does look like a white kid. To me he doesn't have strong Chinese features. But last Sunday, I got thrown for a loop. Ian was sick so Jackson and I went to church without him. We were sitting out in the courtyard after service enjoying the sun and conversations with people I had never met before who suddenly got friendly when they saw my little cutie. Sandra was holding Jackson...Sandra, my fair-haired, fair-skinned friend...when a woman came by to look at Jackson. She said he was cute, then asked Sandra if he was her first. She looked aghast for a moment, then pointed her thumb in my direction. I replied for her that Jackson was my first. The woman looked at me for a moment, then asked, "Is he adopted?" I wasn't sure exactly what she was thinking. I saw her scan my face and my belly, so I quickly replied, "Yeah, he got all my husband's genes, then sucked all the extra weight off me." I'm guessing she either thought he was too fair to be mine or I was too skinny to have given birth 5 weeks prior. I really don't know. For the record, I'm happy Jackson looks like Ian. A boy should look like his daddy. I'm just baffled that the laws of genetics didn't play out. Oh, well. I guess things don't always go the way they teach it to you in science classes.

Clarice

Our son, the lima bean

Silent for over a week. Wasn't sure quite how to top Ian's last post. Can't top it. Happy not to try to top it. Elated that my husband has committed to fathering in such a way. Makes mothering much easier. So how about something completely different...

Ian's been talking about how Jackson looks like a lima bean. I wasn't quite sure what he was talking about. Was he referring to color? To shape? To texture? Finally, he explained that there was a Veggie Tales movie about Jonah where the Ninevites, who were (apparently) fish-slappers (I don't know what that means), were portrayed by a special cast of lima beans. So here's the photographic evidence.




I'm somewhat convinced, although reluctantly. What do you think? Jackson the fish-slapping Ninevite lima bean?

Clarice (the lima bean's mama)

Dear Jackson

Dear Jackson,

My son, I am your father. I conceived you in love with your mom and I witnessed your growth in her tummy. You brought us so much joy then as you do now, kicking and squirming and hiccuping. When you decided to leave the warmth of your cocoon I caught your head and cradled you. I witnessed your first breath and scream and tremblingly handed you to your mom, the woman who so lovingly cared for you in her womb and brought you into this world with much strain and pain.

My son, I am your provider. I will sacrifice my own needs to meet yours. I provide you with my name, which is my reputation, and I pledge to live above reproach and continue to become conformed into the image of Jesus so that you will see God in our home and desire to be like Him, too. I will hold our family together by placing God at the head and loving and serving your mom that our marriage may be strong to support you. I will pass on the wisdom that my father gave me. I will lead our family to impact the world for Christ and I dream that you will one day become a spiritual leader for you own family so that every generation to follow will seek God’s Kingdom first over all.

My son, I am your protector. As an infant you are fragile and needy. One day I may be fragile and needy and I hope you will take care of me. I will protect you from harm and from the pressures of this world. I will teach you how to think and to digest everything that goes in your eyes and ears and filter out the lies of this world using the Truth of God’s Word. I will protect my marriage so that you will seek the same and will avoid the pain of unhealthy relationships.

My son, I am your priest. I will daily intercede for you to the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. I pray for your relationships, your education, your future wife and children and your opportunities to serve others with good works to the glory of God. I will pray with you that you may learn how to talk with your Creator. I pray that you will fear the Lord your God at an early age and that, with childlike faith and the intellect God has given you, you will become confident in the truth of God’s Word and share it joyfully.

My son, I am your prophet. I will teach you the difference between right and wrong and how to live with a clean conscience. I will teach you the Scriptures that you may know God’s love letter to you and I will teach you how to hear the Spirit of the Lord when he speaks that you may follow Him all the days of your life.

My son, I am your professor. I will teach you the wonders of this marvelous world that we live in. I will teach you to work hard, to play hard, to honor the sanctity of sex, to seek purity and integrity and to lead a life of selflessness and generosity, that you will not hoard your blessings but share them. We will explore the universe together and discover the wonders of science and math and art together. My fridge will display all your creations. And you will teach me again and again, through the mind of a curious, innocent, imaginative and loving child, how marvelous is our God and the world He has created.

My son, I am your pal. There will be times when my job is that of a disciplining parent, but there will be times when we can be best friends. We will go camping together, I will be at many of your ball games and I will teach you to ride a motorcycle and fly an RC glider. I will treasure the memories of the times I spend with you that we may always share and remember the life God has given us together.

As God has adopted me into His family and loved me before I was capable of loving him, I too love you before you are able to love me. While I may disappoint God at times, although He chooses to only see the best of His Son Jesus in me, and I know that you will disappoint me at times, I choose to love you unconditionally for as long as I live. You are my family and I cannot stop loving you and seeking the best for you. You are my son!

Love, Dad

The Little Things

A couple of weeks ago, my friend Darlynn stopped by to see Jackson and to bring dinner for us harried new parents. She brought her 22 month old son. It was so fun to see how her son has grown in the 10 months since we first met him. And it was fun to see what is to come for our little one.

I had to snicker to myself a few times that night though. Apparently, Darlynn's son is learning how to jump. Most of the time, it looked like the physical action of a jump, with no actual progress. But once in a while, he would actually leave the ground a bit. On those events, Darlynn would proudly encourage him, "Great job! You got some air that time!" I thought it was funny because Darlynn, for as long as I've known her, has always been a no-nonsense, tell-it-like-it-is person. I had a couple of middle school aged orthodontic patients who had her as a teacher when she was teaching social studies. She was well-liked (as she deserves) and had a reputation among the students for her biting wit. So it was fun to see that she has melted into a tender-hearted mom.

Now a couple of weeks later, I'm rather surprised to hear what comes out of my mouth, as well as Ian's. Both of us have always prided ourselves on being logical and unemotional, but these are the little things that make us excited now:

"Ooo! Excellent burp! Give me another just like that"
"Hey, did he just smile? I don't think it was just gas. Do it again. Come on, smile, smile, smile!"
"That's it! Turn your head! Lift it up! Now rotate!"
"Hey, I think he just discovered his hand!"
And the classic..."My, that was a productive poop! You're such a good eater!"

All of our happy observations seem so appropriate now - for us as well as for our son at his developmental stage. I just hope nobody catches us saying these same things in 18 years.

Clarice

Before the baby came I used to joke that when the baby came I could regress my maturity to the baby's level and then mature with the baby as he grew. Therefore I could have a second chance to grow up. My wife put an end to my joke after hearing it for the third time. (Three is the magic number for her to start connecting my jokes to my bahavior and wondering if I have core value issues.) I mean, how ludicrous to think that I would really dream of regressing to infancy and start spitting up on myself and pooping in public and then spend 18 plus years growing up to the level of maturity I had when I was that age. Now that the baby has come, we celebrate our baby's infantile behavior but my wife hopes we don't get caught celebrating these things in 18 years! Let's hope we both mature again faster than our baby. :)

Ian

Crossing the street without looking

I read an editorial today that reminded me of something that stuck in my mind about a month ago. I was leaving work and getting ready to cross the street to get to the parking structure where Baloo (my cute single girl's car that is now quite inconvenient for our growing family) was parked. There was a group of 4 or 5 students walking in front of me. The lone girl in the group stepped out into the street without looking. She didn't even wait to get into the crosswalk. Not too big of a deal, except a car had already started to turn left into that lane. She didn't even see the car, she was so busy talking to her friends. One of her friends reached out to stop her and the car slammed on the brakes. And the girl? She walked on, clueless and unfazed. For some reason, I seethed inside. Maybe I was shocked at her lack of caution. I grew up being taught that crosswalks weren't magic. There was the chance that a driver might not be paying attention so I still had to protect myself. Maybe I was annoyed because I've had to slam on the brakes a few times when somebody (usually talking on a cell phone) decides to cross the street in front of my right turn just when the white man turns into a blinking red hand. Most likely, I was frustrated by the lack of consideration she was showing. Consideration was at the core of the editorial I read today.

We as a country (or maybe even a human race) have seemed to have lost a value for consideration. Instead, we continually talk about "our rights." And rights seem to be about the importance of what I want instead of what you may want (or even need). I read an article about Constitutional rights a while back by Walter Williams. The excerpt that struck me was this:

The way our Constitution's framers used the term, a right is something that exists simultaneously among people and imposes no obligation on another. For example, the right to free speech, or freedom to travel, is something we all simultaneously possess. My right to free speech or freedom to travel imposes no obligation upon another except that of non-interference. In other words, my exercising my right to speech or travel requires absolutely nothing from you and in no way diminishes any of your rights.

Nowadays, it doesn't seem to matter what others may want. If a group of people want something, they'll try to push it through loudly with political means despite potential infringement on the rights of others. It kind of bugs me that special interest groups will take issues to the Supreme Court that have already been decided by the Legislature. Even when a majority wins a decision, the minority often wants to impose its desires on the rest of the country. Kinda inconsiderate. I've noticed the loss of consideration in social aspects also. People seem to flaunt their rights to free speech. You know, like having to listen to the sexcapades of a neighboring group of people in loud, off-color language. What if I don't want to hear what you did last night? ...Or what you think of this or that? Can be inconsiderate also. I've even seen the focus on rights enter into the church setting. You know, when people insist that church should be done a certain way. Or that they would best be served if the church did this. What about people who have no experience of church? What if they would actually consider God if we weren't so hung up on what we want? Inconsiderate? I'm starting to see how culture is swinging toward a norm where people feel more and more comfortable demanding their rights at the expense of others. And we are growing less and less considerate.

I think I get so hung up on the battle between rights and consideration because it's a battle in my own life. I'm a structured person. I like things just so and I think I know everything. And sometimes, I forget to (or don't bother to) consider that others might not like things the way I do. So the example of Jesus keeps banging me over the head. He knew what His rights were, yet He chose to consider those rights as less important than serving people. If that's what Jesus did, then I have no justification to think that my rights are more important than someone else's. I wonder what this country (this world) would be like if we all chose to look not only to our own interests, but the interests of others. Less controversial Supreme Court decisions? More congenial relationships with strangers? More growing churches? Perhaps it could just be easier to drive without worrying about hitting people who aren't looking before crossing.

Clarice

Ian's last post

Can you believe what Ian wrote about on his last post? The last time he blogged was almost 4 months ago. He's had plenty of ideas for posts - mainly involving motorcycles, fire, explosions, coal trains, and other manly shenanigans. Meanwhile, in his absence, this blog has moved distinctly toward the feminine. To all of Ian's buddies, take note, Ian's been slightly domesticated by his man-child. He's writing about diaper changes and bath time. Who's next?

Clarice

Baby's First Bubbles

One of the joys of a firstborn child is all the firsts that the parents get to experience. Most of these firsts revolve around bodily functions. First green-black-tar poop. First brown poop. First triple-scoop soft-serve chocolate poop. First orange poop. First yellow poop. First liquid poop. First projectile poop that hits the wall six feet away. First pee onto baby’s chin. First spitup, pee and poop at the same exact moment. First Dad fart that could be blamed on baby. It’s all a joy and brings laughter to everybody present. It’s a universal truth that fart sounds never cease to be funny. Who would want to miss these baby firsts? Not this Dad!

I’ve always reviled at the thought of changing someone else’s baby’s diaper, but for some reason I looked forward to changing my own child’s. At first I was somewhat hesitant to face down the first black, sticky meconium, since Clarice had cautioned me how gross it was going to be. But when there was no smell, I did the first three changes with a singular pride that I only knew as a toddler when I claimed my first solo toilet-poop and wouldn’t let my Mom flush it. “I made that!” I truly enjoy changing my baby’s diaper and even have to fight off his mom for the opportunity. We're so independent. Sometimes, Clarice lets me sleep through a change, but when she cries out with a delightful yelp I hop out of bed to see what I missed - an inconceivable assplosion that ramped off the diaper and splattered the onesie, the footsies, the bassinet, the wall, door and floor. Cool! Just wash your feet before you get back into bed! All so matter of fact. Babies do that...

A few days ago, Jackson’s umbilical cord fell off. This led to another first - bathing by immersion instead of sponge bath. This was a new experience that I didn’t get right the first time. For starters, the bathing tub is too big for baby and I filled it too full with pleasing, warm, soapy water. Jackson hates to be cold and dry, but loves to be warm and wet. But he’s so floppy and every time he bent sideways, his ear would almost submerge and Clarice would ask that I not get water in his ears, all the while snapping photos and not helping me save our child from drowning. We learned a few tricks – use a smaller basin, have rinse water awaiting and don’t let baby suck on his soapy fingers. Soap causes diarrhea, don’t you know? Soap also causes poop to bubble out – another awesome first! :)

Ian

"So that's what hash browns are for!"

Looks like I've joined Ian, whose middle of the night antics I blogged about here, in the fellowship of the sleeptalkers.

It happened early yesterday morning. Jackson woke me up for his 5:00 AM feeding. After nursing, I laid him back down to sleep. It was all going so smoothly. I'd soon be able to return to bed for another 2 hours of sleep. But as I crawled back into bed, I heard the unmistakable sound of an explosion (or ass-plosion, as Ian calls it). Unfortunately, Jackson doesn't like to have his diaper changed, so he woke up screaming and wouldn't go back to sleep. Ian had mercy on me and got up to try to soothe our son back to sleep. So there I was, sleeping propped up against my husband, who was cradling our son. I have a vague recollection that I was dreaming something important when all of a sudden I declared, "So that's what hash browns are for!" In a classic moment of role reversal, Ian's laughter woke me up. He told me what I had said and we spent the next few minutes trying to figure out what I must have discovered in my sleep. After all, most people think hash browns are only for eating. What did my sleeping brain unlock about the existence of hash browns?

Talking in his sleep is normal for Ian. But for me, it can only be attributed to utter exhaustion. Sleep deprivation is not a pretty sight on me. But as I've thought about my "plight" as a new mother, I've realized how completely blessed I have been. Since Jackson's birth, I've had one husband and between one to four grandparents here with whom to share the burden of caring for this newborn. I've had it incredibly easy. It makes me appreciate even more my mother and my mother-in-law, who both did it alone, back in the day when there was no family leave for fathers. And to every new mother who has also had to do it alone, my hat's off to you. I'm starting to learn about the reality and the beauty of sacrifice.

Clarice

"I heard you had a cute one..."

That's what the second nurse said as she whisked into our room to start off her shift with us. "I'll have to take a good look at him in a minute." She scurried about her tasks, taking my vital signs, dispensing my pain meds, and checking on "the site." "Now, let me take a look at your little one," she said. "Oh, you two should procreate more regularly." We agreed with her that we managed to spawn a beautiful child. But we're biased. What can we say?


This is Jackson at 8 days. I wouldn't have guessed that he would look like this. I was so confident that all my genes would dominate over Mr Recessive Genes. But Ian's genes held their own. Jackson's hair is the color of Ian's roots, he has the same cowlick on the right side, and just the hint of a future of male pattern baldness. The ruddy skin is Ian's as well as the little mouth. I can only claim his nose and the dark eyes. I can't really say he looks Chinese at all. But we'll have to wait and find out what the future brings. In the meantime, we just fall in love with him a little more every day.

Clarice

Jackson Timothy Eyre

We are so excited to add little Jackson Timothy Eyre to our family. He was supposed to come on March 6, according to our ultrasound, but was so eager to enter (and change) our lives he came early. Here’s the story of his arrival.

We thought we had plenty of time. After all, don’t most first babies come late? In fact, we were banking on it and planned a weekend getaway on President’s Day weekend, our first anniversary. We checked with our OB then took off for Catalina Island. It was a lovely weekend. We toured the town of Avalon, lunched at the Country Club, went on a cruise in a glass-bottom boat, rented a tandem bicycle to ride along the coastline, and took long leisurely walks. Then Clarice went back to work on Tuesday and Wednesday to finish up some administrative tasks for her absence and Ian went back to work on “Spider-Man 3.” We planned on cleaning house and setting up his living space the following week. Maybe we overdid it a bit...

On Wednesday night, Feb 22 (12 days before the due date), Clarice started experiencing some mild contractions and the sense that the baby was “dropping.” These contractions lasted throughout the night and felt different from the Braxton-Hicks contractions she had experienced the previous few months, so Thursday morning she called to make an appointment with our OB just to make sure everything was okay. Because we asked for an updated estimate of due date to make sure Ian’s parents wouldn’t miss anything before their journey from Atlanta, the doctor did an exam and was very surprised to announce that she was dilated 1-2 cm, 70-80% effaced, and that the baby was at station 0 (for those of you who know what all that means). He said that made things very unpredictable, but thought that there was a 70% chance that the baby would come in the next 7-10 days.

That night when Ian came home from work at 10pm, the parents-to-be scurried about with final preparations, setting up the bassinet and doing last minute laundry for the “hospital suitcase,” hoping for the weekend to clean house and move the clutter to the garage. Ian fully expected to finish the workweek on “Spider-Man 3” and we hoped Ian’s parents could come early just in case.

An hour later, Clarice’s water broke! So much for wishful thinking. We checked into UCLA Medical Center at midnight and were told that if the baby didn’t come within 24 hours, they would most likely induce labor because of the risk of infection with the breaking of the water bag. We pretty much knew this day would be his birthday.

By about 10am, Clarice was 8cm dilated and 100% effaced. The contractions were strong enough that we were finally sure that inducement would not be necessary. As the nature of the pain changed and moved to the lower spine, Clarice was pretty sure she would ask for an epidural. She even signed informed consent just in case. Fortunately, the midwife knew a pressure technique to help her deal with the back pain for 60 seconds at a time. Soon after, Clarice decided that she could handle the pain and chose not to have the epidural. During each contraction, Clarice would close her eyes and concentrate hard, but not make a sound. She was so focused.

At 11:30am, Clarice was 9cm dilated and soon felt the urge to push. Her back pain eased as the baby’s head continued to lower and by noon, pushing felt better than not pushing. Soon the 2 minutes between contractions slowed and Clarice was able to recover and catch her breath, even snoozing for a moment. She tried several positions for each contraction, sometimes squatting, sometimes leaning on a bar, before finding the most comfortable position on her side. Heavy pushing began around 12:30pm and finally the hard work began. Clarice was unbelievably strong and determined to finish naturally.

After the head began to appear, Ian was asked if he wanted to participate in the delivery and he said “sure.” The nurses told him to wash his hands and suddenly commanded him to grab the head and pull. Within seconds, Clarice was holding our little purple son, who cried instantly for a few seconds and then turned into the most content, peaceful boy for the rest of the day. We were happy to be joined in the delivery room by Clarice’s parents and her brother Randy and sister-in-law Amy. Only Ian’s parents were missing. It was a wonderful family affair.

Birth was pronounced at 1:26pm. Weight was 6lbs, 4.3oz. Length was 19.5, although later corrected to 18.5”. Jackson is healthy in every way. We marvel at all the reflexes that God created into him. So far we are just learning what ails him when he cries. He’s feeding and pooping and peeing just fine. Ian even changed the first four diapers with a smile (ask him about meconium).

We named our son Jackson because of a strong tradition in the Eyre family of naming the eldest son a derivative of “John.” Ian’s dad is the third John in a row, with several other Johns in previous generations. Ian is the Scottish form of John. Jack is the diminutive form of John, making Jackson the “son of John.” Timothy is the name of Clarice’s father. Together, his name means “God’s gracious gift” and “one who honors God.” He’s truly a blessing, joy, and miracle. It is our prayer that he would indeed honor God.

Thank you for your thoughts and prayers and for sharing in our exciting news.

Clarice and Ian

The Eagle Has Landed...

...as Granda PapaJohn says.


We are so thankful to God for this miracle. More details to come. Clarice's father has posted many more pictures at www.timothy.smugmug.com that we hope you will enjoy. :)

Ian and Clarice

When snoring is a good thing

WARNING: contains content that may be offensive to snorers or the spouses of snorers.

Never thought I would think snoring was a good thing. It's a rather unpleasant disturbance that has recently tainted our marriage. A few months ago, when Ian started snoring, I was annoyed at the idea that my beauty sleep was being interrupted on a regular basis after months of peace. Then shortly thereafter, I found out that I was starting to snore as well. I was rather dismayed at the prospect that I might be joining him in the ranks of adult-onset snorers. Well, I've since reckoned with the idea that I now snore. For the time being, I don't mind so much. See, I've been reading that it's not good for pregnant women to sleep on their backs. Apparently the weight of the baby on the aorta can cut off circulation. I'm pretty convinced that we don't want that to happen. So it's really good news that I snore now because it only happens when I sleep on my back. And the best thing (huh?!?) is that when I snore, I manage to do so loud enough to wake myself up. So this snoring is simply a preventive measure. I roll on my back in my sleep. I start to snore. I wake myself up. I realize I'm cutting off circulation to my limbs and my child. I turn on my side. Disaster averted. And it's not such a bad thing when Ian's snoring wakes me up these days. It usually happens at just about the time I should be taking a middle-of-the-night potty break. I just hope that this snoring thing is a temporary thing for me. It's starting to get louder now. Last night, Mr Sleeps-like-a-rock woke up to tell me to turn over. We don't need this taking-turns-waking-each-other-up-with-snoring business to be a regular part of our sleeping lives. We've already been warned about the impact that infants have on sleep. Don't need to have snoring worsen that. But for now, it's a good thing.

Clarice

Oooo! He's just a teeny little guy!

That's what the midwife said a few weeks ago when she palpated my belly. And then last week, I saw another midwife, who said, "Well, you've got a compact little fellow in there." To confirm that, the ultrasound technician estimated Juancho's weight to be about 5.5 pounds 2 weeks ago. So with 3 more weeks to go, I'm guessing that my little guy will be more like Olivia than Peanut. I'm going to estimate that he comes in at around 7 pounds, but long.

It's probably no surprise that the professionals think Juancho's small. Ian and I are both metabolically blessed. We're figuring this kid will end up being tall and skinny also. Perhaps the most surprising thing in the above paragraph is the mention of the word midwife. Yep, I'm actually considering a natural childbirth. For people who know me, this is probably a laughable idea. I'm really not big into pain...or exertion for that matter. Never really exercised much because of the whole "sweat" factor. My biggest fitness goal was about 2 years ago. My old roommate started training for a marathon. In support of her effort, I set my own goal - by the time she could run 10 miles, I would make it a goal to run a mile. It took me a month to get there (did you know it hurts your muscles to run?), but I can now say that I did it...once (thanks Cal and Mish!).

In the past, whenever I entertained the idea of bearing a child, I was fairly convinced that I would go the whole medicated route. Just put in the drugs and away we go. I think I even nursed the idea of an elective C-section just to avoid the pain. But now that I'm here, I'm thinking I'd like to at least try to do it the way women have done it for thousands of years. You can blame it on some of the tough chicks I know who have told me their beautiful birthing stories. My friend Lilia, who has the mental toughness and sacrificial attitude to put her dreams aside for her family. My friend Kathy, who had 3 boys naturally while building a pediatric dental/orthodontic practice from scratch (the third son was born at home!). And my sister-in-law Becky, who pushed through a Chemical Engineering degree from Georgia Tech even though she knew she would be serving in missions after graduating, then pushed through the birth of my human nephews and niece. I figure if these gals can do it.... I may be physically weak, but I have the stuff to be mentally tough.... I think. Plus, my dad's a clinical psychologist and is trained in hypnosis. Maybe he can help. And.... Juancho's looking to be a little one. If not, I DID check with the midwives in case I wimp out. They said I could change my mind at (almost) any time and ask for the drugs. Any advice, those of you who have been there?

Clarice

People who like kids...

...ought to check out my cousin Daphne's latest blog entry. Ian and I laughed out loud as we were reading. Out of the mouths of babes, indeed!!

Clarice

We Have TV!!!

You know that saying about how necessity is the mother of all invention, or something like that? We saw (once again) the truth of this concept on Monday. When we moved in here almost a year ago, we had taken to heart the recommendations of several couples who had suggested drastically reducing TV consumption during the first year of marriage. I know of some couples who didn't even own TVs for their first years of married life (until the need to play unceasing Baby Einstein and that show about the Blue Dog became necessary). So we pledged not to get cable TV. Plus, finances were tight and my brother and sister-and-law gave us a year's subscription to Netflix that we figured would keep us busy. We thought we'd just survive with network TV. Besides, there were at least 2 coaxial cable ends lying around in each room of our home. Surely at least one of them would give us rudimentary reception. We picked our corner for the TV and had a choice of 2 different cables to hook up. We picked the closer one. It was rather disappointing. We only got reception on 3 channels - 9, 11, and 13. And they were very snowy. But, no matter, this was our first year of marriage and we didn't need TV. So for the past 11 months, we've watched a total of maybe 20 hours of TV at home. Funny thing is, that total has probably been exceeded by the number of TV hours consumed at my parents' place - they have digital cable and something like a gazillion channels to browse. Last weekend I started thinking about the fact that I will soon be home for 3 months, with nothing but an infant for entertainment during the day. And the Olympics are starting soon. And our first year of marriage is coming to an end. I started thinking about this cable that leaves the roof of our duplex, where a large antenna protrudes, and enters a hole in the wall that roughly approximates the point in our living room where the cable that we didn't pick a year ago sits idly. So I asked Ian to see what would happen if we replaced the cable now hooked to our TV with that one (um...not because I couldn't do it myself, technically, but because my large belly prevents me from climbing behind the television). Well, he plugged it in and...voila...we have TV! You won't believe how giddy we were about being able to watch...um...what do people watch on TV these days? Is Friends still on? At least we'll be able to watch the episodes of E-Ring written by that guy who plays James Clown and Officer Bukatowski of Bad Guys of the Bible.

Clarice