Only one patient

Childbirth stories never fail to pique my interest. Birth has been a passion of mine since I was young, reading my mom’s copy of Rahimah Baldwin’s Special Delivery. But since I’ve become a mother, my interest in childbirth stories has only increased.

So when the headline “Focus On Infants During Childbirth Leaves U.S. Moms In Danger” showed up in my newsreader, I clicked through to NPR’s report. And when I finally got the time to read the whole thing (it took several sittings because, hello, newly pregnant mother of a toddler and an infant), the story hit home in a way I wish it hadn’t.

The statistics are nothing new for me. The United States does a terrible job of keeping pregnant and postpartum women alive when compared to the rest of the developed world. I knew that. But this is a story with a face. The face of a woman with preeclampsia, with HELLP syndrome – a woman with what I had. A woman who died, leaving her baby behind.

There were warning signs. Signs that weren’t heeded. There were lots of opportunities to save her life. But when she or her husband suggested that preeclampsia might be the problem, they were pooh-poohed. And she died.

The text of the article hinted at rather than driving home the point the headline made: “Focus on Infants during Childbirth Leaves U.S. Moms in Danger” – but I couldn’t help but relive my own experiences.

When I think back to my hospitalizations with Tirzah Mae and Louis, one of the hardest things for me to deal with was how the focus shifted from me to the babies the moment they were born. Before they were born, I was the patient. The nurses checked on me hourly. Every care was taken to keep my blood pressure low and to keep the baby inside me healthy.

But once they were born, it was as if a switch was flipped. Never mind that I had the exact same (life-threatening) condition I’d had before the babies were born (now with major abdominal surgery added on top of it). I was no longer carrying a baby, so I would be just fine. My baby was the important one. It was as if only one of us could be the patient. My turn was over and it was the baby’s turn.

Thankfully, with Tirzah Mae, I started improving after her birth and continued to improve.

With Louis, a medical error – a resident forgetting to prescribe me my blood pressure meds when he discharged me on a Friday afternoon four days postpartum – could have meant my death. By the grace of God, I took my blood pressure that Saturday afternoon just as I had every day of my pregnancy since my morning blood pressures had started to rise near the beginning of the third trimester. My blood pressure was at critical levels.

Rather than going to the hospital to hold and feed my baby on his fifth day on the outside, I traveled to the hospital for another purpose – to live to hold and feed my baby again. I spent hours in the ER getting one dose after another after another of IV labatelol. It took five doses to get my blood pressure back down.

I’m not angry with the nurses, with the doctors, not even with the resident who failed to prescribe me a blood pressure med on discharge. But I am angry with a system that only considers a woman’s health important inasmuch as the baby is kept healthy. Why can there only be one patient?

Is it not just as important that these babies we rightly fight to keep alive and well in our NICUs have mothers who are alive to care for and love them?

Why must there only be one patient?


Snapshot: Louis drives

We were heading to the “Forum on Race” that our church is co-hosting this evening with another church in town when our electronics started flashing off and on.

We stopped in a park lot to see if we could figure out what was going on – and couldn’t restart the car.

So while we’re waiting for Triple A to show up, Louis is practicing his driving.

Louis drives


You have a choice

When I read Foster Cline and Jim Fay’s Parenting with Love and Logic with my sister-in-law a couple years ago, I wasn’t too impressed. I felt like many of Cline and Fay’s examples were manipulative – and they gave an initial description of parenting styles that put me off.

But one thing in particular about their approach stuck with me (in a positive way). They encouraged parents to offer children choices – both of which choices are acceptable to the parent. So “eat all that food or I’ll leave you at the restaurant” doesn’t fit the bill, since the parents really aren’t okay with leaving their child at the restaurant. “Either you can eat that food in the next 15 minutes or we’ll leave THE FOOD at the restaurant” is another matter entirely.

Now that Tirzah Mae is two and is asserting her independence on a regular basis, I’m finding this particular tip to be a life-saver.

In the parking lot: “You have a choice. Either you can hold mama’s hand the whole time we’re walking through the parking lot, or mama will pick you up and carry you into the store.”

Tirzah Mae on a Curb
Tirzah Mae chose to sit on the curb while mama was putting Louis in his car seat

At the library: “You have a choice. You can look at the books without pulling any new books off the shelf or you can sit in the stroller.”

At home: “You have a choice. You can take your clothes to the hamper or you can go sit in your room for a minute.”

I don’t always use the words “You have a choice”. But I use them often enough that when I reminded Tirzah Mae to clear her bowl from the table after breakfast one morning, I heard her repeat to herself “You have a choice.” And then, a few seconds later, I heard the bowl slide off the table and heard her mutter “Good decision.”

And that is indeed what happens when she selects the option I prefer. “Good choice!” I’ll tell her. Or the aforementioned “Good decision!”

It doesn’t eliminate parenting challenges, doesn’t mean she always obeys. But giving her a choice certainly makes things easier.


I’m so glad

Surely every family has their own special phrases, words that can be heard as the warp threads upon which the fabric of our lives are woven.

One of our special phrases is “I’m so glad.”

I’m so glad I’m married to you.

Whispered words as we linger ten more seconds in bed before rising to meet the demands of one or the other of our offspring. Words accompanied by a handsqueeze as we drive together to church. Words spoken in broken voices after a particularly emotional conversation (read: when one of us has hurt the other.)

I’m so glad God made me your mama.

Words said during sweet moments of snuggling. Repeated during bathtime or diaper changes. Reminders to myself as much as to them when my exasperation seems to know no bounds.

I’m so glad

An exclamation when I’m feeling glad. A reminder when I’m not. A reassurance to myself and to them. God has made us a family. And we are glad He has.

What are your family’s special phrases?


Parenting: Providing Anticipatory Guidance

It didn’t matter how many times I told her not to. She bit the fluoride dropper every time I put it into her mouth.

I’d draw up some fluoride, squeeze the excess out until I had the prescribed 0.5 mL, and insert the dropper into her mouth. She’d clamp the dropper between her teeth and grin at me as I tried to extricate the dropper. “This is not funny, Tirzah Mae,” I’d say, “this is disobedient. You should not bite the dropper.” My frustration level to rose higher and higher as the days went on – and so did Tirzah Mae’s sense that this was a marvelous game.

And then, one day, I suddenly knew exactly what I needed to do.

I needed to give some anticipatory guidance.

Holding hands with Mama

What is anticipatory guidance?

According to yourpediatrician.com:

“‘Anticipatory Guidance’ is a common term in the field of general pediatrics. It refers to providing education to parents about what to expect, or anticipate, over the next few months or years with your child. Recommendations are specific to a child’s age at the time of a visit.”

Our family doctor’s anticipatory guidance involves reminding me to childproof the house at the 6 month visit, since my little one is likely to soon become mobile. Our doctor is letting us know what to expect and what to do.

In the same way, my anticipatory guidance for Tirzah Mae meant telling her what was coming and what I expected of her.

In the above scenario, that meant I’d tell her something like this: “Okay, Tirzah Mae. Mama’s going to give you some fluoride. Now, I don’t want you to bite the dropper.” In this way, she knew exactly how I expected her to behave (or to not behave). If she followed my instructions, I’d praise her: “Thank you for being obedient, Tirzah Mae.” If she disobeyed my instructions, I’d put on my sad face and say “Oh, Tirzah Mae, you’ve been disobedient. Now mama will have to punish you.” And I’d administer whichever punishment was currently the order of the day.

And, as time went by, she learned what I expected and I no longer needed to give anticipatory guidance for the fluoride drops.

Holding her own hands

Now, it’s other things. As I see the pastor or elder making his way to the pulpit for the call to worship on Sunday morning, I explain to Tirzah Mae: “See how Mr. Dave is coming to the pulpit? He’s going to read to us from the Bible and then pray. I want you to be quiet and stand next to mama while he does that.” Or as I get ready to take Tirzah Mae out of her car seat, I’ll explain: “We’re going to go into ALDI, but I want you to hold mama’s hand the whole time we’re in the parking lot, until I put you in the cart.”

It doesn’t mean Tirzah Mae obeys every time, or that we never have struggles, but because I’ve articulated my expectations in advance, I’m able to respond to her actions more calmly rather than reacting in frustration. Because I know that she knows what I expect of her, I need not waffle about punishing her when she disobeys for fear that she’d forgotten my instructions. And the disobedience occurs less and less. In fact, she even begins to anticipate my guidance and say so herself.

She reaches out her hand to grab something from the shelf in the gas station but stops herself just in time. “Fold your hands,” she instructs herself, repeating my guidance. “We’re going to go into the gas station, but I want you to keep your hands folded and not touch anything.”

Anticipatory guidance. It works for us.


Must Christians Homeschool?

After listening to R.C. Sproul, Jr’s audio series Training Up Children”, I am quite sure of what Dr. Sproul Jr’s answer to that question is. I am also quite certain that I disagree.

First, Dr. Sproul’s position.

Dr. Sproul began in Deuteronomy 6:6-9 (an excellent place to start when discussing a parent’s responsibility toward their children, by the way.)

“And these words that I command you today shall be on your hearts. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise. You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.”

~Deuteronomy 6:6-9 (ESV – Emphasis mine)

Dr. Sproul (quite rightly) extrapolates from verse 7 (bold above) that parents should speak of God to their children throughout the course of their lives, not just during a time of formal devotions or family worship. From here, he takes a giant leap to say that parents must homeschool their children in order to be with them at all times.

This, I believe, is an inappropriate conclusion to draw from this passage.

This passage clearly speaks to the important role God intends His word to play in the lives of his people. God expects that His word be not merely external to His people but internal (“shall be on your hearts”.) God expects that parents will diligently teach His word to their children, not merely as formal instruction but as part of the everyday-ness of life. God expects that His word be always before His people (bind on hands, between eyes, on doorposts and gates.)

What this passage does not speak to is whether parents and children should always be together.

As a thought experiment, let’s explore whether one can be obedient to Deuteronomy 6:7 while sending their children to a “state school” (Sproul’s term). We’ll start with the various contexts in which parents ought to talk to their children about God’s word.

“When you sit in your house.” Do parents of children in a state school sit with their children? It depends. Do they eat meals with their children? Do they sit in the living room together after supper? Do they sit together in a car? They may or may not, but there is nothing inherent in sending your children to school that precludes parents sitting with their children.

“When you walk by the way.” Do parents of children in school drive their children about? Do they walk or ride bicycles about? They may or may not, but there is nothing inherent in sending your children to school that precludes parents from traveling with their children.

“When you lie down and when you rise up.” Do parents of children in school put their children to bed (or send them to bed, depending on their age)? Do they wake their children up or see them when they wake up? They may or may not, but there is nothing inherent in sending your children to school that precludes parents from being with their children during bedtime or wakening.

Interestingly, although a majority of Israelites of the day would have engaged in some sort of agricultural activity, God does not say that parents ought to talk to their children about God’s law while milking the cows or tending the sheep or collecting manna. Nor does he say that craftspeople ought to talk to their children while sewing, weaving, or throwing pots, despite the reality that many crafts were done as a family. Instead, this passage refers to everyday activities that parents and children are likely to share regardless of profession or position or socioeconomic class. And even if parents and children don’t do them together, every person on the face of the planet sits down, moves around, goes to sleep, and wakes up. And every person on the face of the earth does these things regularly.

What this passage has to say about parents’ obligation to train their children in God’s word is simply this: Parents ought to diligently and regularly speak to their children about God’s word in the course of everyday life.

Dr. Sproul thinks that Deuteronomy 6 insists that parents be with their children all day every day homeschooling them. He allows that there will be some delegation – for example, his son was going on a trip to the zoo with Dr. Sproul Jr’s mother and sister while Dr. Sproul was giving one presentation – but he denies that sending one’s children to school is an acceptable form of delegation. I have two problems with this. First, as I argued above, I believe that Dr. Sproul twists this passage to imply a necessity of parents and children being together at all times. Second, if Dr. Sproul’s interpretation of this passage’s implications is indeed true and parents must be with their children at all times speaking to them about the word of God, then I see no reason why “delegating” to the children’s grandmother and aunt is an acceptable exception.

This is not to say that there are not significant advantages to homeschooling. This is not to say that some parents may discover that homeschooling is the best way for them to diligently teach their children the word of God. But homeschooling is not necessary.

Let us not put burdens on the believer that God does not.

Must Christians homeschool their children?

No, they need not.