Black Friday

Starting insanely early in the morning on this day, shoppers all over the United States were rushing with maniacal intensity to store-shelves stocked with merchandise on sale. In a no-holds-barred (unless you get caught) battle royal strangely reminiscent of UFC and WWF, housewives, soccer moms, and dads in search of discount electronics were shouldering and elbowing their way through all these other dopes (probably thinking how stupid these people are for getting up so early), making a path to the prize whatever. At times, this stampede has even proven dangerous for some poor employee. Consumers depend on it for their Christmas budget. Retailers depend on it for their annual sales. Somewhat melodramatically, we call this day Black Friday.

About the same time, a drama of a different sort was going on in the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary. Lara was nearing the end of the effective time of her last dose of diamorphine, and the pain was reaching a climax again as the contractions accelerated and intensified. It was way too early for our baby to be born, and Lara was heroically trying to hold on for another couple of days to give him as much of a chance at survival as she possibly could. The doctors needed to consult as to whether it was safe to give Lara more, but they eventually did, and the pain gradually became manageable again.

As an extremely interruptive side note, diamorphine, I've just learned, is also called heroin. Heh heh.

In the early afternoon, Dr. Stenson, who had consulted with us the night before, arrived and spoke with us again to answer any questions we might have since our last conversation had been necessarily brief. We learned a little more about the baby's chances for survival. The best estimate we had for his gestation was 23 weeks, close to the end of the second trimester. According to Dr. Stenson, the survival rate for babies born at 22 weeks was 0%. The survival rate for babies born at 24 weeks was near 50%. The 23rd week was critical. Everything that could be done to increase the baby's chances was being done. They had given the baby steroids (by injecting Lara) to help with his lungs, and another dose would be given at midnight if Lara held on. Dr. Stenson, however, was very pleased that the birth had held off as long as it had, since he had been expecting a delivery the night before.

At this point, our hopes went even higher. We had gone from hopeless to having some hope in a one-in-ten chance to now feeling like our baby had perhaps a 50/50 chance. Based on a 23 week gestation, Dr. Stenson expected the baby to be about 8 to 10 inches long and weigh about one pound (500 grams). The baby's lungs would not be very well developed at all and would need significant help to provide enough oxygen for the baby. Nevertheless, the baby's chances were steadily improving the longer Lara did not deliver.

Lara, meanwhile, was providing me with some comic relief, largely on account of the nitrous oxide she was sucking on rather regularly, and probably partially on account of the heroin, I mean diamorphine. It started with a stray reference to her flowers on farm town. In the context of talking about the pain, she said, “The roses are planted next to the lilies.” I, slightly confused and very amused, asked her to clarify. She frowned and said, “That didn't make much sense.” Then she mumbled something about how the pain looked like lilies to her. Ah. That explains things ... I think. These comments became increasingly frequent as, apparently, the nitrous oxide had a cumulative effect. She said something at one point about putting on a cape, and I thought, if she tries to fly I'm tackling her.

In the later evening, Lara was talking with her dad when she suddenly said, “Oh! My water just broke!” Then I heard the trickle which, honestly, sounded like a distant small waterfall one might encounter in the forest. At that point, we knew it was a matter of hours, not days, and the hope was to make it to midnight so that one more shot of steroids could be administered.

But delivery was not going to wait. As Lara became less and less coherent, the situation became more and more serious. What at first looked like what might have been a totally normal amount fresh red blood increased to a concerning point. We later learned that Lara lost a liter of blood during that time. About 9:00 pm, the new midwife Vivienne, who had just taken over for Emma, Lara's midwife for the last twelve hours, began to listen for the baby's heartbeat. It was difficult to find, and when she found something, it was dramatically slower than it had been just a few hours before. Vivienne's face looked grave, and I was thankful that Lara was not really mentally with us. Vivienne made the decision that we needed to go ahead and deliver the baby, and Lara needed to start intentionally pushing when the contractions came. At this point, communication with Lara was next to impossible because the contractions had been getting more intense, reaching a new level of pain, and only one in ten breaths she breathed was not from the nitrous-oxide-darth-vader-hair-dryer-gun thing. She kept telling us that the baby was coming down and she couldn't stop it. We would assure her this was okay and exactly what should be happening, but she didn't seem to hear us.

Around 9:15 the pain reached a new level and Lara began to weep. I tried to comfort her, but I felt monumentally irrelevant as all I could do was kiss her forehead and speak encouraging words. Suddenly, Vivienne said, “There's his head.” I looked and there was the top of a tiny head. Lara pushed as a contraction racked her abdomen, and out came his entire head. Just seconds later another contraction came and Lara pushed. Then emerged before my eyes a bluish skinned, impossibly tiny, perfectly formed baby boy, and the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

But he wasn't breathing, and I only saw a tiny bit of movement in his right arm. During the delivery a doctor and another midwife had entered the room, and the three medical pros rushed our baby, named Peter Kerry Lee whether he survived or not, into a nearby room to resuscitate him and stabilize his condition. Following Peter out of Lara's womb was a very large blood clot, lots of blood, and the placenta, apparently already detached. Vivienne was very serious: “I'm not sure what we can expect, dears.” What appeared to be his slow heartbeat, now that we knew the placenta had detached early, could have indicated that he was not getting oxygen for an unknown period of time, and his chances hadn't been that great to begin with.

For the next while of unknown duration we waited, intermittently praying and talking, nearly crying and feeling numb, jumping at every movement of our room door, seeking some indication on the face of the entrant as to whether Peter was okay or not. Finally, someone came in and told us that Peter was stabilized and they were wanting to bring him into our room so we could see him before they took him to neonatal to place him in the incubator that would be his womb-away-from-womb for next several weeks. The excitement of hearing this was only surpassed by the moment he was wheeled in on a table, wrapped up so completely that you could only see his beautiful face, being assisted in breathing by a hand pump operated by Dr. Stenson. I have no idea what the conversation was at that moment. My son was alive, stable, and doing well. Eventually he was taken away, and we were left alone for a moment. I sat in my chair next to Lara, who had long ago become completely coherent, grabbed her hand and, laying my head on her chest, wept uncontrollably.

The story afterward is probably known to most of you readers by now, and it primarily consists of normal post-birthing things. It turns out that he was bigger and more mature than we had expected. He weighed 700 grams (1 pound 9 ounces) and is about 13 inches long – more the size of a baby at 25 week gestation. Regardless of how old he actually is, God is responsible for his survival to this point. Who knows what is ahead, but we have this moment right now when I can see him alive and touch him and try to express somehow to him that he has a dad who loves him very much. For this moment at least I have a baby son.

So at 9:23 pm on the day after Thanksgiving, while it was mid-afternoon in retail stores across America when most of the crazy sales were over and the more relaxed shoppers were filtering in to see what they could scavenge, Peter Kerry Lee, the firstborn son of Kerry and Lara Lee, was born at the Royal Infirmary in Edinburgh, Scotland. For me, the meaning of Black Friday has been forever altered.

Pre-term labor

9:30 am November 27, 2009

Well, communication from me dropped off for a while, and my friend JDD can tell you that this is not surprising. After Lara's mom passed away, I had little trite or clever to say, and my time here has been spent in one of two pursuits: coming to a viable dissertation topic during the day, and finding a way to spend time with family online that a number of people could and would participate in. Neither has been simple. Perhaps someday I'll tell you about it, but as of right now I am sitting in a hospital deli while Lara is upstairs at the maternity and delivery section of the Royal Infirmary in Edinburgh, hoping that our baby will hold on for a few days or even hours more before being born.

On Thanksgiving, 26th of November, we were at the house of some friends from church having just finished eating a very fine supper. Lara had been uncomfortable all day, complaining of mild to medium lower abdominal pain. In fact, she had been feeling this sort of pain on and off for a few days, and I can even remember some days several weeks ago when she complained of the same sort of pain, but we thought (and probably correctly) that this pain was associated with stretching ligaments and perfectly normal. This night, however, the pain began to intensify and happen in increasingly frequent waves. After calling the NHS24 line (for medical advice) we decided to go the hospital, if for nothing else to get something for the pain.

After a brief (but thorough) overview of Lara in the emergency room, they whisked us up to another room where they began to inspect Lara specifically with regard to her pregnancy, including a quick ultrasound which revealed that the baby was head down. The baby was coming, and soon, at just over 23 weeks. Our initial response was shock and dismay. We knew that at 27 weeks a baby could have a decent chance at survival. All we could do, before and then, was to pray and call on the mercy of God.

We were then taken to a last room where we would be until after the baby was delivered. By this time the gas they had been giving Lara to reduce the pain was becoming increasingly unable to sufficiently deal with the pain at its worst. Some morphine fixed that problem right up. Both of us were still trying to process the information, varying between numbness and grief. But then a consultant from pediatrics came and spoke with us. He told us that 23 weeks is about as early as a baby can be delivered and have a chance at survival – a one-in-ten chance. Suddenly, “one-in-ten” became a life-preserver, something to latch onto and hope in. Even if the baby survives, he said, there would still be a strong possibility of some sort of mental or physical handicap. The point of this was that a decision needed to be made: given the likelihood of a lower quality of life, when the baby was born did we want them to do everything they could to help the baby to survive or not?

It's certainly much easier to glibly declare one's ideology when not actually faced with such a decision. In that moment I saw a future where Lara and I may have a child that is never fully independent, that may not live a full adult life, and I selfishly asked if I really wanted that. But I also asked myself if it was more selfish to bring a baby into the world and against nature help it to live a life that may be far from normal. Nevertheless, I am convinced this baby is from God, and it's my duty to, in another sense, help this baby, against nature, live a life far from normal. Lara was far ahead of me in this line of thought, answering politely but adamantly that we were aware of the possibilities, but we were committed to giving the baby every opportunity for life, and I agreed. Lara and I have discussed the possibility of a handicapped child and how we would parent such a child.

After that, it's been all about waiting. I tried to sleep in the chair, but that was definitely not happening, so I used my jacket to make a pillow and lay down on the floor, which was surprisingly comfortable at 4:30 in the morning. I must have slept pretty soundly for a little while, because the next thing I knew there were two people bringing in a pad for me to sleep on. Apparently, the midwife in charge of Lara had come in and seen my feet sticking out past the bed. After moving to the pad, I slipped into a coma.

This morning has been much the same as last night. As the time for the next shot of morphine approaches, the pain crescendos, falling back again after the shot. Lara sucks on her nitrous-oxide bestowing pacifier shaped like a hair blow-dryer and making sounds like Darth Vader. That combined with the morphine have provided for some rather silly moments, like when she tried to blow into the pacifier instead of breathing in from it, and then croaked a scary sounding guffaw when she realized what she was doing. An encouraging development has come this morning in that with the last shot of morphine the contractions basically stopped, and the baby was higher in the womb than it was last night when they searched for the heart beat. I'm not going to get my hopes up too much, though. No really.

I woke up woozy and slightly nauseous, but I wasn't really disoriented until I came down the elevator this morning only to discover that for some reason the ground floor looks completely different today than it did last night. I know there was a corridor here, but now there are three other corridors in different places leading in directions that make no sense. I was expecting to see David Bowie walking on the wall or something (hint: Labyrinth). And this brings us back to the hospital deli. I'm looking around thinking about the different things that bring people to hospital delies, and wishing I didn't have two recent and very personal insights into that query.

Guy Fawkes Day

“Remember, remember the fourth of November!” This rhyme was quoted by the those around us who celebrated the strange holiday of Guy Fawkes Day or Bond Fire Day. This uniquely British holiday celebrates this catholic dude who tried to blow up the protestant parliament and King James I (aka the initiator of the King James Bible). Guy Fawkes was unsuccessful and put to death. King James then proclaimed that this day should be remembered for the preservation of the King's life. Unfortunately, very few even realize that it has to do with the monarchy and only remember Guy Fawkes.

Kerry and I did not realize there was a holiday since our church was going to go play football (soccer in the US) like always and all the stores were open. We found out when Kerry received an invitation the watch a fireworks show at a nearby park. Since we already had confirmed the football arrangements, we declined, but we still were able to see some fireworks during our bus ride to the indoor sports complex.

From all that I can gather, not very much is done on this holiday since nothing else indicated their was a holiday. Perhaps it is like our Presidents Day in the fact that kids at school do things and the government sometimes does things, but most families go on with normal life. When I did a search about the holiday online, I found traditions that included burning a mannequin or kids standing by a mannequin that they made begging for “a penny for the Guy”. We saw none of these things.

It actually was very similar to the way Halloween was celebrated here. Supposedly the UK celebrated Halloween the same way we do in the states, but we saw absolutely no trick-or-treaters even though there are families in the flats around us. In fact, I could not find any candy in the stores to buy for trick-or-treaters until after the holiday was over. I did see costumes sold, but those, it turns out, are sold all year around for dress-up parties.

Looking back, I do remember fireworks being on sale at a few store before Guy Fawkes Day, but not enough to make me wonder. Of course, that could be because of living in Texas we have a fireworks stand everywhere year around.

All I can say is that I hope Edinburgh is not so dormant when Christmas comes around.

A Guide to Kerry and Lara's Baby Registry

It turns out that both baby showers and baby registries are American inventions. Luckily ToysRUs is located everywhere. So here is a guide and explanation to this registry.

Since we live in the UK, we registered on the UK version of the site. You may not find our registry if you just type in Google “ToysRUS”. You must go to “www.toysrus.co.uk” to find it. Then you will have to type in my email address to find the specific list. If you don't have my email address, you can email Kerry and he will send it to you. We registered in the UK so that shipping costs would be minimal and the confusion factor on the company's part would make the purchasing part simpler, hopefully. Either way double check the shipping costs because it may be better to buy things like baby clothes in the US and mail it that pay the shipping. You may also want to combine your order with others so you are only paying one shipping fee.

This now has caused a few more questions. Terms for some products are different. A cot is a crib, a nappy is a diaper, and so on. You will just have to click on the item and read the description. It is pretty clear in the description if it isn't from the picture itself. Also you may want to search the site and see things like a tens machine that is supposed to relieve pain in child labor or some of the other UK differences. It is kind of interesting. If there is anything you think we missed on our list, we can add it with little trouble.

There will be a few things that are noticeably missing from the list on purpose. This includes some furniture and a car seat. The reason for this is that we are living in a tiny furnished apartment. The second bedroom already has a dresser and a wardrobe (in place of a closet). We also don't have room to have a crib and then a bassinet or moses basket stand since we must keep the bunk beds that are in there. There is also nowhere to place a rocking chair no matter how much I would like one. If I could figure out where to put it, I will certainly add it to the list. We don't own a car and the buses don't have a place to put a car seat. We have observed many parents just holding their babies in their laps for the short trip. I would rather used a baby carrier (thanks Susan) than just hold the baby, but either way, there is no use for a car seat until we are in the US. The stroller is not for an infant because the bulky infant strollers would be harder to deal with on the crowed streets and up and down our stairs than just a carrier. When the baby is too heavy for the carrier, I will use the lighter stroller for longer trips. I also did not list blankets, because I received a great deal of blankets to put in my luggage when we flew here. They are wonderful and traveled well, but I will not need anymore. The top drawer of the dresser is already filled with them. I am certain I will use them a lot.

So why did I have the things that I do? In the UK, using cloth diapers is not as unusual as in the US. With us having a washer/dryer in our flat, it makes sense to try and save money if we can. Diapers are probably one of the biggest cost I have heard associated with having a baby. Also breast feeding is more common here as well. I have done my research and I do already have a few bottles in case, but I am certain I will breastfeed the baby. I also would have liked to vary the sizes of clothing I had listed, but I still do not know the gender of the baby so I stayed with under 6 months and mostly under 3 months. I included a baby tub because our kitchen sink is too small to work for a bath as many people had suggested. Even though most of you may not need some of these explanations, I just wanted to let you know my thoughts so that if you see something I had not thought of, you will let me know. I have done a lot of research, but I do not have a lot of experience. Some of you have suggested small things I had not thought of or read anywhere. Sometimes those little things make a big difference in saving ones sanity.

So that is our baby registry guide. If you have any problems with it from purchasing to delivery or even just some of the items, let me know. The prices may seem a little high, but it is pretty average to low compared to other stores around here. If you want to purchase the same item from ebay, I suggest looking at only those who will ship to the UK. Often they can ship it to me cheaper than you can from the US. I am not particular about brand names either though I wish I could have found more Winnie the Pooh or teddy bear stuff. Also, if you do buy something somewhere else, do let us know so we can take it off of the registry. I know that ruins the surprise, but it may save us the risk of having to return a duplicate object which would be a bit of a bus trip. Well, thanks to everyone and I hope the registry helps make things easier for you. It was fun to create and research!

Domestic Bliss

I thought I would lump together some of the observations I had of domestic life in Scotland. Since everyone speaks English and there are so many American fast food places, one could sit in Starbucks and forget you are in a different country completely. The main places to experience culture shock is in the grocery store. How can “real American hot dogs” come in a pickle jar? How in the world do they call it Mexican food or even label something spicy when I can hardly taste any black pepper let alone a chill pepper? These are a few of the surprises.

The main difference I noticed in grocery shopping is that I have to plan on carrying everything home. This limits most everyone to a hand held basket instead of our American sea of buggies or carts. This is also convenient since the isles and the store in general are quite small. This then gets to my next point. The choices of products are very limited. I do not mean that you do not have a choice of brand which is similar to the US, but that if you want pineapple it better be in season. Your choice of meat or produce will change regularly and if you are wanting to make a particular recipe, then it ought to have a limited ingredient list that is not to specialized. In general they have everything you may need if your cooking from scratch, but things like Ranch dressing and slightly unusual spices like lemon pepper seem completely gone. Some items are the same as in the US but just named differently, such as dish soap is called washing up liquid. Somethings are in one grocery store and not in another, such certain brands of potato chips (which they call crisps).

I also experience this sort of variance in shopping for home do-dads. For instance, many store have shelves of kitchen gadgets, but only one had ice trays. The department store where I was told were reasonably price were over ten times as much as the dollar store style stores. There is variance in the US, but not that much! To prove my point, Jenners, a large department store, sold duvet covers (pillow cases for the comforters) for 80 pounds while the Pound Stretcher sold duvet covers for 8 pounds.

Now why do I need a duvet cover? Here in Scotland, they don't use top sheets. You make a bed with a fitted sheet, a duvet or comforter, and a duvet cover. Nothing is tucked in or folded. It does shorted the time to make the bed to just straighting the duvet. I really like it.

While we are talking about the home, I should mention that there is a switch on everything! Every outlet has a switch and even the outlets for major appliances. I cannot say how many times I put something on the stove to find out ten minutes later I had never turned on the switch to power it. I also made the mistake of turning off the switch to the refrigerator and ended up with a puddle around it. Luckily, we had not bought much groceries yet. This switch fetish apparently derives from the super high electric bills. I have not received ours yet, but people are obsessed here about saving power. Many homes do not even have a dryer. People just hang their cloth in front of the heater.

We are still trying to figure out our heaters. There is an electric space heater in every room and no central thermostat. Kerry had I have to figure out which of the three awkwardly labeled knobs, a switch, a timer, and and two outlet switches to adjust the temperature. We then have to decide which of the heaters to actually adjust to begin with.

So back to cooking, the stove has two compartment where we usually just have a oven in the US. One is the oven and one is a grill. The tiny stove has done well so far, when I turn it on and when I remember it is labeled in Celsius. Luckily, we have not had any fire alarms go off. That would be too embarrassing.

Of course somehow this leads me to my recent observations about Christmas. Many stores have just put out their Christmas things, but so far the Christmas sections are quite small. They also have these things called crackers which are little wrapped gifts in the shape of tootsie rolls. Two people are supposed to pull each side and it give a little pop. Inside is a small gift and a paper crown. The one who got the largest side wins the gift and the crown in some people's versions and some people just give the gifts to everyone to pop open. These crackers are about as popular as Christmas cards.

Well, these are my observations for now, but I am sure there will be a continuation. So until next time, as they say here, cheers!

Reflection

I want to thank you all for your well wishes and sympathy during this time. I flew back to Dallas Friday, October 9, to be with my father, grandmother, and brother. Then on Wednesday, we flew to Florida with my mom's ashes for the funeral. Friday, October 16, was the funeral. My brother, Joe, being a youth pastor, conducted the funeral and I, my grandmother, and my cousin, Andy, also spoke some words. The service was a celebration of my mom's legacy and devotion to Jesus. Afterwards, everyone met at Olive Garden to eat, talk, and visit. For a funeral, it was as pleasant as can be. My mom's faith left us the certainty and comfort of knowing we would see her again soon. Again, I want to thank everyone for your encouragement during this emotional and difficult time.

A positive side of effect of this sad affair was that I was able to see family I had not seen in two years and able to talk about the coming baby. This was a special thing for Kerry and me. I have not had such nice family time in a long while. Of course, that is my fault because I am the one moving all over the place, but I can't say I would change a thing. Either way, I felt happy to reconnect with some of the most important people of my life.

During this century long week, I also have been able to spend time looking back to see if I have any regrets. My goal in life is to live with no regrets and at the end of my life to be able to look back and be content with all that I have done. During this time of reflection, I have decided that I would rather risk everything and fail than never reach for my dreams at all. I have no regrets. I wish some parts had been easier but I am content with everything I have done so far. My life is dedicated to Jesus and that gives me a bigger focus than how many cars we own (which is zero) or how many things we possess (which is surprisingly little). I see faith, friends, family, dreams, and experiences as the only earthly things that last. That is our legacy, and being cautious in the pursuit of thee things is the only way to guarantee that you will not succeed in these areas. In comparing my goals with the accomplishments of my mom that I admire, I see that one cannot pursue a faithful relationship with God or even human friends and family with reserve. I will need to work on that more.

In light of these thoughts, I am eager to go back to Scotland to finally get settled in our new home. Home is the center of one's world in which you are able to reach out to others. Without a satisfactory home situation, it is hard to pursue any other goal. Kerry went and got our shipment of things before joining me in the US. Most of our things other than the books, are sitting waiting to be placed in the spots I had envisioned when packing them. Things that turn a place into a home such as pictures, tablecloths, doilies, and art are so important because of the memories and comfort they bring. They are the physical reminders of the relationships and experiences that make a life feel full and complete.

In looking forward to this nesting instinct, I have struggled with wanting to take everything that I feel I might need with me. A lot of household things seem to me to be unreasonably expensive in the UK. these things are simple, dumb things like hangers, rugs, towels, washrags, and even kitchen utensils. I also feel the need to take comfort objects, objects that are really best classified in the junk group. I just feel a little insecure and want an identifiable teddy bear type object that makes one feel safe in the world at the moment, but I can't figure out what that object might be. Perhaps I am wanting things to replace some lacking in relationship time I feel at the moment. It doesn't matter, the practical side of my nature will keep it in check.

Finally, I have spent more time this week thinking about Baby Lee than I have at any time in my pregnancy. I have thought about what Baby Lee should call various family members. I have thought about how my mom raised me, and how we should raise our baby. I have really just noticed the baby;s movements and started to think about Baby Lee's potential personality. I have also wondered what more I am really going to need in the UK for a baby. It appears that until we fly to the US, we may not need the car seat. I may want to adapt to some the UK child rearing sensibilities as I learn of them. The whole world of the newborn baby seem more foreign now than it did just months ago when I thought I would depend on my mom for advice. Kerry's mom will be a good source and I respect her mothering abilities very much, but my foundation has been shaken. I wonder also how this baby will see the world being born in such a different circumstance than most people. This baby will in its blood and earliest experiences be a citizen of the world. What I mean is that this child will learn about so many different ways to live at such an early age. Baby Lee will be exposed to the UK mannerisms in terminology, while at the same time hearing and experiencing American culture and being exposed to the Cuban way of life. This child will, like me, not truly belong to one cultural group, but be versed in overcoming cultural idiosyncrasies and navigating various forms of social interactions. Hopefully, Baby Lee will inherit Kerry's natural charisma and friendliness and less of my awkwardness. Above all, I want to focus on giving our child a biblical education. Baby Lee will not merely go to church to learn how to live a godly life, but will get focused family time in which we really teach the importance of prayer, study, and relationship with Jesus.

I suppose that all of this has been my week of reflection and I think that my time in Scotland will be forever effected by it. I spent very little of my time in Dallas and Orlando actually going places, but emotionally, mentally, and in every other way it was a very busy week.

Arthur's Seat

On craggy Arthur's Seat I found a bloom.
Alone and stark its violet velvet life
Persistently against the cold and grey
Did share its beauty on the stony slopes.
Then once atop the rocky heights I stood,
The sun I glimpsed through granite stratus wisps,
Descending now and glowing drowsily
As jagged shadows strengthened at its wane.
Where once volcanic violence destroyed,
where ash and lava formed a rocky crust,
I now found green and bushy herbs and grass
Reborn amidst the fertile remnant soil.
On Arthur's Seat and in its frigid breath
I learned how Nature thinks of life and death.