greeting the world (part two)

On June 13, Hodge and I greeted Hodge's mom as she arrived after a long journey from the states. Little did we know, we would be greeting somebody else the very next day.

I started going into labor that Friday night. Never having gone through full blown labor, I questioned the pains. Is this it? As the pains started getting closer together, I knew something was up. So, I woke Hodge at 5 am. He then instructed me to call the doctor. I called and the only words I got out of my mouth were, "I have pains..." before my doctor said, "It is time." I was curious how she really knew after only saying those three words. Perhaps, she heard something in my voice. But even on our way to the hospital, I was still questioning the legitimacy of it. I'd heard about false labor. What if this isn't really it? Or maybe, I just wasn't ready for the reality of it.

But it was real alright. We had woken up Hodge's mom, grabbed our bags, gave Leeloo kisses, and headed to a hospital located 30 minutes away. Before leaving, my doctor also instructed me to call the nurse that she works with. So, I did. It was a bit strange talking to this woman for the first time and then, consequently, trusting her and leaning (quite literally at times) on her to get me through this moment in my life. I'm just grateful my language didn't fail, and that was probably only by God's power.

I'm also grateful that when we arrived and were taken to a room, we learned that the nurse, like our doctor, was incredibly sweet, encouraging, and made us feel very comfortable. She also made sure to speak clearly and slowly so that I would have a better chance of understanding her. After she helped me settle in, we played the waiting game. Eventually, our doctor arrived with a big smile and open arms as she entered the room. I cannot stress enough how thankful I am to the Lord for this woman. Well, she quickly got down to business checking on my progression. Not very far along. More waiting. When she came back maybe 30 minutes later, she announced that the dilation was speeding up. Another 30 minutes later, I was almost there. The final 30 minutes, and it was time.

As she announced the news, giving the nurse instructions to have me wheeled down to the delivery room, it became very surreal. I know I don't have to tell any woman who has ever given birth what that feeling is like. As I thought to myself of the significance of this moment, both nervous and excited all at the same time, the doctor was there telling me to push as Hodge was on one side of me and the nurse on the other. And as that little baby made his arrival, I bawled like, well.... a baby! And then, I look over to see Hodge doing the same. One of the most emotional and best experiences in my entire life.

That day replays in my head as I look at the photographs. It makes me stop and marvel at the miracle of it all. And, I cannot help but thank God for this little baby almost every time I look at him. And the whole experience just leaves me thankful for God's provisions.

When, Hodge and I were considering names, we honestly didn't put much thought into. I wasn't one of those girls who grew up naming her kids years before they even existed, and Hodge already had some names he wanted to pass along. So, when we came across the name Zeke, we initially liked it because it is different. But when I looked up the meaning coming from the name Ezekiel, it means "God is my strength." Now, that is just... perfect. My prayer is that one day this little baby will proclaim that God is his strength, too.

His middle name, Eric, comes from Hodge's older brother who died almost 10 years ago. It's a way to remember him and pass on his legacy, and a way for Zeke to feel connected to an uncle he didn't have the chance to meet.

So, there you have it. Zeke Eric Hodge.

greeting the world (part one)

I am truly amazed at how a moment can live as vivid in memory as the day that it occurred. Heck, I can re-watch movies and still be surprised by the ending. My memory is not one to place a bet on, that's for sure. But this moment I speak of that will forever remain in my memory happened at 11:45 am on June 14, 2014. The moment we met our son.

His arrival story is a pretty typical one, but because we live overseas in the midst of a differing language and cultural setting, we think almost anything we encounter is worthy of a good story-telling. So, here it is. From almost the beginning, this is what happened.

When Hodge and I first discovered we were pregnant again, we mostly kept it a secret. I think most people can understand why. But we did end up telling our families as well as a few close friends in Portugal. One of these friends is a lady who owns a local shop. She had shared her experience of miscarrying her first child, and now, she has two handsome sons. So, I wanted to share my joy with her. She was happy for us and then proceeded to recommend a doctor to us. What's more, later that week I go into her shop again, and she hands me a piece of paper with an appointment date and time. She had called the doctor and set it up for us without us even having to ask! We are continuously amazed at the kindness of the people in this country. Because honestly, at that time, it was still difficult to do such a simple task as call an office and set up an appointment, what between the language barrier and the inability to hear clearly over a phone call. So, after thanking her a hundred times over, we went to our appointment.

The doctor was nice enough, and we were grateful that he wanted to keep a close eye on the baby. Initially, we had checkups every two weeks. At one of these visits, I made the realization that this doctor was one of the doctors who was working in the hospital and attended to me the night our miscarriage happened (yet another moment that lives vividly in my memory). He confirmed my theory when I asked. Why he didn't mention it before is curious, but he is a quiet guy, so we didn't think much about it.

Nevertheless, after several more visits, we became less and less pleased with his bedside manner. So, we ended up visiting a different doctor that another friend had recommended, and we loved her! She was so kind, made us feel very comfortable, and spoke better, more clear English. The only problem was her office is located about an hour and a half away by public transportation. If we didn't have the car and needed to get to her, it would pose a problem. So, we thought it over and made the decision to stick with the doctor we had been seeing, whose office was a short ten minute drive down the road and a bit easier to get to by public transportation.

The pregnancy continued to progress normally, and we were thrilled to receive good reports at every ultrasound and checkup. Eventually, as time got closer, we started discussing the delivery. Now, this part of the story definitely reveals a bit of the culture. Initially, when my pregnant self caught the eye of someone nearby, the question was always, "How far along are you?" But when the question started to shift because it was quite obvious the baby was coming soon, it didn't transition to, "When is the baby due?" Instead, the question was, "When have you scheduled the birth?" I am unsure of the percentage of c-sections that take place in Portugal, but it has got to be pretty high considering the fact that I was often asked this question. And because of this, I learned it is fairly normal here to schedule your birth, regardless of the woman's or baby's good health.

In our circumstance, however, our doctor suggested a c-section because of their estimation of the baby's weight, which was right at 3 kilos a couple weeks out (that's about 6.5 pounds). To us, this didn't seem like a significant weight or a risk at all. In fact, at first, we thought the doctor was crazy to suggest that he was an overweight baby at 3 kilos, but then we reconsidered that maybe portuguese babies are tiny, and they just aren't used to american-sized babies. So, we made it clear that we only desired a c-section if it becomes an emergency. Because I do know that, sometimes, c-sections are medically necessary. But our doctor refused to hear us on it. To be quite honest, it seemed as if he were trying to make us feel guilty for wanting a vaginal birth. He spoke of the supposed risks and discouraged us from what we wanted. And to be quite honest again, we think he just wanted to schedule the delivery to his convenience.

So, I was pretty upset. Our doctor wasn't listening to us, and he wouldn't even consider a vaginal birth. Hodge and I talked it over, and we then made the decision to contact the other doctor we had visited months past. We wanted a second opinion. After arriving, we told her the ordeal and what our doctor was saying. She examined me and the baby and came back with the opinion that she believes a vaginal birth would be no problem at all. The baby is not too large, and I have plenty of space. After discussing the information some more, we ended by asking if she would deliver the baby. She graciously said she would as she told us, "I will take care of you." Praise God.

Before leaving, we scheduled an appointment to see her a week from then. Well, we never did make it to that appointment. Zeke decided to make his arrival just three days later.

(to be continued with photos)