The Birth of Abigail

An Evening with Estrogen

On June 13, 1984 my life changed forever. My lovely bride, Cheri, presented me with a son. This was before the day of ultra-sounds and i-pods. Back then, were we excited to hear the pitter-patter of a tiny heart beating. The doctors and specialists would listen and then caveat their opining with the ever careful; there is no proof, BUT…prologue.

Nowadays we not only get their gender but their attitude as well, for example: see how she’s tilting her head? Oh look at his hands, he’s a basketball player, boy the apple won’t fall far from this tree…and on it goes.

Charles original due date was June 1st. He was late and after hiking Cheri down Little Cottonwood canyon, a multitude of stairs, taking walks, and anything I could conjure up, Dr. Curtis tried an experimental and progressive method of inducing labor. We went on the morning of the 12th to his office, and by tip off, Cheri had started mild contractions. Game 7 of the NBA finals between the Los Angeles Lakers and the Boston Celtics was on tap and our good friends Wayne and Lori Scott, along with other friends were in house for the final game.

Cheri sat right next to me during the entire game and as a contraction would start, she would lightly nudge me with her elbow. Notepad in hand, I would record the start time along with the score, another elbow to indicate the end of the contraction.

By half-time things were progressing well and we went for a walk. The 2nd half was exciting, intense, and regretful. My team lost, so at the end of the game, I summarily excused all of our guests.

They were a bit surprised by my attitude until I broke into a big smile and let them know Cheri was in labor and we were headed to the hospital. I downed a bowl of cereal and off we drove to the hospital. No fan fare, no family or friends hovering around, no one calling our cell phones and the hospital room for updates, no e-mails, no blog postings, no Facebook notes, or pictures being sent by phone, not even a single text message.

As we arrived at the hospital we said a little prayer. I was very nervous of the unknown. We didn’t have any family or friends brief us on what to expect except the birthing classes and the videos we had to watch. But we had each other and we were very excited. We did not know the gender of our baby, but we had the names of both genders already picked out.

The nurses were flat out awesome. They were very well trained in the birthing center concept-a decade ahead of Tacoma when Andrew would be born. I learned more during the actual birth than I did during the birthing class. It may have to do with my attention level and what I needed to know and when.

The evening turned into early morning and Dr. Curtis arrived just in time to catch our mini-me. He delivered our precious cargo textbook perfect and as the doctor rolled him over; I was perfectly positioned to be the first to witness the gender of my newborn. I let out a manly yell and the entire first floor of the hospital knew Charles had been born.

By mid-day family was arriving to wish us well and offer congratulations. Uncle Dale placed sunglasses and a baseball hat upon our newest harbinger of testosterone.

Fast-forward to the year 2008, my boy Charles is now married to Heather and she is 11 days past her due date. She’s been having contractions for the past three days and it’s time to visit the hospital. It’s Monday morning, July 21st and it’s time to bring forth our little unnamed princess as her sex was determined long ago. She’s been on a merry-go-round inside of Heather’s tummy for the past month and like any mother-to-be past due almost two weeks, enough is enough.

Upon arriving at the hospital they ran into a Nurse Ratchet (“One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest) who informed Heather she was probably not ready to have the baby and will more-than-likely be sent home. Just the elixir Charles and Heather needed, a sweet, sympathetic nurse. She would be wrong in her assessment to the delight of all and Heather’s contractions intensified.

In fact, her contractions were so short in between that her body was not given any time to rest or relax. Morning turned into afternoon and Cheri picked me up from the office. We needed to stop by Charles and Heather’s home on our way to the hospital, (I don’t remember why) but what I do remember was seeing Imelda Marcus’s shoe collection in miniature. That little girl to be has more shoes than I owned from ages 8-18.

The grand-mothering instincts in Cheri have been very strong for the past 9 months and they bit her again during our very brief stop over. She realized young ‘whatever her name is’, needs a stuffed play toy. Right, thought I, after scanning the fully inventoried nursery. How come every time we visit their house or Cheri sees a pregnant daughter-in-law (Heather), my pocket book is the first to find out?

Upon arrival at the hospital, Dr. Van Duker, her new best friend, had just visited Heather. Brad stopped by to say hello and ended up giving Heather her block (epidural). She finally had a chance to rest between contractions; in fact, she was no longer feeling them and the only way she knew they were continuing was the heart monitor contraption at the side of her bed.

As we arrived, nurses were coming and going. Nancy (Heather’s mother) and Courtney (her sister) were already ensconced in the birthing room. Charles was the ever-dutiful husband and father-in-waiting bouncing around looking for someplace to land and be of service.

Now I’ve been married for 26 years, I raised my three younger sisters from birth, I’ve worked in the corporate world with some powerful and intelligence people of the tender-gender persuasion, but today I learned about the most powerful force, known to the human race-ESTROGEN!!! Now estrogen all in one room to have a baby is known as ESTROGEN ON STEROIDS.

Estrogen is one of those intangible elixirs that is omnipresent. Cheri’s level doubled as she came in contact with other estrogen emitting entities and the moment I entered into the room I was so outnumbered I think General Custer had a better chance at Little Big Horn than I did in having breathing room let alone a place in line to see our (oops, excuse me, I had a testosterone moment and thought I was somehow apart of this experience), I mean their little princess upon arrival.

From the epidural to the delivery was a relatively short time, however, as the estrogen laden humanoids bonded in the delivery room, I was in the waiting room with some of the lowest level of intelligence to ever scratch the earth. As I sat studying my book and taking notes, my boundary of attention was occasionally pierced as I would look up to take a needed break or relax from a thought or idea, the topic and words of their conversation would penetrate my ear drums and cause physical pain.

There were 4 adults sitting in the corner watching whatever mind-numbing program is on TV during early evening hours. They were adults in physical age only, because their conversion was more painful than a group of boy-scouts sitting in my car for a 5-hour drive.

At about 8:20 PM my force field of attention weakened and so I searched for another place to wait out the birth of my unnamed granddaughter. I walked to the birthing room and was about to sit and wait outside for any news. Just as I set my briefcase down to be followed by my body, I saw a sign indicating my intentions were not permitted. It was almost as if the sign was created with the excess estrogen emitting forth from Heather’s room.

It was now 8:25, my tummy was turning upside down knowing my son was experiencing one of life’s greatest moments—the miracle of life. He was the sire of a daughter of God, she, who was only recently in the presence of the Creator and His Sire, our Father in Heaven. The very thought filled me with joy unsurpassed and without adequate ability to express.

I glanced at the room and walked away without anywhere to go. I passed through the double doors out of the birthing center and back into the waiting room. Pure stupidity in abundance greeted me so I kept up my aimless wandering hoping to somehow find a quiet resting point to bask in my thoughts and ponder the miracle that is life and wonder how my father, my grandfather and my grandmother are faring on the other side of the veil.

My meandering took me to the pharmacy waiting room where a young couple waited impatiently for their prescription. They were on edge and I wasn’t sure if I was invading their private frustration. Almost in answer, he got up and I could hear him speak with the pharmacist. The prescription wasn’t ready. He returned to his seat and commenced on a short-list of his favorite swear words.

Within a few minutes, they called his name. I was trying to read TIME magazine and keep my mind occupied with something other than his favorite adjectives. Soon I heard his raised voice in frustration over the pharmacy’s preferred method of payment, which obviously didn’t agree with his desired approach, and so the couple left by way of the nearest elevator, but not before he shared his long-list of favorite adjectives as he stood waiting for the elevator to arrive.

Ahhhh, peace and quiet! I focused on my article and quickly found an interest when my phone rang. It was 8:40 PM. It was Charles asking me of my whereabouts. I informed him and so he casually asked if I’d like to see my new granddaughter? I quickly made my way out of the pharmacy waiting room, down the hallway, left hand turn past another set of elevators, through the waiting room where four bodies were grouped in the corner but no sign of intelligence life was noticeable, through the double doors down to the end of the hallway where I lightly tapped on the door and entered a mass of confusion. Bodies were everywhere and many of them were in motion.

Dr. Nickel was wrist deep in blood putting Heather back together. Nancy and Courtney were around Heather’s bed, Charles greeted me with a big smile and we embraced. My oldest son was now a father, which meant I was officially a grandfather. Cheri greeted me and asked if I’d seen Ruth. So that was the name of the new baby I thought, how odd! Thank goodness Ruth turned out to be the nurse, an old friend of 20+ years from Tacoma. She gave me a hug.

I was looking for my granddaughter, but I couldn’t find her. Tremendous commotion was going on around Heather so I girded up my loins and I didn’t care what consequences were ahead I was going to hold my granddaughter. I started forward and walked right by her, so Charles kindly showed me the whereabouts of his little cherub. I bent down to kiss her and bond when the nurse took her away.
I followed; they were doing all sorts of things, measuring 19 ½ inches, weighing her, 7 lbs. and 15 oz. They measured her head, I don’t know the size but she measured intelligent. This girl wasn’t more than 10 minutes old and she already oozed more intelligent matter than those in the waiting room.
The nurses left, I made another move; whiff, another green-clad estrogen laden nurse swept in and took her for another something. For the next few minutes it was continued chaos, I went to visit Heather. I kissed her on the forehead and told her I loved her. They brought the little princess over and set her on Heather’s chest for a good bonding moment.

She was still bloody, her head was coned, her hands and feet were blue and wrinkled, she was still crunched up, but she was alert. She looked around, her mother’s love was virtually tangible and her father beamed with pride and protective love for both of his girls. She was simply gorgeous. A precious collection of cells, organized by the power of her Creator that is so incomprehensible to our finite minds, that the sheer event of child birth bears testimony of His existence.

It was time for me to slip back out of the room, Heather needed some time without a hovering Father-in-law, so I slid out into the hallway and made the requisite calls to family and friends with all the vitals so they could rest and sleep well.

I didn’t know how long I needed to stay removed for Heather’s sake and I may have been there all night if Charles didn’t come and get me again. Estrogen never acknowledges the presence of testosterone in moments like this. I sheepishly re-entered the arena for another round of estrogen. There was continued excitement rehearsing the birth and general conversation when Charles used the name Abigail twice during conversation. It was sticking, and so the decision was made, Abigail Lynn Himmer.

So far, my relationship with Abigail was long-distance. I was relegated to the role of secret admirer; perhaps I could send her e-mail with my Facebook link, a modern-day version of a pen pal. I wondered if it would be possible to touch and hold my tiny princess?

Then the magic moment happened. It was Charles again coming to the rescue of his flailing father, “here dad” was all he said and for the first time in my life, I held a little girl who belonged to me. After five boys, I have a girl that will call me grandpa or papa or anything for all I care as long as she calls me.

I spoke with Abigail, we started our bonding experience. We discussed life before life and I queried whom she was with, what did they say, what was it like, and what her first impressions of mortality were. I could tell she was responsive to my inquiries, her spirit was soft yet strong. Her ability to light up the room and our lives was powerful and omnipresent. I kissed her and she tried to suck my nose. It was like old times, I melted and didn’t want the moment to ever end when estrogen struck again.

She couldn’t have been in my arms more than 45 seconds when Cheri decided it was her turn. I’d have to wait until the next day when the room was filled with testosterone. Andrew, Scott and I visited Abigail on Cheri’s birthday, Tuesday, July 22, and we spoke at greater length. No whisking away the little princess, no take aways, no estrogen, just a calm acceptance that we will each get a fair turn
and enjoy the other’s moment.
In the immortal words of Henry Higgins, “Why can’t a woman be more like a man?”

Congratulations to Heather and Charles! Your Abigail is as precious as ‘Life Eternal.’ She embodies all that is divine. May the Lord bless your sweet family. I’ve never been so happy to surrender to the power of estrogen. Motherhood is the greatest power in the universe and the Lord above compensated men with the priesthood to give us a power that almost rivals. Both are designed to give away and both type of the Savior.