Baby Update

Charlie Raymond Holland was born at 7:40 a.m. at Northwestern Lake Forest Hospital in Lake Forest, Ill.

At birth, Charlie weighed seven pounds, eleven ounces, and measured twenty-one and one-half inches.



In light of how his older brothers entered the world, Charlie's labor and delivery process were bland by comparison. It was less than 11 hours from first contraction to first cry, and his mother pushed for roughly 13 minutes before her third little angel first saw the light of day.

In addition to being the morning of Super Bowl XLV, Charlie also had the distinction of arriving between the worst Chicagoland snowfall of the young century and a chilling cold snap of subfreezing temperatures that will begin the day he is scheduled to come home from the hospital. In fact, snow gently fell throughout the night and early morning hours as we watched from the delivery room window. As the morning hospital shift arrived and mentioned deplorable road conditions, Kristie and I felt new relief we were able to drive to the hospital at 1:45 a.m. on pristine blacktop with a near total lack of traffic.

The most remarkable thing about Charlie, to this point, is how he's been able to bring his parents to tears simply by being here and being healthy. When older brother Jack was en route in April 2004 — nine days past his due date — he was stubborn and stalled and came out only with the aid of surgical forceps. In 2008, Max — ten days past his due date — sent everyone into panic as his heart rate plunged, doctors ordered an emergency cesarean surgery and he emerged with a collapsed lung, earning him a three-night stay in the neonatal intensive cares unit.

At 7:27 a.m. Sunday as the medical team prepared Kristie to shift from labor to delivery — four days early — I prayed for safety for everyone's sake and took the deepest of breaths to steel myself for any possible outcome. I no longer take for granted the miracle of life and would not exhale until that little man was safely held in his parents' arms. When he was, and that it happened so fast, I was overcome with emotion. It was as if, while fearing the worst, I'd forgotten to prepare myself for the best.

As I held him and looked down and said simply, "Thank you for being healthy," well, I got a flavor of the peace that passes all understanding. Even now as I write this I'm a bit choked up, but I'm able to hold it together because I'm in my living room by myself, not sitting bedside with baby and mother.

Kristie decided weeks ago she wanted me to spend Charlie's first night at home because that would place me here first thing in the morning to get Jack ready for school — as it turns out, his first full day of school since last Monday, owing to weather-related closures and early dismissals. He missed most of the week before with an illness he passed on to everyone at home. And though Jack is safely on the bus, I'm still here because Max is asleep upstairs, having crashed on his way home from the hospital Sunday afternoon and then staying up until almost midnight.

As I tucked one of my little men into bed so late Sunday it was almost Monday, I couldn't quite determine my own feeling. There's five of us now, and having five under two roofs was much more calming than having four under four roofs as we ended up the day Max was born. But still I think we'll all feel a bit incomplete until we can get Kristie and Charlie home, where we can begin developing our routine (not that much is routine during baby's first weeks) and settle into this next phase of our family's life.



The internet and e-mail and text messages and cell phones have kept us connected with friends and family near and far, and it is a wonderful treat to hear and read words of congratulations from so many people. It confirms my belief that, for all its challenges, the world Charlie is born into is one where love reigns supreme, where relationships can grow, deepen and endure such that no one is ever alone unless they choose to be, where friends become family and family becomes the safety net that binds, protects and steadies us all.

Not only that, but this is one adorable baby. His skin is smooth and soft, his head is covered with that famous Holland baby hair, his eyes at times can lock to mine and he fits perfectly in my arms, just as I'd imagined. Jack is consumed with wonder about not just all the health gadgetry in the hospital but also the precious gift of a little brother. Max is missing the regularity of having both parents around to cater to every whim, but he's going to adjust and keep showcasing his trademark resiliency.



Kristie is doing remarkably well given her track record, being lauded by hospital folks for tackling the VBAC challenge and up and walking on her own power as needed. The beauty I see in her as she looks over at the bassinet and says, again, "He's just so... perfect!" is the essence of what drew me to her so many years ago, and it reminds me how lucky I am to be paired forever with such a wonderful wife and mother.

And with that, the Doodle is stirring up in the bunk beds. Time to stop waxing poetic and resume the every day duties of fatherhood that make a life worth living. I can't wait!