Everything else is comfortable and I am filled with joy that another child is making an entrance into our family.  Or so I think.

Things were going along as usual and I knew that the baby I was carrying was my Nathan.  I had gone to bed in Chiya's pregnancy when I was 23 weeks along.  When I found out at 17 weeks that I already had to go to bed, I was shocked.  That would make twenty-two weeks of bed rest!  Of course a baby born at sixteen weeks would die.  I cuddled my belly with my little one inside and cried.  Although we never got a test to determine the sex of the baby, I knew whom this child was.  I again had another son and the struggle ahead of us filled my mind and heart.

We were now doing a bit better financially.  It had been two years since Neil had opened his own practice.  We hired help right away.  Across the street from us was a woman who had become my friend.  She had two small children and I trusted and enjoyed her company.  She would come over and help with a few things that couldn't wait until Neil got home.  She would fix the lunches and dinners on the days that Neil worked.  She would take the children over to her house to play when I needed to sleep.

We settled down to this new routine.  In my pregnancy with Chiya I had started taking a drug to help calm contractions.  I did not need to take very much and I didn't need to take it constantly.  I continued this pattern with Nathan.  Since the problem was not premature contractions but a quiet and painless opening, the medicine mostly just kept any tightness from happening.  My uterus would sometimes get tight like a ball and stay that way for hours.  It wouldn't come and go like contractions.  At these times I took the medicine.

Each month my body was more ready to give birth and that frightened me.  Each month Nathan was more ready to be born and that was joyous.  My midwife and my doctor were pleased at how well we managed this trial.  This being our sixth pregnancy and the fifth one that I was bedridden gave us a feel of knowing what we were doing.  By this time we had overcome many of the emotions that plague couples in this situation in previous pregnancies.  We still had the concern that our son might be early and that was a heavy weight.  Still, other emotions and worries gave way to peace because of our experience in this arrangement.

Then when I was just past the 32nd week I became sick.  It started mild enough with a small fever and then a little cough.  Slowly things became worse.  Eventually severe bronchitis settled upon me for the first time in my life.  I could feel bubbles in my chest as I exhaled.  I refused to take any medication for the condition.  Intuitively I knew that the medication would harm my baby or the pregnancy.  I had struggled so long to keep this baby safe.   I didn't want to let go of that safe birth goal even though I was suffering.  Of course it seemed unreasonable at the time, as the medicine was considered safe; however in a future pregnancy I would discover just how inspired I had been concerning the medicine.

My condition went from bad to worse to serious.  We hit a safe time for Nathan to arrive and began to talk about inducing.  We had agreed that we wouldn't induce unless the midwife, Neil, and I all agreed that it was the right time.  First Neil and I felt it was time.  Diane wasn't sure.  Neil and I had been so excited and sure Diane would agree that when she didn't, Neil gave up and decided to let our son come whenever he pleased.

The following week Diane and I agreed that it was a good time to have this baby.  I had reached the point of not even being able to lie down to sleep.  I would sit in bed leaning over some pillows because it helped with my breathing.  We asked Neil and he said, "No, let's just wait."  He had patients the next day and there was no reason to rush it.

The next morning I woke and knew as clearly as I ever knew any inspired message that our son must be born that day or something terrible would happen.  I did not even ask Neil.  I told him and my sweetheart never questions when I know the Lord has spoken.  He called his office and canceled patients.  Then we called Diane.

Diane had awakened with a migraine headache and could barely move from her bed.  Besides this, it was an important day for their family.  When we told her that the baby needed to come and that I had a feeling of impending doom if he didn't she was in tears.  We went to her home and Neil worked on her head and neck trying to bring the pain down.  Even though it helped somewhat, she remained in tremendous pain.  Her willingness to deliver at such great sacrifice showed both of us how much she cared for us and how deeply she trusted our feelings concerning our baby.  For my part, I would never have insisted had there been anything less than the constant dread at the thought of waiting another day.

That evening after getting our children settled down to sleep we broke water and waited.  The labor started right away and in only two hours our healthy Nathan was born.  The only trouble in the labor was that I had great difficulty breathing.  I have been blessed with never needing to push out a baby.  After the first push they are ready to ease out.  This one was no different.  If it had taken any amount of pushing I don't know if I could have done it.

This wonderful little son was so beautiful and healthy.  This was our first full term son and he weighed eight-and-a-half pounds.  He nursed immediately and was the first one that needed no coaching.  Our other children woke up and greeted their little brother.  I delivered the placenta easily and without the mechanics of Chiya's birth.  Before long, our home had quieted down and sleep overcame us as I held my son close to my breast.

I awoke in the morning with a tremendous pain stabbing through me with each breath.  In tears I had Neil take me to his office and he X-rayed my chest.  We clearly saw the signs of pleurisy on the x-ray.  I am certain that I could never have gone through labor once that pain started.  That wonderful birth would have been a C-section.  I also realized that as limited as my oxygen intake was it was a miracle that he had not been deprived or even dead while dependent upon me for his oxygen as well.  I was so very grateful for the inspiration that brought us to inducing the night before.

We called my medical doctor.  I was unwilling to go to the hospital and be separated from my newborn and I had prayed that he would offer any other alternative.  He put me on medication that I felt comfortable taking now that the pregnancy was over.  My doctor warned us about how serious this had become and we were to follow his instructions to the letter.  We did but as he had warned, things got worse before they started to turn around.

That last night before I turned the corner and started to recover, I know that I nearly died.  I did not sleep all night.  I could only inhale for a few moments and then my exhale seemed to take forever before my next inhale.  I was certain that if I slept, I simply would not awaken.  My little son needed me and I sat up on that couch all night holding him against my chest.  His life strength seemed to flow into me and through me, warming me.  I felt myself beginning to heal.  I am certain that he brought me through that terrible night.

As I was facing this frightening challenge to my life, my husband continued to work.  He had his mother come and stay with me throughout the day.  This is when I learned of one of my life's regrets.  I had wanted to invite her to my son's birth.  I was shy about doing so.  As she cuddled her newest grandson, I heard her quietly say that she had never seen a child born.  Eight children and all these grandchildren and oh, how she wanted to see a birth.  I cried and promised myself that I would invite her to my next birth.  Later that year she died and while I know she was at the birth of my next child it was not the way I had hoped.

After that first week the pneumonia healed rapidly.  However, pleurisy never heals quickly and it was a very long time before I could walk anyplace without a sharp pain in my lungs.  Where I had never been breathless before the illness, I now found that I couldn't climb our stair without puffing.  Where I had always been slender, gaining weight with each pregnancy and losing it without any thought, now some of the weight stayed.

It hurt me deeply that Neil continued to work that first week.  I was in so much pain, I was near death and we had a new little baby.  Even with his mother staying with me, I still needed my husband.  I am certain that it never sunk into Neil's heart and mind that I was so close to leaving this life.  It took years to overcome a nagging resentment over his absence on those critical days.

When I was pregnant with Nathan, the veil between where my unborn children lived and where I live thinned to the point of disappearing frequently.  Often as I would be in prayer I would see this handsome young man standing near me.  As I have said, there was no doubt that it was Nathan who would be arriving.  He seemed to have a quiet personality and one that showed him to be a gentle leader.

He must have been very concerned for those around him, a personality trait that is prominent even now.  He would stand near, waiting for me as I prayed.  Then he would show me another spirit child about whom he was concerned.  He would ask such questions like, "What if this child can't go to the parents he wants?"

I would respond that the child could always come to us.  Eventually he came and said, "He went where he wanted to go."  For a long time I was confused about this kind of worry.  Then later when Nathan came to me with another young boy standing in the background I began to understand the earlier questions.

This other boy, who had dark hair compared to my blonde Nathan, was so quiet.  He wouldn't say anything.  I would try to get him to talk but nothing happened.  Finally Nathan said, "He is afraid you won't want him."  I then understood that the earlier questions were so that this one child would know that I was willing to have children that I had not seen in that first vision before our marriage.

I assured the little boy that I wanted him.  It still took many visits, standing behind Nathan, before this child was at peace about my assurance.  In the next chapter I shall tell more of this son, my dark-haired Ryan.

   If there is one thing we constantly work at teaching Nathan it is to not worry about the little things.  He has taught us that we must be more exact in our language, in our teachings, in our actions.  We must not just assume that our broader meanings are the ones that are understood.  He would take very literally whatever we express and he trusts us to teach correctly.
    An example of this came across crystal clear when I was teaching him to write.  We had discovered when he was younger that he was left-handed.  Since our friend Jay Trottier is also left-handed, we were aware of some challenges he'll face, such as which is the best side of a person to sit at when eating dinner so that elbows don't knock.
    One day I gave Nathan detailed and clear instructions for a writing assignment.  Then I told him to go and do it right.
 He came back a little later, frustrated and close to tears because he couldn't do it neatly.  I kept telling him it was OK but he was so very upset.  Finally, it came out that he just couldn't do it neatly with his right hand.
    "But, Nathan, you write left-handed."
    "I know, Mommy, but you said to do it right."
    I tried not to laugh but kept saying, "I'm so sorry, Nathan, I meant do your writing."
    Then he kept saying, "I did!  But I can't do it right!"  It continued in this comical fashion.    In the end he started to laugh to as we got past the frustration and wording.
    After that I was careful to say things like, "Do it correctly."  So this boy brought into our family a concentration upon exactness.  And as we help him to learn to relax and worry less we have experienced a reminder that after all the exactness, after all we can do, the Savior takes care of the rest.  With that reminder we can relax our hearts and enjoy the fruits of this blessed life.
    It is important to Nathan that he is in good standing with his Heavenly Father and his parents.  We work at teaching him that the Lord wants him to be happy and not sorrowful over past errors.  Repentance is a one-time event per problem unless the problem is repeated.  It has been a difficult lesson for Nathan, not because of any real errors but because of his desire to be positive that all is well.
    I once asked him why he was so concerned and he told me "Because I want to be a good boy."  My mother's heart went out to my sweet son!
    "Oh Nathan, you were born good!"  Then I explained more about his purity, his goodness, his relationship with Heavenly Father, the purpose of repentance being to return somebody to that goodness.  He listened and later struggled to trust what I said, still worrying about so many little things such as "once, a few years ago, I threw some rocks at the neighbor's shed."
    Then came the day that my dad, Nathan's Grandpa Brown, lay dying in a hospital bed.  We took the children to see him.  He greeted them and spoke quietly.  Dad never knew the worries that Nathan harboured and yet he asked my son the most perfect question in all the world.  "Nathan, are you a good boy?"
    Quickly, without hesitation, Nathan said, "Yes."
    Later I talked to my ten-year-old son about the tiny conversation.  I let him know that his grandpa was inspired in what he had asked.  Just as he could honestly and easily say "Yes" to that question, it was the same question that Heavenly Father will ask.  He won't be interested in a million trivial things, only in those things of consequence.  Just as Nathan knew inheritantly that he was indeed a good boy he will know that same thing at a future time if he continues to live as he has.  I am so grateful for a beloved father who gave that last gift to my dear son.

    When Nathan was born, we were renting my grandfather's home in El Cajon.  It was a small three bedroom home with two bathrooms and a living room.  We had Chani, Ben, Chamrie and Chiya in one bedroom.  Neil and I were in the other bedroom with our little Nathan.
    The last was the smallest room.  We used it as a playroom.  By having this playroom, we could keep the children's bedroom very clean.  They slept and dressed there.  Once that was done, I could latch that room for the day and it stayed orderly.  The playroom also had a latch so that we could close it once the day was finished or if the children wouldn't do their part in cleaning up.  Except the one toy they were particularly attached to, all toys were kept in this room.
    We had finally reached the point where that little house was too small for our family.  It was time to move and a much larger home, nearly three times larger, just fell into our laps.  We were thrilled!  It was a tremendous jump in rent, but still much less than what a house that size and in that location would normally have been.
    It had four bedrooms upstairs along with a bath.  Downstairs it had a living room, a family room and a den which we called a schoolroom.  The kitchen was small but sufficient since we used all empty cupboards and closets throughout the house for food.  We loved it!  The only thing we didn't like was that it was on a busy street.  We would have been happy renting that house for the rest of our years of raising children.
    Our little babies sleep with us for as long as they can do so safely.  Once they start crawling around where I am afraid they will end up on the floor, we move them out of our bed.  Long before that point they will be taking naps in a crib so that I won't have to be worried about falls.
    Chani did not sleep with us long.  By the time she was five months old she was out of our room.  Some children were more active than others.  They would wake up and move around.  We had put a tall, padded board up against the frame of our waterbed.  This way I could have the baby sleep between that board and me while I slept next to Neil.  Nighttime nursing left me much more rested this way then getting up and sitting in a chair.
    Nathan stayed in our room for about ten months.  Then we moved him into the boys' room.  Ben had a waterbed and Nathan was in the crib.  We had bought Ben's bed extra long so that when the time came to move Nathan out of the crib one slept at the foot of the bed and the other at the head.  My young children preferred to share beds.  Even during the times when we tried individual beds the little ones always ended up together.

    Nathan loved balls and would only sleep when he first had a ping-pong ball clutched in each little fist. He would gather all the balls in the house into one spot. Much like a little girl would gather in her baby dolls.  He felt that all balls were his and we had to help the older children understand his possessiveness over those various spheres.  Oranges were balls that he did not want anybody eating.
    Most of our children would show a strong preference for one parent or the other.  Then they would switch allegiance for a time, creating a balance of getting the emotional food they needed from both of us.  Nathan was more easygoing, being content with either of us.
    Nathan loved to play sport games.  Sometimes Neil would play baseball in the backyard with the children.  Ben didn't care for the game, mostly because he was still struggling with managing his depth perception.  Nathan however really loved to play.  He seems to have a natural ability.
    We decided to not involve him in children's sports teams.  It is not a popular decision among families these days but we have not wanted the stress we saw in other families over games and practices to invade our lives.  We felt that the time when he can play on Young Men teams will be soon enough.  The more we raised Nathan and experienced his blend of sweet, quiet concern for exactness in performance and the worry about doing what is right and doing things correctly, the more sure we were that our decision was inspired for Nathan's benefit as much as for our family structure.
    As Nathan grew his talent in the area of art became evident.  He is able to see something and then recreate it at a later time.  Once he saw a Halloween skeleton made from milk cartons hanging from a neighbor's door.  He came home and made a few for our home.  He is always interested in making things with his hands and we are all awed by his gift.
    Nathan is left handed.  When I was teaching him to print his letters I once told him the assignment and then told him to go and do it right.  After a while he came and my even-tempered son literally threw his paper onto the desk in front of me. "There!  I did it.  It isn't very good though."
    I looked over the paper and sure enough, it wasn't as neat as his usual work.  Wondering what happened, I asked.  He was rather irritated when he said, "I did it with my right hand."
    "But Nathan, you are left handed."
    He was the perfect example of exasperation!  "I KNOW I'm left-handed but you told me to go and do it right."
    I laughed!  My poor son!  He takes things so exactly as you say it.  After that I learned to tell him to do things "correctly."
    Nathan has always shown a fascination for bugs and frequently collected them in containers that I would have preferred to have kept in the kitchen.  He enjoys movies, games and stories but he prefers to read science or factual material.  He is slowly beginning to enjoy literature but I suspect it will always take a backseat to more educational reading.
    Now at age twelve that fascination with bugs has expanded to include anything alive.  He's raised polywogs and released the frogs into the garden.  He's kept a turtle until I learned how dangerous it could be if my youngest one decided to see how it tasted.  He made a home for preying mantis visitors and would catch, observe and free lizards.  He won a rabbit at the fair and wants to breed it.  One night Neil heard a distrubing sound in our bedroom.  He looked and couldn't see a thing when a huge frog suddenly jumped right in front of his eyes.  Nathan's current pet.

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