Mark's Blog

July 12, 1974.

Seven months before, I had carried a little sack with a urine sample down to the pharmacy about two blocks away from our apartment on the Lister Meile in Hannover, Germany.  A couple of years earlier, we had been pregnant and miscarried, so we were eager, but cautious about getting our hopes up.

I don’t think they did the test immediately. I think I had to come back the next day to get the results—the results that made me smile all the way home.

We already knew where our little nursery would be—the room in our apartment that shared a wall with Frau Hakemeyer. She was an 80-year-old concert pianist, who had a grand piano in the room with the common wall, so every afternoon our new little baby would be treated to Chopin!  What more could you want.

A modern wall mural of Noah and the ark went in over the new crib, which was outfitted in bright red, white, and blue!  Yes, this was going to be an American baby!

The evening of July 11, I came home from our office and found Sherrylee scrubbing down the balcony!  As I questioned where she got the energy in her condition, she interrupted me: she had already finished thoroughly mopping the kitchen—just getting things ready, she said—but I think it was that burst of energy that God gives women right before the Time!

About 11pm, she said it’s time to go.  It was about a twenty-minute drive in our little bronze-colored Chrysler Simca—a BMW could have made it in 10– to the hospital—even so, there wasn’t a lot of conversation, but I’m sure both of us were praying and wondering about what was getting ready to happen.

We arrived at the Universitätsklinik just before midnight, so the night nurses were helping Sherrylee get prepared and telling me to go home because nothing was going to happen very quickly.

I was prepared for that trick, however! You see, we had searched all over Hannover for a doctor that would allow us to do Lamaze natural childbirth, which includes the husband coaching the wife through the delivery. There were no Lamaze classes at that time—at least in Hannover, so we read seven how-to books.  We were experts! We were prepared!

But then we discovered that no one had ever done this in Hannover, so the doctors would not cooperate. We went to clinic after clinic and were getting nowhere! Crazy Americans!

Our last stop was late one evening at the university hospital. We walked in, found the doctor’s office closed, but a light on in one office, so Sherrylee opened the door carefully—and there was Dr. Künzel, the Chief of Obstetrics for the medical school in Hannover—wondering who was barging into his office at that time of night.

When he realized that we were Americans and when he heard our plea, much to our surprise and pleasure, he agreed! He, as a university professor, was perhaps more interested in new methods and ideas than some of his colleagues—or maybe Sherrylee just charmed him. I’ve never been quite sure!

So, anyway, I was not about to let the nurses trick me into going home—and I told them that Herr Prof. Dr. Künzel—long titles are impressive in Germany–had approved my being there, and I was staying.

Finally, they let me in–and there was Sherrylee in her gown already hooked up to the fetal monitor that registered every heartbeat of our new baby as well as the pressure when each contraction came.

Through the night we breathed, we talked, I rubbed talcum powder, we breathed, we talked, sometimes she slept between contractions, but then we breathed, and talked, and rubbed talcum powder.

By mid-morning of the 12^th, I was exhausted! I sat down—but by this time, the nurses that had been through the night with me were all friends, so they brought me some small refreshments. Before I had time to even snack, it was Time.

Almost without warning, God did His miracle! First the crown of his head, then his head, then his whole slightly blue body!  It was a boy!  And even though there had been a little cord issue that caused the doctor to slow the delivery down a little, he appeared to be fine! OK, I did cry a few tears of wonder and joy!

The nurses stuck him under a faucet and washed him off, pulled on his legs to straighten him out for measuring, and did some other stuff to him as well.  Then they let us sit and hold him, our son Philip Gary.

There are so many more little stories to tell: Granny Joy coming to help Philip recover from “his little operation,” weighing him on scales after every meal to figure out how much he was eating, but especially the story of getting his pram and him stuck in the revolving doors of the Cologne cathedral on his first excursion just three weeks after his birth.

. You’ve grown into an impressive man, a great husband and father. You’ve always been wonderful son—even when you broke my thumb!!  You truly love God.  You have blessed our lives.

Your mother and I love you dearly—and always will.