And Then They Were Five... (Asa’s Birth Story)

 

We, the Rioses, are now a family of five. We have crested a threshold that fewer families today are cresting. We have advanced passed an invisible wall of Western culture—from two to three—and we are now in the camp of people who qualify as ‘large’ families. Landlords view us with suspicion (this has actually happened to us), restaurateurs will begin to eye us with malice when we cross their thresholds (this hasn’t yet happened, but I suspect it), and posh DINKs with too much time on their hands will thank themselves that they elected not to procreate. We rapidly approach the place where we require a minivan not for the kids we intend to carry with us, but merely to shuttle our own growing clan of children.

But it is not all bad. For example, as my brother-in-law has wryly observed, families who have only one or two children are in disobedience to God’s commands. When God blessed Adam and Eve He sent them out to “go forth and multiply.” If you have only two kids, you haven’t multiplied—you’ve merely replaced yourselves. It takes a third child to multiply.

Okay, so maybe it’s not that drastic, but it is a change, and we are delighted to welcome our newest son, Asa St. John Rios to our home. 

Because of the speed with which Cates was born, Liesel was a bit nervous about Asa (Edit: She was A LOT nervous). We have not one, but two sets of friends who have had babies in their cars, and suffice it to say we had no particular inclination to join their special club (although they are lovely people!). Fortunately for us, Asa’s arrival was not as dramatic as Cates’s was (in case you don’t remember, there was a hasty car ride to the hospital and an exciting run through the hospital corridors for her). In fact, the dominant image I have for recounting Asa’s birth is that of circling in a plane while waiting to land. We circled, waiting for his arrival, for some time, with some anxiety. Then, when the runway opened up and it was time for his arrival, we landed immediately.

 

Liesel started having contractions for Asa about a month before he was born. Yes, you read that right. A month. These were not, to our knowledge, “Braxton-Hicks” contractions—they were full-on pain-filled experiences that would stop poor Liesel in her tracks for a few moments while she recovered and leave her exhausted at the end of each day. They also made her nervous about a sudden birth in the car, about finding care for Moses and Cates while we went to the hospital (“What if there isn’t enough time for someone to get here?”), and so we lived on pins and needles throughout September.

As I said, much of the birth was this kind of waiting, so I’ll try to make what was a long period of waiting short in the retelling. Contractions, no baby. More contractions, no baby. Irregular but still painful contractions, but no real baby-momentum. A hopeful Monday when things looked good and we had help visiting us in the car (our friend Drusilla), then no dice. Finally, on Thursday morning, Liesel’s birthday, Liesel woke me up in the morning and said, “Let’s call Blanca.” 

A word about Blanca. Blanca is our doula. She’s been our doula for all three children now, so there’s something special about having her in our home and at the hospital with us while we go through this experience. She has lots of experience with babies—Moses was baby number 50-something for her, Cates was 200, and Asa (we think), was 311. (In fact, just recently she served as the doula for Michael Bublé and his bride—to think, Michael Bublé got to have our doula! Lucky guy!) When Blanca shows up, I put the coffee on, and Liesel has babies. Works every time!

So Blanca came, and we waited. Contractions were more regular, but not “rocking and rolling” (as Liesel says). We went for a walk. We played with the kids. We ate empanadas and drank coffee and Drusilla and Blanca spoke to each other in Spanish (Blanca is Mexican and Drusilla grew up in Honduras). Then, in the early afternoon, the people at our birth program looked at Liesel’s chart, saw how quickly she had given birth before, and said, “Maybe you’d best get near the hospital, just in case.” We readily agreed.

A safe car-ride later (no baby in the car), we arrived at B.C. Women’s Hospital in Vancouver. Checked in, and got checked out. The verdict: Liesel wasn’t ready to have the baby yet. So we were sent to the mall to walk around for a while. This, we dutifully did, at Oakridge Centre, and between contractions of varying strength and duration, we gazed at clothes, boots, sat and looked at photos of Spain, drank Coke, and perused the new Crate and Barrel. At one point I sat in a chair, remarked on its comfort, and advised Liesel to try it out. At the precise moment she was lowering herself into the chair, however, a contraction arrived and she leapt back to her feet! Blanca also had some good advice: “You probably shouldn’t sit in that chair. If your water breaks, you can’t afford it!” Bless her, but she was right.

We continued to walk. At Banana Republic (where I found a nice shirt for $20), things changed. Suddenly there was momentum. The intensity ratcheted up, and the regularity kicked in. This was labor as Liesel knew it. It was now about six o’clock. One last walk to get a cup of coffee and some water and we were heading to the hospital again (only a five minute trip this time). And I would like to say for the record that we arrived safely at the hospital without having a baby in the car. This is important.

The last part of the story—our swift descent and landing—tells quickly. We checked in, labored for a short while, got transferred to a room, and within about 2.5 hours had a baby. Pushing only lasted for about 7 minutes. Born at 8:27pm on Liesel’s birthday, Asa is 19.5 inches long and 7lbs 11ounces.

Now, for the name part of the story. Years ago, right about the time we got married, Liesel and I attended a church history overview Sunday School class at our church in Wheaton. The teacher, Dr. Timothy Larsen, in the course of his overview employed a verse from 2 Chronicles as a way to explain the Middle Ages. The verse was 2 Chronicles 15:17, a verse that summarized the reign of King Asa of Judah, and it said “But the high places were not removed from Israel; nevertheless Asa’s heart was blameless all his days.” Dr. Larsen used the verse to explain how the Middle Ages didn’t get everything right, but their hearts were right. We loved the explanation, but we also loved the name.

“Asa” means healer, and we love that King Asa had a blameless heart and that he was a man of his time. The 1 Kings 15:14 account of Asa’s reign also has a nice turn of phrase—in the NIV it says that “Asa’s heart was fully committed to the Lord all his life.” We hope that our Asa can be a committed healer in his time as well. But this brings us to his middle name, “St. John.” We’ve named him St. John after St. John Chrysostom, the fourth century church father and Archbishop of Constantinople. “Chrysostom” means “Golden mouth,” and it’s a nickname applied to John because he was, and is, widely regarded as one of the greatest preachers who has ever lived. You see, there are two parts of preaching—there is the exegesis of texts, and the exegesis of hearts. Some preachers are good at one, others are gifted at the other, but few excel—truly excel—at both. St. John was one who excelled at both, and it is one of the reasons why he is still readable today, even after 1600 years of time. St. John Chrysostom was a gifted communicator, but he was also bold. He stood toe-to-toe with rulers and powers and wouldn’t back down. His message, and his life, are timeless. So we gave his name to our son. We chose “Asa St. John” instead of “Asa Chrysostom” because the latter is, well, a mouthful. And we also chose to include the “St.” because, well, it keeps him from being an A.J. We didn’t want that.

Timeless is the last thing to say about Asa’s name. The verse that ran through Liesel’s head when she prayed about our little boy was Ecclesiastes 3:11, that “God has set eternity in the hearts of mankind.” In fact, it was a verse I read devotionally on the morning he was born (unplanned!). We want our Asa St. John to be a healer, to be blameless, to be a man of his time, and to speak boldly into his generation, to reveal what is eternal in changing times. We’re glad he’s here, and we’re excited to see who and what he’s going to become!