What Shall I Do? Where Shall I Go?

I used to dream of my career. I imagined that I would walk through college, earn some advanced degrees, go to work in industry, then set up my own laboratory where world-changing inventions would pour out. I didn’t really have a clear idea on the inventions; many of the inventions I had when I was young such as the break-away traffic sign or the levitating train, or jet-pack were invented by the time I got to college.

My dreams were further disrupted when I returned from a mission and discovered that I did that I did not have the same drive that I had before my mission. I wasn’t even certain that I wanted to be in chemical engineering. However, I stayed the course, finishing my bachelor’s degree and in some fit of hubris, undertaking a PhD program while still an undergraduate.

Eleven years later, after a detour for a master’s degree and a slow march through my PhD program, I finally finished school. The last seven years, I had in part supported me and my family by doing consulting work. After graduation, I modified my already derailed dreams by not going to industry but attempted to start my own business.
This was not done in a vacuum, but rather a planned expansion of the consulting effort we had already started while I worked on my graduate degree. My advisor, Dean Douglas Smoot, was a recognized expert in combustion and had been approached from time to time in various consulting exercise. He shared the opportunity with his graduate students. I was particularly effective and was able to apply a variety of approaches to solving problems. Indeed, we were so successful, that the amount of work increased and we shared the work with another graduate student, Craig Eatough.

So when I completed gradate school, it was natural to expand the consulting effort to a full-time occupation. As a safety net, I also accepted a post-doctroal position that paid me for half time labor.

The jobs slowly tricked in. According to my partners, it appeared that jobs arrived when the Kramer family needs to be fed and clothed. The consulting jobs were varied. The jobs included working at the steel mill, analyzing blast furnace gases, going to a recycling outfit near a coal country dump and reviewing their gasification process. I can’t remember all of the jobs. I’m trying not to include jobs accomplished previously. A key observation was and is that there were not many opportunities. I recall many days with little to do except seek work, which I did not know how to do. It was very discouraging to look at the wall.

Business did increases little by little. Craig and I thought it useful to incorporate. We formed and LLP and sent letters out announcing the significant occasion. We started exploring off-campus locations. Slowly we were acquiring the trappings of a business.

But it didn’t feel quite right when we started the business. I had made the commitment to myself that I would try to make it grow for three years. The three years were coming to a close and it wasn’t really taking off or going somewhere. We had trouble detailing a business plan or a core competency, or a definite direction. It felt that we were at the mercy of the futures and directions of local businesses.

I also felt that Utah Valley had been our home long enough. I enjoyed my associations with non-members in various organizations, and Utah County did not provide much opportunity in that area. My wife and I had served in several positions in the church, loved our associations with the members, had grown tremendously as individuals, and a family, and…it felt like time to leave.

I discussed these impressions with my wife. She was in general agreement. Neither of us had a plan or a direction. I also discussed this with a ember of the stake presidency who had been our bishop earlier. I brought it up as we were driving somewhere together, . He agreed with my impression that our family should leave Utah County, that indeed the Kramer Family had a mission elsewhere.

The difficulty was where? I had no job offers, not even a direction as to how to look.

With a timing that comes from God, Bill Sowa called on the behalf of Pratt and Whitney (company that designs and builds airplane engines), to see if I was interested in exploring an opportunity with Pratt and Whitney in Florida. With a positive frame of mind, I accepted a trip to Florida to interview – P&W to interview me and me to interview them.

The trip to Florida was very pleasant. I arranged to have extra time to visit the area, as well as, to drive across the state to visit an uncle that I had only seen twice before. I enjoyed my interactions with the individuals at Pratt – they seemed genuinely willing to help. There was a good spirit. Florida was also much different that I expected. Instead of it being all country clubs and manicured estates, much of it was country with pine trees in the yards. And my visit with my uncle and his family was wonderful.

Sealed by the Hand of the Lord

The stories of how I met my wife could be made into a TV series. I might tell a few of them elsewhere. Somehow, someway, we got together and decided to get married.

There are no checklists by for that decision, no flashing lights that tell you that you have made the right choice, no letter from the President of the Church to tell you hat you have been called to spend the rest of your life and all of eternity with that certain person.

Indeed, the uncertainty of whether the choice was the right one or not can plague a relationship. My being is analytical and able to consider so many alternatives certainly let me to various considerations. We got engaged in steps. We had a pre-engagement engagement when we were in Yellowstone. I declared by love – or rather that I thought I could lover her – to Julie. That led to a period where I tested my own faithfulness and intent. And for that period, my thoughts and heart were loyal to Julie. So I asked her to marry me, for her hand in marriage, on her birthday at her parents’ house in Kaysville.

That led to a brief but effective engagement period. August 9th to November 19th of 1982 is three months and ten days. And I kept tack of each day and each hour. During that time, we had the choice to talk with 5 bishops. Her parents finished a room in the basement, and we found a house, a home to live in. All those are worthy of stories themselves, as well.

I wan t to focus on the marriage, the wedding, the sealing, itself. It came up quickly. I was still in school and working. Julie was teaching. The arrangements were made. We would go to the Jordan River Temple for Julie’s endowment or Thursday the 18th. , On the 19th Ivy and Bruce Gilchrist would host a wedding breakfast, followed by the sealing ceremony at the Jordan River Temple at 11:00 AM. An open house was to scheduled to follow at Julie’ parent’s house that night. The following week was Thanksgiving which we were to take off.

The first indication of something special was happening took place at the veil for the endowment ceremony. I was pretty confident of my ability to handle all of the parts of the temple ceremony. However, at the veil, as part of the ceremony, it was revealed to me clearly as a voice whispering in my ear that my Julie and I were to be together, husband and wife.

The time to savor the moment was brief. I had to run back down to Provo to participate in a flag football tournament game. Members of our singles ward played together on that cold frosty evening.

Another of life’s little miracles happened that evening. We had not ordered the wedding rings until after we had been engaged. Even though the design was simple, it was unique in white gold and we despaired of having the ring before the wedding. I called that day and learned that the set was ready. But I could not get to the store before it closed. The owner, very graciously, a Ron Wilson, I recall, offered to have me come by his house to pick up the rings. So in conjunction with the football game, I was able to pick up the rings.

It made for an interesting wedding breakfast. I showed it to my Mom and Julie’s sisters to gain their help in giving it to Julie. I don’t recall the stratagem that was used to give it to her. I do remember her delight and surprise and how she was so astonished to get it. She was truly grateful and happy. We put them back into the ring cases for after the sealing ceremony.

At the temple, I asked to speak with a member of the temple presidency. I asked him if what happened at the veil the day before was planned or expected. He was able to tell me, as I know now, that there was no special veil procedure for couples who are getting married.

With that puzzling me, we went to the sealing room. Julie Appeared, lovely in her temple-worthy bridal gown and temple clothes. We sat together on a bench, facing the sealer. As he began to talk, two things of significance happened. Fist, he repeated key advice that had been given to us by every bishop – and we had talked with five of them during our engagement. This advice focused on communication and listening. And he didn’t touch on it briefly, but expounded on it. I hope I have heard and heeded the message.

The second thing that happened, impacted me eternally. In the sealing rooms of the temples are mirrors facing each other, creating reflections that go on beyond what can be seen and counted. As the sealer spoke, my mind was opened and a vision was given me where I saw the future and the past, my ancestors and my descendents. I saw how I was a pat of a great chain, a linkage, a network. I saw how we are all connected and mostly importantly, I saw that we were all part of a plan, and that the Lord had a plan for me, Julie and our family. We had been prepared for that moments, and our family and children were part of his eternal plan.

The vision was brief. It lasted an eternity and my mind did not comprehend it all. I did not see it all. Yet it seemed to open and close in just a few moments.

The rest of the ceremony was beautiful and wonderful. I listened to the words as I knelt across the alter from my soon-to-be wife and understood the words much better than ever before. We stood and exchanged rings, which is not part of the ordinance, but allowed me to stand close to this wonderful woman who had agreed now and forever, past and future to be my wife, to help me, for me to help her. The rings were exchanged, as was a sweet kiss.

We got through the rest of the day without getting hurt. I say this because there was such a calm , a sweet joy that filled us that I, at least, was not extremely focused. We got into Julie’s little, red, under-powered Mustang, got our luggage, checked into the hotel in Salt Lake City, then traveled up to Kaysville, where the open house was being held at Julie’s parents’ home. We were surrounded by friends, my best man, Bill Waite, our families, brothers, sisters, cousins, uncles, and aunts. We enjoyed an evening of visits. We sorted and recorded the gifts. Finally, when it was very late, we made our way back to the hotel and our life together.

The sealing ceremony was a miracle- repeated in temples were to clarify to me the miracles was gain how things worked together, from ring to breakfast, to ceremony to reception and all things flowed together.

The greater miracle and one for which I am grateful beyond words was the revelations to my ears, my mind, my heart and my spirit that a right choice had been made, that Julie and I were a team and had been so prepared from before the world was and that God cared enough to let this even analytical, questioning person know.

Free Education

I don’t know if all children are so self-focused, but I suppose many of them are. Food appears on a table, clothes are provided, and the warmth of a home surrounds them. The financial situations of parents are rarely shared with the children.

My parents always seemed to have enough. We went on long vacations to Yellowstone, my step-dad purchased all types of recreation equipment, tucks, jeeps, campers and trailers. Y mom always made sure we had food and clothes.

Still, I suspected things were tight, and in the few discussions we had, my mother wasn’t certain how to pay for my college. She was helping with Mark, as well as with my grandfather who had a home conveniently located in Provo.

So I applied for scholarships. Miracles occurred. Somehow, I did well on the NMPQSAT. The testing board advised me to take the SAT on the chance that I might win a scholarship. The short story is that I took the test and I won a scholarship, but there are more angles in it that that.

When I registered for the ST, I was faced with the choice of testing locations. Students in Utah did not typically take the SAT, rather, the preferred tests for Western schools wa the ACT. I don’t remember the choices I was offered in the application process., but either the week did not work or the location was miles away. So I chose two locations that might work – the University of Utah high school and Dugway Proving Grounds, where the Army had a post.

Of course, in the beauty of bureaucracies somehow I was assigned to take the SAT at the Dugway Proving Grounds site rather than the University of Utah. I didn’t know how to change the venue. Instead, my step-dad – having taken away my driving privileges due to an accident between the Blazer and a gate at the high school – drove me across the valleys of Utah on that quiet Saturday morning.

I met the double handful of fellow students there to take the test. They were from the post. I was the outsider. I enjoyed meeting a few of the kids, then went into the tent in a rather peaceful, outside-of-myself frame of mind and proceeded to ace the test. I’m not sure the location helped, but it didn’t hurt. I was later notified that I had won a $2500 scholarship.

Other things occurred in the meantime. I had applied for a scholarship at Brigham Young University, interviewed, and was notified that I was a finalist for the Spencer W. Kimball Scholarship, the most prestigious scholarship at BYU. As part of the decision process, I was invited to a Friday/Saturday finalists’ competition to be held at a BYU-owned cabin up by Sundance.

I was driven down to campus in Provo. Others flew in. We spent Friday on the third floor of the Wilkinson Center. There were twenty-five of us male finalists. Surprisingly, one of them was a young man from Dugway who took the test at the same time I did.
Another was a _____ Hyatt whose father had been friends with my father (Walter Kramer), and whose home I had visited. There was an indoor pool, so I felt welcome to start with.

Friday was a series of situations – a few of us in a room with several faculty members, given a scenario, and allowed to discuss in the group or work alone, and present or explore various responses. Our scenario was - we were trapped in a _________________ cave in, we designed a campaign for BYU’s next century, we evaluated the importance of various priorities to us.

Friday night was special. We went to the lodge. The professors left, and we associated with each other. These were young men of capability and faith - intelligent, capable, athletic, artistic leaders. These were the individuals that were student body leaders, geniuses. I was humbled and uncertain in their company.

We were given a packet of materials for our last scenarios for the following morning. We all spent some time studying. We found beds, played pool and ping-pong. We talked and ate.

The following morning, we gathered together for a testimony meeting, a sharing meeting. NO advisors, no counselors, just us – 25 finalists. Individuals would stand, some to bear strong knowledge of the truth, some to express their uncertainty. I sat and watched, looking go outside at the woods, feeling the quietness, _____ filled with the light. My mind expanded to see the nature and the world and the universe…a testimony of it all. God, the God of the universe and of this world and of the forests, trees, and flowers was real and His influence could be clearly seen by any with eyes to see. I bore that testimony.

We packed and returned to the university. We spent the rest of the morning supporting a candidate for public office. Each of us had a candidate. Each of us was challenged to support them. There were strong candidates. Mine wasn’t that strong. I couldn’t portray him as what he wasn’t. I listened as my fellow-scholarship candidates and competitors ___ their political candidates and themselves, and I didn’t know what to say. Until I realized that I could promote compromise. My candidate’s weaknesses became his strengths. I argued that he had not offended the groups that were promoting the other candidates. Though no decision was reached before we finished, the purpose was accomplished. The faculty and advisors saw us interact.

I returned home, received a letter from the Chemical Engineering Department that I would receive a $500 a semester scholarship. And then in February, I received notification that I had won the Kimball Scholarship.

When I graduated, I didn’t speak as valedictorian or salutarian. I had received one B+ which reduced my grade to 3.97 and my position from #1 to#5 in a class of over 750 . I sat in the audience. But the principal made me stand. He singled me out for my service for the scholarships I had won, and how I had performed academically in such an outstanding fashion that he had never seen before. I was completely embarrassed.

And able to pay for my college. Fall tuition from the Kimball scholarship, the $2500 grant from the National Merit Foundation, and the semester-by-semester stipend from Chemical Engineering.

I still had to take part time jobs to account for all the other expenditures. But I never cost my parents any money for my university education.

My Mothers Story

My mother was left single with four small children at the age of twenty-eight. That is not the start of her story, but definitely the forging of who she is.

Ivy Josephine Hill was probably not so much rebellious as she was head-strong and eager to move into adulthood. I have seen the same with my children.

My Father, WalterAllen Kramer, was seven to eight years her senior. I understand he was considered quite the catch in the Pasadena (California) Ward. A recently-returned missionary, tall, good singer, piano player, and a great story teller.

I don’t have details of courtship or early marriage. I understand there were tough times. I remember warmth and welcome.

Whatever the situation, my mom was left alone when my father died. I can imagine now the impact it must have had on my mother. I have seen other single moms struggle with the finances, with the requirement of work and family. Most single moms I have dealt with have had only a child or two. My mother had 4, the youngest was 3 years old.

My mother had not really started her college education . She had dabbled and dreamed, but hadn’t taken any substantial coursework. She had no salable skills. I’m not certain how she found the jobs she did – receptionist, secretary, but I do recall and now know that her income was insufficient to maintain the home. I don’t know where she obtained the money to pay the monthly bills – family? Church? I know we had food from the bishop’s storehouse.

I do remember it being stressful for my mom and for us as children. There was a lot more crying and arguing a lot more clamoring for attention from the sole adult.

It was a miracle that brought my step-dad into our family. Mom and Dad told the story so sweetly. It was a dance that neither of them wanted to go to . My mother was persuaded by a friend. My dad - by the Spirit. They saw each other, they danced, and they eventually got married. Yes, there were a few dates in there. Yes, my step-dad met all four of us children. Yes, my step-dad had four other grown children from his first marriage. These boys never lived with us, all of them were old enough that the eldest was married the same week as my mother married Bruce Gilchrist.

I am sorry I know so little about it. Because it was a miracle, I know without a question that I would not be who I am without my step-dad. I can suppose having seen other single mother’s struggles that we would not have been able to stay in the home I grew up in . We would have challenged my mother incessantly. We would have had challenges throughout our schooling.

The three sons of Walter and Ivy Kramer went on missions. The oldest son, Mark, is a physicist at the Air Force Weapons Lab . I manage combustor technology at Pratt and Whitney. Richard has become a chief software developer nurse at a health care. Marsha is a judge. Richard and I are active in the church. Mark and Marsha are not.

I believe in results. And the results are my brothers and my sisters and our children. I can only be immensely grateful.

Babies are miracles, Take 3

I don't know that we thought it specifically, but by the time we got to our third pregnancy, we were feeling fairly comfortable and even experienced in the process. We thought we knew what we doing. We weren't proven wrong, just gently reminded that there was much we didn't know and gently reminded how blessed we had been, of the miracles the previous pregnancies and deliveries had been.

The reminder started with a few drops of blood. Julie noticed staining in her fifth or sixth month of pregnancy. Such are precursors of miscarriage rather than of a successful pregnancy. Our physician had been monitoring the growth of this child as he did the others. All had seemed fine. This spotting worried him. He sent us to have an ultrasound.

Ultrasounds were still fairly new at this time. They were not offered at every OB/GYN, but only at special radiology centers. We went there, were greeted by the nurse, technician, and doctor. The ultrasound was an event. I watched the screen and the procedure with great interest. The grey lines were mostly unintelligible to me. Occasionally, recognizable shapes would come into focus and align on the screen. A head, an arm, a hand. We learned what I already knew - that it was a boy. We couldn't really identify anything wrong. Perhaps there was a slight separation between the sack and the uterine wall.

We left relieved. Jefferson had already impressed himself on our minds as an energetic baby - he kicked and moved more than his older brothers had. He had received his name, after the usual consideration and thought, in honor of my most constant best friend growing up - Jeff Smith - as well Thomas Jefferson. His middle name had the triple conjunction of being in remembrance of the Clark family of Lewis and Clark fame, Jerry Clark who I played basketball with in our Orem ward, and as containing letters similar to those in my middle name. The Clark family was brought to my attention while attending a Tau Beta Pi national convention in Louisville, Kentucky the October before Jefferson was born. The town had been founded by the Clark of Lewis and Clark and named after his friend and partner. An interesting note, Jefferson has chosen a career in the military like Clark, is getting a degree in Chemical Engineering like Jeff Smith and me, and is focused on medicine like Jerry Clark.

Jefferson continued demonstrating his strong minded nature before his birth. Energetic kicks, movements, and a tendency to be extremely active in the early hours of the morning. We later learned to mark the times the babies were most active because it appeared to correlate with when the delivery would occur.

It this case we were correct. Julie had experienced late night/early morning Braxton-Hicks contractions again. She was more relaxed about my inconsistent responses to her requests to time her contractions. She had more faith that I would wake up. Then one morning, before the due date, the contractions became real. As I timed the contractions and watched them accelerate quickly, we realized we had to leave soon. Following the advice of our doctor given after the birth of David Seth, we called our Doctor at home. We then opened the door to upstairs to notify Richard and Heidi and discovered activity already afoot. Apparently a gerbil had escaped and the search was on. Why they were looking so early in the morning I can't recall. But they were ready to watch over Jacob and David Seth.

We hurried to the hospital and Julie made her way to the third floor, pausing with each contraction. Dr. MacArthur made it with time to check on Julie. We all prepared, and the delivery became serious. Jefferson led with a hand instead of just a head. He came out, squalling and kicking. At a check-up later, it was noted that he probably broke a collarbone during the delivery.

Jefferson's positive struggling behavior was on display from birth. We noted that he had a droopy eyelid. We explored several options with our pediatrician, who happened to lead the pediatric association of the area and was widely recognized as one of the best, if not the best pediatrician in the valley. It was decided to perform an MRI. We took him to the radiology section of the hospital. For the procedure to be successful, Jefferson would have to be asleep. A soporific was administered by a suppository. He repushed it. We pondered what to do. We were uncertain as to how much had been absorbed. We waited a moment, and then tried again. This time, it was successful. I offered to go in with him and watch over him. I felt the powerful pull of the magnet. I reviewed the projections on the screens of technicians. I couldn't see anything wrong. After analysis by the radiologist, he couldn't find anything specifically wrong either. Jefferson was OK.

And that was the miracle. Despite the indications that something could be wrong, we discovered that all was well. We also learned Jefferson was a fighter. And that he was meant to be in our family. That he fought to be in our family. And all would be alright.

It is interesting that the child with the earliest experiences with radiology should, at least at the present time, desire to be a radiologist.

Babies are miracles

Every childbirth is a miracle; I don't want to give any impression to the contrary. However, for us there have been additional miracles, small ones, that accompanied each birth.

Jacob's for instance, our first. We did not go into childbirth innocently or ignorantly, we went in after study and prayer. While Julie was still employed at school, we investigated what her insurance covered and what it didn't. We carefully planned the date so that Julie could complete the school year, and surprise! It worked out.

For anyone that has ever tried to have children, it is a miracle, perhaps a small one, that everything worked out when dealing with the incredible powers of heaven and nature. Those powers don't so much as laugh at man's attempts to control them, as they ignore them except when aligned with their purposes. Yet everything worked in our situation - which as much speaks to our humility as to our planning.

The day - as hoped - was drawing nigh. We had made all the prenatal visits, attended the birthing classes, and practiced the breathing exercises. We had notified the insurance, and had notified the hospital. We were anxious, and scared, in a good way, like going away to college, only scarier. Julie, though still incredibly positive, was weary with carrying the extra weight.

A family in the ward saw Julie's fatigue and invited us to dinner after church. We thankfully accepted. We entered their lovely home, sat down to the well prepared meal, bowed our heads to give thanks, and Julie grabbed my leg. She had had a few twinges before, but her tight squeeze of my knee let me know that these twinges were significant. I noted the time and we went on with the meal, without telling our hosts.

When we returned to our basement home, we mostly sat around waiting for the pains to become more intense and closer together. We had completed preparations well before this day. I remember, perhaps incorrectly, in a tradition followed with the other deliveries when possible, Julie took a shower.

Being nervous, and not really wanting to focus on anything else, I started graphing the time between contractions and the length of contractions. I recorded the times on my green engineering pad and drew a plot below. The afternoon passed slowly into evening and then into night. We didn't want to go to bed, but were fairly sure we weren't quite ready for delivery. So we meandered to the hospital, went to the third floor, and were placed in an examination room by the nurse. The nurses laughed at my plot as they hooked up Julie to sensors and analytical equipment that printed out a strip of paper showing the contractions. They left her and me as we settled in.

Towards midnight, I left Julie to go downstairs to complete the paperwork to sign us in. By doing so at midnight we avoided a whole day's worth of charges. Being on edge and somewhat giddy, I visited with the admissions aide, and returned to my wife after about 20 minutes. She was not happy. The birth had progressed to where the pains were quite painful - and she was alone.

She did not let me step out of the room again. Julie held my hand tightly and had me work with her on her breathing. It was a good thing that we had taken the class and had practiced the exercises - we used them extensively. Originally we were to decide during the birth if Julie needed an epidural, but once we got into the rhythm of breathing and the struggle of birth, we could never take our focus off the process of birth.

What a miracle! What a struggle! What a daunting task! The joy of welcoming the new spirit into the world overshadows and obscures the incredible struggle that precedes the birth. The hand of the Lord was evident in the support that Julie received during the delivery. It is not easy.

Julie was exhausted when Jacob finally was born. The doctor and the nursing crew handle the birth, helping the baby out, helping the mother with afterbirth, sewing her up, cleaning her up, and making sure she is well. There is a special team that is just for the baby. They take the infant from the birthing crew, clean the baby up, clean the baby out if the child had swallowed any fluid, check its vitals, check its non-vitals, check its color, put it under a heat lamp, wrap it up, and perhaps then give the newborn to the parent.

And I gave Jacob to Julie. By that time she had already admonished me not to think about having other children for a long while, squeezed my hand, told me that she loved me, drifted off to sleep, and woke up again, just enough to hold the baby. Julie smiled, tiredly, but with a sweetness beyond that ever painted on a madonna. She didn't have the energy to hold Jacob long, but treasured him and rejoiced in him and told me how sweet he was.

I returned the baby to the nursery staff, and watched while they weighed and measured Jacob. I returned to Julie, and watched her a while as she slept. I wandered down to the gift shop and cafeteria and considered buying something, and as usual, decided not to do so. I returned to Julie's room, napped a little in the uncomfortable chair by the bedside, waited till she stirred again, then took my leave and returned to our basement home.

I also made a lot of early morning calls to various family members while still at the hospital. I knew that everyone would come and visit Julie. I showered, I believe I went to work at the lab at BYU, then as I returned to visit Julie, I went and purchased a beautiful perfect red rose - artificial but gorgeous. I wanted it to be a reminder to us of our love.

The miracle? That everything worked out. It may seem so trivial, so mundane, but I am so thankful that everything did work out. My beautiful wife had a beautiful baby, and I know that is a miracle.

Another miracle happened during Julie's pregnancy. Or rather a special gift was given. I can not remember when during the pregnancy it occurred, but I was given a dream. In this dream, I saw a blond, blue-eyed young man holding a very young, red-headed girl on his lap. I was given knowledge that these were my oldest and youngest children. There wasn't much more to my dream than that. But the dream impacted me enough that I told Julie about it when we woke up.

And it has come to pass.

Babies are miracles, Take 2

Having had one child made having the second less of an adventure - or so one would think. Yet our experience showed that every time Julie ventured into the Valley of Death to give birth there were unique concerns and challenges.

David was the first child we had to pay for ourselves, he further set the pattern for the naming we followed, and he challenged my wife's confidence in my ability to wake up in the middle of the night. And conversely, she challenged my chances at getting a good nights rest.

With Jacob, the expenses of the birth were covered by the insurance she enjoyed as a school teacher. We made a choice prior to Jacob's birth that Julie would not work after Jacob's birth. So for over a year we had been depending on my salary as a graduate student. While sufficient, it wasn't excessive. And the costs of having a child exceeded our budget.

At that time, in Provo, there were several insurance agents who marketed insurance policies to BYU students specifically on the strength of their maternity coverage. I worked with one such agent and we identified an insurance policy where we could pay a minor amount and if we had a child within a year or so, our 'investment' would be returned many times over. These insurance companies that provided these coverages learned to treat Utah County separately from the rest of the nation and so this approach only worked with David and Jefferson and maybe McKenna but certainly did not work with Adams and N'Krysta.

But with the finances mostly handled for David, at least as long as I could make the monthly payments, we could have a baby. For me, the anticipation of waiting for the birth of our children was much, much better than any Christmas. Every child was and is a gift greater than any other that could be received.

Part of the fun of the wait was the naming of the child. Interestingly enough, unlike the other children, the names of Jacob and McKenna were gifts. I don't know when I was given the name of Jacob for our first born, but it was during a time of trial and is linked directly to the Book of Mormon. Jacob would be my 'first-born in the wilderness', and is linked to Lehi's blessing to his son explaining opposition and the source of joy. These are key to me and my testimony. I gave him the name of Karl to link with me and to represent strength.

McKenna was given to my wife. We were watching a film 'Somewhere in time', and as we watched the credits, as we traditionally do, Julie saw someone with McKenna as a last name. It immediately struck her as a good name to give our first daughter. I think she was pregnant at the time with Jacob, and I believe that she thought it might be applied to the child she carried. I knew better since I knew our first child was to be a boy. Which I thought was a good thing since I thought McKenna was a little different for a girl. I knew enough of Gaelic to know that Mc or Mac meant son of. I was also aware of an actress named MacKenzie Phillips who did not have the best reputation.

Julie would not be swayed from McKenna . As I considered her name, I wanted to link it with Julie, so we added Anne, with an “e” so as to be symmetrical with the last four letters of McKenna. It still didn't sound right, so a Hope tagged along. So the final meaning of the name, as freely interpreted by me, was 'child of knowledge, gracious, with hope'.

The amount of work used for the first child's name was replicated for the second one. We had a name for a girl, McKenna, but no name for a boy. Since I had taken the lead on Jacob, I let Julie lead on the second. She chose David. She had been warmly welcomed by my uncle David at her first family gathering and her first Yellowstone family reunion. She had always liked the name David. It was no matter to her that besides an Uncle David on my mom's side, I had a cousin David as well, and an Uncle David on my father's side.

For me, David carried biblical connotations as well. David, while beloved, did have a serious flaw. I did not want my son to have any flaws. While playing around with the name, chewing on it so to speak, the name Seth came to mind. Seth was a perfect man. Seth also contains four of the first five letters of Stephen. I wanted to mix David and Seth. I ran Seth David past Julie. I tried hyphenations. I tried other names and combinations. Julie would have none of it. David Seth it was.

So with the work that was performed to arrive at the names David and McKenna, a pattern was set. Jefferson and N'Krysta were follow-ons to those first efforts that primarily took place while waiting for David.

David was a lesson in the difference between Braxton-Hicks and real contractions. Sometime in late January or early February, Julie woke me up sometime between 1 and 3 am. 'Stephen, I am having contractions. Do you think I am going to have the baby?' Now, that is a question that is hard for the husband to answer. I knew it was very early and so the baby would be in danger if Julie was truly in labor. I quizzed Julie about how the contractions felt. She had another. Not knowing what else to do, I started timing her contractions. Sixteen minutes apart. The contractions did not get any closer together. After another 4 or 5 contractions, the contractions faded away. We returned to sleep.

The contractions returned the next night. Again in the early hours of the morning. Again Julie woke me. Again I timed her contractions. Again they faded away. Finally I could return to slumber.

The pattern was set. Julie would feel the pains, grab me to awake me, have me time the contractions, and after a handful of contractions or more, we would return to slumber. We learned from her physician that these were probably Braxton-Hicks, her body getting ready for the delivery of the baby.

I was willing to let it go like that - Julie's body was getting ready. I didn't need to help. However, Julie was not as convinced. She trusted timing the progression of the contractions more than the doctor's opinion. She wanted me to be awake to time her.

We made all necessary preparations. Julie packed a suitcase. I timed how long it would take to get to the hospital (18 minutes). We reviewed and practiced the breathing exercises. We arranged for Richard and Heidi to take care of Jacob.

And nightly, the contractions returned. I confess - I stopped waking up. Apparently I would still respond coherently, if not necessarily logically. And I wouldn't open my eyes to time Julie's contractions.

This did not comfort Julie. She redoubled her efforts to awake me. Which worked for a while, but even then, I stopped waking up, or if I did, I would fall asleep again. She tried to motivate me in the morning, pleading that, even though it was a false alarm that night, maybe the next night it would be real. Her arguments, though persuasive at breakfast, were much less effective at 2 am.

Julie had become seriously concerned about waking me up. She explored having Richard take her to the hospital. I assured her that I would be capable and ready. Doubting, but loving, she worried quietly.

I was right. One morning at about the usual time, I heard, 'Stephen, I think my waters broke.' I was out of the bed before Julie was. My subconscious did the necessary triage and waked me. I remember even thinking that in a waterbed such as we had, Julie's amniotic fluid would run down and puddle under me. My reactions were quick and sure. I was dressed and ready to head to the car. Julie, however, felt that she had to take a shower. Then she got dressed and put on some makeup. And went to get her suitcase. I had notified Richard and Heidi, pulled the wet sheets off the bed and was anxious to get going.

We left, finally. The streets were empty. We arrived at the third floor of the hospital, and were immediately escorted to a birthing room. We had pre-registered, having learned from our experience with Jacob. We had them call our doctor. And Julie proceeded with the contractions and labor. Our doctor, Steven MacArthur, made in time to perform the delivery and sew Julie up. David was born.

Our doctor asked us to call him before we left the house the next delivery. I guess he wanted to be there when we had the babies, rather than arriving to congratulate us afterward.

Another baby, another miracle. At least in my wife’s eyes, since I was awake enough to take her to the hospital!