The Story of Gavin

On the occasion of Gavin's birth anniversary, I have decided to write up a (fair warning, not so short) history of his 7 years on this earth. I considered editing out some of the photos or descriptions, but all of these things are special to Gavin, as well as to Eli and me. I'd like to come back and look at this down the road, so it's all staying. :)

Gavin is what is known as a "rainbow baby." A rainbow baby is a child that was born following a miscarriage, stillbirth, neonatal death, or other infant loss. In nature the rainbow follows the storm, giving hope of better things to come; a promise from the heavens. To the general observer Gavin is our second child, when in reality he is our third. I still love and miss our second baby, though I was never able to hold him in my arms. He always occupies that place in my heart.

Gavin couldn't have been announced at a worse time in the opinions of others. Eli and I were losing our first home in 2008 when we found out about him; I had taken a break in the middle of of packing up boxes to take a pregnancy test. The joyful result was balm for my soul. During a new year already marked with some of the biggest losses of our young lives, it was the medicine I needed. The happiness filled in the cracks of my broken heart. We waited to tell others until we were settled into the tiny one bedroom apartment that would be our home for the next 8 months.

I was one month shy of my due date when we learned there was a rental house coming available a block down the street. We jumped on the opportunity, and soon were rushing to move before Christmas, before baby, and before more snow dumped itself on us.

The rental house needed a rigorous cleaning; the previous tenant had smoked inside, and had apparently owned a cat. As the disinfecting process began I was floored to find Glade plug-in air fresheners in every single electrical outlet in the living room. There were no fewer than six, I kid you not. Fluffs of feline hair floated around me while I maniacally scrubbed, vacuumed, and dumped copious amounts of baking soda on the green shag carpet. I couldn't reconcile myself with the thought of a baby crawling across it. My Mom so kindly volunteered a day to help, though she admitted to a hairy tickle in the back of her throat for quite some time after.

This house was a gem. The shag carpet butted up to scarlet low-pile carpeting in the dining area, the hue of which was so vibrant that if you walked across it with damp socks or stepped on any wet areas, it effectively stained socks (or skin) a hot pink color. The deep red of the carpet matched the linoleum counter tops in the kitchen (also with magic staining ability), while the turquoise and mustard linoleum kitchen flooring complemented the green shag. I reveled in the size of the bathroom, until I realized that scraping growing mushrooms (like those found on old tree stumps in the woods) from a cabinet by the tub was going to be part of a weekly bathroom cleaning ritual. My imagination developed an elaborate Koontz-and-King-worthy story of alien life forms plotting a hostile takeover, all built around a grape-sized projection of fungus. Oh the memories! Our landlord boasted proudly that his father had remodeled the house entirely by himself...in the late 1960's. This was the house we would bring our second son home to.

Prying myself from retro-memory-land here.... Having had an emergency C-section with Aidan, I ultimately decided to schedule a repeat C-section for Gavin's birth. This decision was one of the hardest I have ever made, but in the end seemed the safest option. Already Gavin was tipping the scales according to the ultrasounds, and for my short-torsoed self, having another emergency birth experience was very possible.

My pregnancy with Gavin went fairly smoothly, though it was during this pregnancy it was discovered I had a gestational blood disorder called thrombocytopenia. This condition causes low blood platelets, which are handy little things that clot your blood. Thrombocytopenia held an increased risk for me because Gavin's birth was going to be a C-section, and if my platelet count dropped too low there was risk of me bleeding out during the surgery. Most people have thrombocytopenia as a result of cancer. Therefore, my OB doctor scheduled monthly appointments for me at the Cancer Treatment Center an hour away to have my platelet count monitored. At every appointment when I'd take a seat in the waiting room, guilt would rip through me as I surveyed the number of people most likely fighting for their lives right beside me. I felt like the biggest fraud, noticing the furtive glances in my direction, at my large belly, and the soft kind smiles of pale, bald-headed patients who I imagined felt some kind of sympathy for me. I wanted to climb on top of the magazine-littered coffee table and yell at the top of my lungs, "I don't deserve your sympathy! Please don't feel bad for me, I'm going to be ok!" Every visit made me feel as though I had invaded an inner sanctum of desperate hope and grueling journeys. Thankfully, the moment Gavin was born my platelets began restoring themselves and a transfusion was never needed. I've had thrombocytopenia with every pregnancy since Gavin, and each time it's slightly more severe.

6 months

It was there in that waiting room that I began praying to St. Jude, for these fighting people and for my baby. These prayers were mingled with thoughts voiced in the accent of my Bulgarian hematologist. Chanting her name over and over in my mind had a strangely soothing effect: Boriana Kamenova. Boriana Kamenova. Boriana Kamenova.  It's strange, the impact stressfully waiting for long periods of time can have on your mind...and the pregnancy hormones. This litany inevitably brought to mind my high school years and my obsession with Russian authors, most notably Tolstoy. I decided to finally read Anna Karenina, finishing it a few short weeks before Gavin was born. Gavin narrowly escaped being named Ivan, though I also developed a fondness for the names Alexei, Alexandrovich, and Levin. 

9 months: 1/3 baby, 2/3 Little Debbie and Casey's pizza. I gained 45 lbs. with Gavin, though I still had 20 lbs. of Aidan's baby weight hanging around. Note the infamous carpet in the background.

Which brings me to how we named Gavin. Being an obsessive list-maker, I have kept baby-name lists since I was 10 years old. Thanks to these lists I knew I wanted my firstborn son's name to be Aidan James long before I even met Eli (good thing he agreed, huh?) At that time our girl name was still Madeleine Jo. As soon as "boy" was declared during the 21-week ultrasound, we started brainstorming. We agreed for his middle name he would take either Eli's middle name (Charles) or my Dad's name (Stephen). Armed with my name list and 50,001 Best Baby Names book, my OCD proclaimed Cavan as the definite name for our second son. It was Irish, like Aidan, and had been second on my list for quite a few years now.

Eli had other ideas, though. "It sounds too much like Kevin! What about Kyle? Or Christian?"

Ugh, no!

"I got it!" Eli declared excitedly, "He's going to be Eli Junior!"

No no NO! "You can't name a second son junior," I explained, trying to hide my panic.

"Oh yes, you can. We can do whatever we want," Eli countered. I had to change direction before this train completely derailed and we ended up with a Clarence. Cal for short.

Louis. I've always loved the name Louis. And Luke. Louis. Luke. Lucas? I like that. Lucas Stephen, and we'll call him Luke for short. I had a great uncle Louis and a cousin Luke and my Mom's side of the family was from St. Lucas. Eli even liked it, and so it was decided.

It's not Irish, snivelly old OCD whispered.

We went so far as to announce the name to our parents before doubts took over completely. It wasn't right; something felt off about it. Back to studying the baby name book, I poured over names waiting for one to jump out and slap me in the face before telling grams and gramps we were renaming their grandbaby already.

Gavin. Sounds like Cavan. Yes! Compromise! Scottish, not Irish...but still Celtic. Yes, Celtic works. Gavin Stephen did not work. No rolling off the tongue happening there. Gavin Charles. There we go. Who knew so much drama could be rolled up into such a situation? It seriously made me wonder how much thought others put into naming their children, and did they also have to feel that "aha!" feeling before deciding? Or do most people just settle? Maybe most people aren't as neurotic as I am?

Mind-numbingly early the morning of January 7, we loaded our bags into the Tahoe and dropped off a 21 month old Aidan at my parents. I had never known anxiety like this before. At least the hours leading up to Aidan's birth were spent in blissful ignorance of what was to come. Knowing the exact moment our lives were going to change forever, fear of the unknown, and unbidden thoughts of why in the world did I get myself in this position again! cluttered my mind in the hours before we became a family of four. It made matters a hundred times worse when the very anesthesiologist who had botched my epidural with Aidan (and then had screamed at me to hold still as I endured searing pitocin-fueled contractions) sauntered into the OR that morning, cracking jokes with the nurses like he wasn't about to shove an 8 inch needle into my spine. I almost lost it right there. Somehow I breathed my way through that one and as soon as I saw the squished red and unbelievably hairy face of baby Gavin, it was all over for me.  I was head over heels in love, a feeling that I did not experience right away when Aidan first came into the world. I know it sounds awful, but with Aidan it was more of a shocked, slow falling in love, mixed with what is this noisy creature that has hijacked my life? Whether it was because I didn't get to see or hold Aidan until he was 8 hours old, a difference in hormones, or lack of trauma the second time around, I suddenly understood how people could ever have more than one or two babies. That first day Gavin raised his head up off of my chest so that he could look at my face.

Gavin Charles Berst weighed in at 9 lbs. 4 oz and was a long 21 inches. Everyone said he looked a lot like Aidan had at birth, but with a rounder face, wider nose, and much more hair. He was also sporting a birthmark on his left eyelid. The night after he was born I enjoyed a glass of wine in our hospital room. I ordered the lasagna, a breadstick, and a salad from the hospital menu, and while Eli passed out on the fold-out couch, I scared myself silly watching Ghost Adventures into the wee hours of the morning.

Gavin was baptized at St. Philomena Mission January 25, 2009 by Fr. Abbet.

The first year of Gavin's life was marked with continued off-the-charts growth. The most peaceful baby I have ever had, I'd often have to wake him to get his feedings in. He was so content that he was the only one of our children that never slept in bed with us. He slept through the night in his bassinet, crib, and then bed every night since he was 2 months old. Gavin's weight has consistently been at the 110th percentile (although it doesn't even exist) and his height in the upper 90's. He grew so fast he barely had any baby months; he seemed to go from newborn to toddler in about four months. At one year old the scale hit 32.6 lbs; recently he passed his older brother by a pound, and now weighs a healthy 82.4 lbs at the age of just-turned-7. He really is our gentle giant. "You know why I'm so big?" he recently asked. "Because I eat a lot of vegetables." Food is one of his favorite things ever. We were talking one day about the differences in each one of us. I explained how God made Liam's ears stick out like they do, how He made Aidan with scary-long eyelashes, how He made Ian's eyes blue, and how He made Gavin with crazy-thick hair. "Yeah," Gavin added, "And He made me to want to eat a lot." The boy is built like a linebacker, I tell ya.

Making his older brother look small since 4 months old.

 His crawling stance is precisely why I used to call him our little bulldog. And the jowls.

In size 2T at 7 months old

Gavin (left) at 10 months old, wearing a tight 3T shirt that Liam comfortably wore at 2 1/2 years (right)

 18 month old Gavin, at this point in 4T clothes. I could only hold him like this for a few minutes at a time.

Wearing your food is almost as good as eating it

The only thing better than butter....

...is more butter (and yes, I'm cringing inside that I used to buy "fake butter")

But Mama, I couldn't resist the smell of fresh-baked bread!

Gavin was our earliest walker, taking his first steps at 10 months old. His first word was "Mama". At the age of 3 he was ring bearer in his godmother's wedding. Gavin is such a boy, with a contagious enthusiasm for fun, adventure, and exploration. He has no qualms about getting dirty, and is often the first to dive into things. He also has a sweet, goofy sense of humor. When he's excited he has no volume control, and he illustrates the level of excitement by how loud he gets.

Safety First!

Gavin Crayonhands

Batman helps cook around here

 You make it muddy, you scrubby

Exercising...

Before-bed exercises

Gavin driving the tractor with Grandpa

My croquet partner (the Bloody Mary was mine, by the way)

A favorite thing to do at Grandma and Grandpa's...barrel rolling

After Mass grass stains are pretty normal

Bottle feeding a calf for the first time

Playing cards is another favorite...wherever that may be! This time it was the garage.

Gav enjoys collecting all manner of mushrooms, insects, and other creatures and identifying them with the Field Guide

Gavin's brothers are his best friends, and I hope this will always stay true. The handy thing is that if one is out of sorts, there is another (or two) to fill in.

2010

2012

2014

Leaf angel

Don't mind Ian.... He's just wiping frosting all over the stove door.

When Gavin was 4 months old we adopted our Miniature Pinscher, Mojo, from a lady with MS who could no longer take care of him. Mojo was 9 months old, and an instant bond was formed between Gavin and him. They've been growing up together. To this day they are closer than any of the other boys. Often you can find them curled up together on the couch, Gavin absent-mindedly scratching Mojo's ears.

This photo was taken after Mojo ran away and didn't come home for 2 whole days. Gavin cried himself to sleep for 2 nights. When Mojo came back Gavin spent the majority of the day in his kennel with him, talking to him and hugging him.

These photos make Gav and Mojo's bond even more obvious. Mojo makes it a point to position himself closest to Gavin, and vice versa. There are so many more photos like this! 

Gavin has also been our most accident-prone child. He was 18 months old the first time we had to race anyone to the emergency room. We were getting ready to leave the house when he tripped and rammed his face into a metal kick-plate that had been pulled loose on the basement door. As soon as I picked him up I knew something was terribly wrong. There was blood everywhere, and his top lip had been split completely in half. I yelled to Eli we were leaving for the emergency room NOW and held a towel over his lip as I cradled him the entire trip. Always our stoic little man, Gavin barely whimpered as the doctor sewed his lip back together, and was smiling immediately after.

Things just happen to that boy that don't to his brothers. This may be in part due to the fact that he's always going 100 miles an hour.

Gav! Look out for that....

When he was 2 years old he raced into our bedroom and cut his face open on the corner of our dresser. It was so close to his eye, another centimeter and I'm sure he would have been blinded. The scar still graces his round little face.

When Gavin was 3 years old he crashed his tricycle (an extremely heavy vintage model) and succeeded in scraping the end of his toe off. I'm surprised that his toenails have regrown at all, as often as they've been ripped off (once pulled off by a slamming bedroom door).

When he was 5 years old he plowed head first into our also abnormally heavy, vintage dining room chairs while racing with his brothers. This resulted in a goose egg so large I almost raced him to the ER, but a quick call to Ask-a-Nurse saved me from it.

The same summer as the goose egg, Gavin got bored and decided to play piggy bank--by swallowing a penny. Thankfully he told me about it. The next two days were great penance for me as I was the one who had to make sure the penny passed successfully through his bowels. That baby got bleached, laminated, and taped into his baby book. Oh yes I did.

And of course, the incident of the tooth stuffed into an ear canal, recounted here, was all Gavin.

Gavin was the first of our boys to get cracked in the head with a baseball bat. Thankfully, as early as the newly-walking days, I taught myself how to check for concussions and what to watch out for.

As Gavin talks you can see his face dimpling around scars. Battle wounds of his boyhood. This beauty was the result of hurtling over a glass tile-topped end table.

I'll spare you some of the more graphic injury photos, but if someone was to scan this place with a black light, a murder investigation may be opened. They'd find that most of the blood is Gavin's.

Gavin has been so far the only one of our boys to need speech therapy. At the age of 3 even Eli and I did not understand much of what he was saying. He had developed and atypical speech impediment in which he would leave off the first consonant of a word. For example, "hat" was pronounced "at" by Gavin, but so was rat, bat, cat, sat, etc. We often found ourselves rhyming to decode his words. Within six months his speech had improved so much he no longer needed therapy. His speech is still thick, like he's talking around his tongue, and you can tell at times he struggles to say things properly. I've always thought he sounds somewhat like a Canadian Sean Connery. It's quite endearing, though I am biased.

Gavin is one of the biggest-hearted little guys I've ever met. He has a gift of entertaining little people and will gladly spend hours pulling them in wagons or sleds, pushing their swings, pushing them around in boxes or laundry baskets, and making a plethora of funny faces and sounds just to get them to laugh. He makes friends easily and is always the hugger at farewells. He also craves outward signs of affection. No matter how badly he has been hurt, a hug is enough to stem a tide of tears. He is always willing to help with anything (except making his bed, which is the bane of his existence).

Gavin and his new cousin Allison

New cousin Briggs

Gavin and Liam

Gav and Liam again...

and again...

again...

Ian! Both are rainbow babies

Oh Gavin, you make group photos so interesting...and prolonged

Comforter extraordinaire

He's such a workhorse!

Gavin looks so old here! He went through a "skinny phase" last summer while shooting up 4 inches before his weight caught back up.

Gavin and his cousin Monty also share a peculiar bond. Though she lives in Ohio and they've only met a handful of times, whenever together they are inseparable.

Gavin's favorite thing is anything having to do with trains. He was so excited that both houses we wanted to buy had great views of train tracks, and he has a role model in his uncle Jim who works for the railroad. Even now we live just a couple blocks from the tracks, and he'll run to a window or out to the yard to watch trains pass with rapt attention. "That's a diesel engine, Mom," he'll inform me. Fittingly, his favorite character is Thomas the Train, although he also likes Batman and Lego anything. He loves building things and I can see a mechanical or engineering profession in his future. Reading is not his strong point, but he can complete several pages of math problems in just a few minutes.

When I asked Gavin what some of his favorite things were, his response was: "Um, besides Thomas, right? Welp, my favorite colors are green and blue. And playing, playing games, playing outside in the snow, playing with my cousins, visiting Grandma, going to far-away Church (the seminary), moving to a new house, and um, that's about it."

Our tradition here is to let the birthday boy pick out his cake and birthday meal. This year Gavin again picked his favorite cake, which is strawberry--and the new addition of chocolate layers--with cream cheese frosting. I thought I may have the leaning tower of confections here, but it worked.

And his favorite meal? Pizza Hut stuffed crust sausage pizza. Thank you, Gavin. I needed that break after building your tower cake. :)

Happy 7th Birthday, Gavin! Mom and Dad love you so so much!

2009

Just turned 1

Just turned 2

Age 3!

Age 4!

I had the flu on his actual birthday...so he got a store cake until his birthday party

Age 5!

Age 6!

And now 7!