fresh out of the oven

(Insert from Zach's family letter)

Wahoo! Rockwell Peter Hutchins made his way into mortality at 12:27 MST on Friday, May 18,
2018. Score one more for the plan of salvation; this was, in sports terms, one more point for
God’s side, in running up the score from the war in heaven. For those in my readership who are
NBA fans, he’s an even better human victory cigar than Darko Milicic.
Alana spent most of the past week trying to work her way into labor; she saw a chiropractor, a
masseuse, and on Thursday at her OBGYN appointment, she asked the doctor to “strip her
membranes.” She attended a Relief Society spa night on Thursday, and when she came home, I
persuaded her to go with me for a short jog. We went to bed without any real progress, but one
hour later—at 11:15 PM, she woke up with contractions. I’m claiming the credit for the jogging,
but there were a lot of women who showed up at the hospital that night, and the nurses were
talking up a change in barometric pressure as the reason. Hey, at least it’s literary: “It was a
dark and stormy night . . .”
Alana endured seven hours of labor before asking for an epidural around 6AM. About five, just
before she climbed into a tub for pain relief, she said, “My decision making tree sucks!”
Essentially, she was frustrated that no epidural meant a quicker end to labor but continued
pain; pain relief would come with a prolonged labor, because she’s learned from past
experience that she doesn’t progress very quickly once an epidural comes. Since Rockwell (like
Lincoln before him) was sideways, Alana just couldn’t push him out, despite 90 minutes of
valiant effort. Dr. Grove pulled out the vacuum (really just a small suction cup) to give her a
little help, and out he flew. He’s wonderful to hold, and our children are still lining up, four days
later, clamoring for a chance to hold him.
The Relief Society President, Natalie Cook, came over early Friday morning, and she stayed with
the kids until I made it home from the hospital, about 3PM. I brought everyone to the hospital
Saturday morning, then returned Saturday night for a fancy dinner that the hospital offers to
new parents, while a wonderful couple from the ward (he has been our home teacher; she’s in
the RSPncy with Alana) stayed with the kids.

Matthew 16:18(KJV)

18 And I say also unto thee, That thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.

Not quite as cheeky as Mac when he was born, but close. Mac gets to keep the title of "cheeks". 

 His first book, and not even 24 hours old.

This is my happy place