Chapter 1

In the middle of the night, on Monday, October 16, 1989, Todd Zachery Swenson was born. He was early, not being due until the 28th of that same month, but he came weighing 8 pounds 15 ounces. Thank goodness he came early! My mom, Olivia, was in labor at Sierra Vista Regional Hospital, located in San Luis Obispo, CA. Four hours went by and most mothers can relate when I say that you will do anything, be in labor for however long it takes, and push no matter how painful it may be, to hold that most perfect, beautiful baby in your arms.

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Events leading up to the birth of my little brother were peculiar. My mom had another of the scheduled prenatal visits on the Friday before Zach was born. As was discovered at previous appointments, the baby was still in the breech position. When a baby is breech it means that they are upside down, not in the normal birthing position. His head was up by my mom’s ribs and every time she tried to bend over she couldn’t, having a human head thrust into her diaphragm and ribs. It was crucial that the baby turned or else a Cesarean Section would need to be performed when it came time for the actual birth. An appointment was made for the next Monday to conduct an external version procedure. The doctor will try to turn the baby by pushing against my mom’s stomach with motions that are proven to be safe and will, hopefully, help turn the baby. Before my mom left the doctor’s office she pondered upon what the doctor had said to her earlier. He said that, in general, it’s instinctual for babies to turn themselves when they are breech. My mom went back into the room to ask the doctor a quick question. “If it’s instinctual, then could it not know? Could something be wrong and it does not know to turn itself?” she asked. A mother’s instincts are always accurate. When the doctor replied she could tell he was a bit caught off guard by the question. He replied, “I can’t believe you asked me that! Well, I guess, but we’ll just hope that it does know.” The question seemed plausible to my mom.

That night my mom told my dad of the breech baby in her womb and what was discussed about it possibly not knowing to turn itself. My dad did what every supportive, caring husband would do and gave her comfort and reassurance that everything would be okay. He said, “Everything is going to be fine Liv, but if its not, we will handle it.” That night, while the house was quiet and sound, my mom lay awake with countless thoughts running through her mind. The “rock” that she is, though, she knew that what my dad said was true. With the Lord on their side, “…we will handle it.”

The next day was a standard Saturday, filled with soccer games. It was always a day we looked forward to as a family. Growing up I can remember being on the field with a sideline full of parents and families chanting and yelling at their kids. Not even having to look to the sideline, I could always pick out the voices of my mom, dad, and my brothers. While at A.J.’s soccer game, my mom undid her beach chair to sit and watch him play. She bent over and felt no pain. To confirm her impression, she bent over again and again to see if she was right. No pain. “Todd, Todd, I think the baby has turned!”