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The Quint-Essential Birthday

Family life is a full-time scramble, and a blessing, for Marc and Mona Baker as their "party of five" turns two.

by Melody Schilling

In the world of parenting, what is normal? For Marc and Mona Baker of Cantonment, Florida, "normal" is using five toothbrushes to brush five smiles before settling five pajama-clad toddlers into bed at night. "Normal" is a plastic container holding identical shoes, tied together in pairs, with an initial written on the soles. "Normal" is five, count 'em, five baby gates in a single home to control the traffic flow—and keep fifty curious fingers out of the kitchen and bathrooms! So, why be normal?

"I think I hear Marcus," Mona said to her mom, Beth Whitson, as we visited quietly in the family room.

"I can never decide if I really want to open that door in the morning," I said, relating to my experiences with three kids at home. They both laughed, but in their laughter I sensed that this would not be a "normal" day for me. I'd come to visit Marc and Mona and their quintup-lets—Marcus, Ian, Tristan, Evan, and Elizabeth—on the eve of their birthday to see what life is like with five two-year-olds.

Marcus howled from the bedroom, and soon Beth ("Grammy") left our quiet setting and returned with a smiling, strawberry blonde who wanted to snuggle with Mom.

"Ooh, some lovin' for Mommy, Marcus?" Mona asked. "You normally hit the floor running, but this is great, too."

"Oops! Tristan's up. Be right back." Grammy re-entered with Tristan, another strawberry blonde and Marcus's partner in crime.

"These two are very close because they came home from the hospital together and slept in the same crib for several weeks," said Mona. "At night they pull their cribs together so they can climb into each other's beds."

Next up were Evan and Ian, the other "Dynamic Duo." Evan is fairest, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Among the five, he is the shyest, but especially kind and helpful.

From the safety of Grammy's lap, Ian's brown eyes glanced my way as he clutched a white cloth and sucked his thumb. Before the end of my visit, Ian would tease and flirt with me, tempting me to catch and tickle him as he crawled over the end of the couch.

Before Elizabeth awakened, the boys played among themselves while Mona told me part of their incredible story.

Married life had begun normally for Marc, 28, and Mona, 31, in 1989. Marc worked as both a minister and an insurance salesman, while Mona taught kindergarten. Like most couples, they hoped for children, but after five years, turned to fertility treatments. Finally, doctors prescribed the powerful Perganol, known for its incidents of multiple fertilization.

"We knew all the risks with Perganol," said Mona, "but we had tried everything else." When Mona went for her sonogram, five sacs appeared on the ultrasound screen. "Normal" had turned into "extraordinary."

Elizabeth's fight for life
"They immediately counseled us about 'selective reduction,' which is aborting some of the babies to give the others a better chance. But we said, 'No, if God gave us five babies, then we're going to have five babies.'"

Mona's pregnancy wasn't easy. She spent eight weeks in the hospital, hoping to delay premature labor and give her babies a better chance for survival. When Mona was seven-and-a-half months pregnant, Elizabeth's heart slowed to a dangerous level. She was dying.

"We delivered all of them early to save her life," said Mona. On January 30, 1995, the babies were born by Caesarean section at Sacred Heart Hospital—all welcomed to the world within 90 seconds.

Elizabeth, last in the food chain and tucked, quite literally, under her mother's heart, was born last. She weighed just 17-3/4 ounces at birth, the same as a bottle of Mr. Bubble bubble bath, and stretched out 13 inches, two inches longer than a BarbieTM doll.

All five had severe lung problems. Doctors covered them with plastic to maintain their body temperatures. Initially, Elizabeth required less acute care, but everything changed two weeks later.

"The doctor met me at the entrance to Intensive Care," said Mona, "and asked me where my husband was. I knew something was wrong."

Something was wrong, very wrong. Elizabeth had a hole in her intestine, requiring immediate surgery. The surgery went well, but there was a major complication: massive septic shock. Elizabeth's blood pressure was unobtainable, and she had very poor circulation to her arms and legs.

"She turned almost completely black," said Beth. "You won't believe it until you see the video from ABC's 'Turning Point.'"

---

All five had severe lung problems.
Doctors covered them with plastic
to maintain their body temperatures.

---

As if to change the subject, Elizabeth cried from her tiny room off the living-room-now-turned-playroom.

I followed Mona inside. Elizabeth sat at the end of her crib, and Mona reached in to lift her out. Elizabeth smiled, but it was not just an ordinary smile. It was an "I'm-so-glad-you're-here-and-that-we're-all-here-together" smile. Her brown eyes were alive with warmth and friendliness. Few babies smile like Elizabeth; I loved her instantly.

Everyone pitches in
Back in the family room, the boys were growing restless, as morning hunger pangs set in.

"Okay, let's eat. Everybody find your seat." Excitedly, they settled into their floor-bound booster seats sitting against the walls of a corner in the playroom. Grammy sat on a stool in front of them, with a large bowl containing a mixture of scrambled eggs, cheese, and grits. Like a professional card dealer, she quickly "dealt" a spoonful into each open, hungry mouth.

"After the third one came home," she said, "Mona needed my help. I wanted these kids to have a good start with lots of attention and care, so I quit my job. It was a difficult decision for me because I had a good salary and loved my work. I told God I felt bad because my tithe would be less. I felt him say, 'Beth, I don't need your money.' My husband, Carl, and I worked out a different budget so I could quit. I'm here every day, and I love it. Carl comes over every day after work, too."

She made a last pass with the spoon, and one by one, they turned their heads aside. In a flurry, we set everyone free, and they scrambled from their chairs to find books, toys, and the back of the corner chair, where they love to climb. Elizabeth found an empty lap and settled in for several repetitions of her favorite book—a Sesame Street counting book.

Evan and Ian fought as they competed for a place on Mona's lap. "People often ask, 'Which one is your favorite?' We tell them, 'The one I'm holding is my favorite.'" She moved to give Evan more room, and hoisted Ian up next to her. "You're not going to lose your place," she said to them. Somehow, I knew Marc, Mona, Grammy, and Granddaddy were going to keep that promise.

The sun shone outside on the fenced play yard complete with two Little TikesTM climbing sets, two Flintstone cars, a sandbox, and a five-passenger swing set made by Granddaddy. It was too good to pass up, but with quintuplets, one doesn't act impulsively—even the simple decision to go outside requires planning and effort. There were five faces to wash, five diapers to change, five outfits to switch, five pairs of socks to fit, five sets of shoe laces to tie.

All this while settling arguments, determining who took what from whom, making them give it back and apologize, laughing at the hilarious antics of five about-to-be-two-year-olds, and lacing your own shoes! It might seem impossible, but with patience and a terrific sense of humor, this family does this every day, 365 days a year.

Soon, the baby gate opened, and they giggled and squealed and romped their way outside. The boys paired off, sometimes arguing, often cooperating. Marcus and Tristan dug in the sand with sticks, and Evan and Ian climbed the jungle gyms or rode in play cars. Elizabeth settled in the wagon and waited for one of her brothers to pull her around. Evan eagerly complied, pulling and tugging at the handle.

An earlier rain made the ground soft, and I found myself at the back of the wagon, pushing. Soon, the others piled in, and our cargo weighed 125 pounds. After three laps of huffing and puffing, I found a seat on a nearby bench, from which I was recruited again and again.

Still living the miracle
I was relieved when Mona called us in. Because of my visit, Marc came home early from work and was given the honor of serving lunch: pasta, cooked carrots (which Marcus and Tristan stuffed into film canisters from the photographer), and cookies. After lunch, the kids settled into their cribs for nap time. I asked to see the video of Elizabeth and the boys.

"Mona and Marc sit in the tiny waiting room," said ABC's Diane Sawyer. "The nurses close part of the neonatal ICU to visitors, a step they take when they believe a baby is dying. The doctors tell the Bakers to prepare for the worst."

The television screen flickered with pictures of Elizabeth, dwarfed by intravenous lines, blinking monitors, and the gentle hands of caregivers. Her skin, as dark as raisins, starkly contrasted with the powder-white skin of her brothers—and the healthy pink babies I'd brought home from the hospital.

On the video, Marc spoke. "At one point, her doctor came and told me, 'Whenever you can, go by and touch her and pray for her because that's obviously what's keeping her here.'

"So, I made a decision: I'm not going to let her go. I walked to her bed, and she looked at me. I told her, 'Honey, you're not going anywhere. You're going to stay, you're going to recover, and we're going to see you grow and be strong.'"

Quickly, Elizabeth began to improve. A day after surgery and her severe infection, the doctors heard a strong, steady heartbeat.

"Every day, we asked the doctors what improvements they would like to see," recalled Mona. "They hoped for things like a slight improvement in blood pressure, or a certain blood count. We prayed for those specifically, and God answered specifically."

After six months, Elizabeth came home. The Baker family was complete. "One of her doctors told me it was the closest thing to a miracle he'd ever seen," said Marc. At their home church on Father's Day, amid shouts of joy and praise, Marc and Mona dedicated their children to Jesus.

Besides her need for glasses, Elizabeth's remaining impairment is in her left leg, which at one point, they considered amputating. The circulation returned slowly, but not to her toes, which she lost. Today, a special brace, shoe, and therapy walker aid Elizabeth with her first steps.

The Bakers see clearly God's hand in every area of their lives. In spite of $2 million in medical bills, a new van, and the expense of everything in sets of five, their total debt is less than $8,000.

---

Quickly, Elizabeth began to improve.
A day after surgery and her severe infection,
the doctors heard a strong, steady heartbeat.

---

"Several job opportunities in the past prepared me for my position as a financial advisor with American Express," said Marc. "I'm working lots of hours right now to lay a good financial foundation, but I'm trying to keep a balance between work and home."

"I have a hard time keeping a balance," I said, "and I only have three kids compared to your five. I'm always struggling with guilt."

"We don't go down the guilt highway," said Mona. "It would drive us crazy. Between me and Marc and my parents, the children get plenty of attention."

The call for plenty of attention came again, as a strong cry was heard in the boys' room. Here we go again.

Let's party!
The air was crisp the next morning when I parked my car beside the house. Mona was outside, removing the double and triple strollers from the van, trying to make room for the birthday party provisions. Inside, the children were busy with their daily chores: playing and exploring. They greeted me like a long-lost friend when I walked in. It's a terrific feeling when a child smiles—and five smiled at me that morning.

When lunchtime rolled around, Beth handed me a plate with six hot dog halves, in buns with a squirt of ketchup. It was my turn to feed the kids. Believe me, no amount of regular parenting and feeding sessions can prepare a person for five hungry mouths, waiting to be filled.

Marc helped me secure everyone in their booster seats, but then he disappeared. I was on my own.

Drawing from experience, I confidently handed each child a hot dog half. The looks on their faces said, "Well, okay. This is not the way we do it, but we'll try." After the kids smeared ketchup on their white rompers, after the buns were smashed between their fingers, and after Marc told me Mona wanted the kids to wear the rompers under their birthday outfits, Mona peeked around the corner. I was caught, my red face having nothing to do with ketchup!

"Don't worry about it," Mona laughed as she surveyed the scene. "Wipe as much off as you can with baby wipes, and we'll just put the outfits over them." I guess when you're a mother of quintuplets, you don't let a little thing like ketchup stains ruin your day.

While Mona readied herself, Marc and I dressed the kids. It was like an assembly line. I put on the socks and shoes, Marc changed the diapers and the outfits. In a mere hour, we were set to go.

Family and friends met us at a beach clubhouse near Pensacola. It was a raucous gathering, with over 40 people. This included a set of quadruplets, a set of twins, 18 children, one great-great-great aunt, two great-grandmothers, and four grandparents. Instead of "pin the tail on the donkey" and musical chairs, Mona preferred the simple, no-plan "let the festivities begin" with balloons and cake.

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear … " the song dissolved into familiar laughter. The children didn't seem to care if they heard their individual names. Their eyes were fixed on the colorful cake, topped by their favorite Sesame Street characters.

"We couldn't imagine it any other way," said Mona. "First we had no children, now we have five. We're blessed." Instead of one smile in the morning, Marc and Mona greet five; instead of one wet night-night kiss, they each receive five; instead of one baby album of memories, they reminisce with five. For Marc and Mona, "normal" is a five-fold blessing.

When barrenness becomes abundance, when near-death becomes life, when mere existence becomes adventure, we see the extraordinary love of God in the "normalness" of life. Happy birthday, dear Marcus, Ian, Tristan, Evan, and Elizabeth. May you have many more!

Copyright © 1997 by the author or Christianity Today International/Today's Christian magazine (formerly Christian Reader).
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