Our Journey from the Lie of Contraception to Nineteen Children
Composed of
Excerpts from
BETTER BY THE DOZEN,
PLUS TWO:
ANECDOTES AND A PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE
FROM A FAMILY OF SIXTEEN
By James and Kathleen Littleton
Copyright © 2007 by James & Kathleen Littleton
First Edition
Chapter 1
How We Came to be a Family
“Happy, all those who fear Yahweh and follow in his paths.
You will eat what your hands have worked for, happiness and prosperity will be yours.
Your wife: a fruitful vine on the inner walls of your house.
Your sons: round your table like shoots round an olive tree.
Such are the blessings that fall on the man who fears Yahweh.”
(Psalm 128:1-4)
J
im and I (Kathleen) grew up living a mile away from each other but never knew it for two decades. Then we met. It was not love at first sight, at least for me. Jim tells me it was for him.
I was twenty and a third year university student, planning to attend law school upon graduation. Jim was twenty-one and a high school graduate, at the time working as a supervisor on a loading dock.
Jim recalls, “Although I had seen Kathleen casually around the neighborhood a few times in my late teenage years, the first time I really took note of her was at a party at the university where Kathleen was attending. I saw her across the room. It was truly a moment of profound grace, although I could not label it at that time. Somehow I knew, and had a deep interior certainty that Kathleen would be my wife. I told my friend, Dan, ‘See that girl, she’s going to be my bride.’ Whenever I saw her from that time forward, I would refer to her as my bride, which Kathleen found, needless to say, very strange, but I think somewhat amusing and intriguing. I had very little prayer life (I would pray to win big pots in poker games and such) and almost no understanding of the things of God at that time, although in retrospect, I see God’s hand in this experience. I am convinced that he reached down and touched my soul. He had a plan for me, for Kathleen, for our children yet to be born, for all those we would come in contact with and influence in our lives, for the many generations of our family yet to come, for all those who will be touched by them, and perhaps for you, the reader, to come into contact with this book. God has plans, very significant plans, for each of us in our lives. Everyone’s life and mission is essential, irreplaceable.”
We had both been raised on the south side of Chicagoland, both from Irish Catholic middle class families, which made us what is termed there proudly, “Southside Irish.” In this neighborhood and parish-centered sense of family, everyone was Irish, even if you really weren’t.
Jim is the oldest of five children, and I am the fourth of six. Both our parents were faithful, practicing Catholics, attending Sunday Mass regularly and mine were very involved in parish life. We both attended Catholic parochial elementary schools and continued on to our local single-sex Catholic liberal arts high schools. Here is where the parallels end.
Jim chose to leave the Catholic high school in the middle of his third year, having difficulty seeing any sense in the strictness of the rules, already manifesting his rebellious and choleric temperament. He completed his final courses at the local public high school while working menial jobs, including assistant manager of a karate school.
He moved out on his own at age eighteen. Jim worked as a janitor, cleaning offices and dumping garbage in a downtown Chicago office building for about a year. He then went to work part-time on the loading docks for United Parcel Service, eventually being promoted to part-time supervisor. His employment at UPS lasted for five years. During this time, Jim admits his main focus was earning enough money to pay the rent, have a car, buy groceries, and have sufficient cash for partying. “I was a hedonist. I would have been a materialist as well if I had enough money.” Jim would make it to Sunday Mass during these years, sporadically, as long as he was not too hungover, sleeping past the last Mass, which was quite often.
I, on the other hand, finished high school with high grades, a high class rank, and went on to pursue a degree at a large state university. And so we met there, three years later, through a mutual friend that Jim was visiting one weekend. We didn’t actually really meet each other. He saw me, but I didn’t even know he was there. As I said, it was not love at first sight on my part. I had no interest in someone who wasn’t pursuing higher education, the intellectual snob that I was, and wrote him off even without really ever even talking to him.
Time passed, I graduated, and was back living at home preparing to enter law school in the fall. We met again at the wake of a mutual friend. My heart softened to him due to the circumstances, and somehow I found myself very much wanting to get to know him better. We started dating and I soon realized he was the one. On Christmas Eve, a year and a half later, we became engaged to be married. My parents were very concerned about the disparity of our educations (and Jim did not win any points when he tongue–in-cheek asked my father what the word disparity meant), but nothing can keep me from doing God’s will when I know what it is he wants me to do. Jim was convinced all along. Together, we had no doubts and never have.
I recall around this time standing in a bar, talking to Jim about how many children we would like to have someday. We both agreed we should have a large family, and came up with the seemingly very large number of five! Neither of us ever dreamed we would meet that goal in the next seven years, let alone far surpass that number. We have been truly blessed. Our children are a gift from God, and with that gift comes a great responsibility. To those to whom God has given much, much will be asked of.
We were married, I completed law school, passed the bar exam, and began working in a Chicago loop law firm. Jim obtained a position in the insurance industry. We were very happy. We attended Mass on Sundays, when it was convenient, but that was the extent of our faith life. Truly, that was it. Of course we believed in God, but other than a vague sense of owing him something on Sundays, we went about living our lives in a manner that seemed fine to us at the time. That included staying out late drinking with friends most every weekend, and even more serious in hindsight and gravely wrong, using the birth control pill to prevent pregnancy. I wanted to pursue my law career and had law school loans to pay off. Jim admits that he would have continued to postpone the start of a family indefinitely due to the lack of financial resources. We both felt we were doing the logical thing, the right thing, what was expected of us, and the decision to start on that large family was selfishly put off without much thought.
Then, the grace of God intervened. To this day, I don’t even know how it happened. I attribute it solely to the Holy Spirit. Little by little, I began to feel that somehow it was wrong to be putting off having a baby. And it seemed wrong somehow to me to be taking birth control pills. Jim and I were ignorant and indifferent that this was against the Church’s teaching. We had never been told that, not by our parents, not during Pre-Cana which is a marriage preparation weekend course, not by a priest, not by anyone.
I wanted a family, and I know Jim did too. Actually, that was one of the reasons I fell in love with him because I had seen him around children and how good he was with them, and I imagined him being like that with our own children someday. My law job was challenging and not fulfilling me as I thought it would. I wanted more. Actually, I didn’t want more, I wanted something else. I wanted to have a baby, and I knew Jim did too.
So one day, I just stopped taking the pills. I don’t know if I even told Jim. Jim recalls that I didn’t, although he was exceedingly grateful that I took this action. And I didn’t worry about it. As a matter of fact, I even forgot that I had stopped taking them. Time passed, exactly four and a half months to be exact. I remember, because when the doctor diagnosed what I thought was a thyroid problem because I was gaining weight, he told me I was twenty-weeks pregnant. That was my shortest and easiest pregnancy, because it was half over by the time I knew I was even expecting!
When Jim heard the news that I was expecting, he was extremely happy. We were both thrilled, and wondered why we had closed ourselves off to this essential aspect of our marriage for so long. We named her Shannon Rose. That was twenty years and nineteen children ago.
Jim felt that since we had one child, why not have another. He was not especially pro-life or out to be fertile and multiply, but reasoned that since life had changed so drastically with one child so that we could not come and go as we pleased, why not have another. This kind of thinking kept us going until our fifth child was born. Our awesome God works in mysterious and wonderful ways.
Tara Kathleen was born fifteen months after Shannon, then Grace Ellen, fourteen months after Tara. Colleen Anne (2008, now a Consecrated woman living the Evangelical Counsels) was born one year and three weeks after Grace, and so I had two babies to carry as neither could walk yet! Shannon was not yet four years old when our fourth daughter was born.
The saddest and most unexpected day came when I experienced my first miscarriage. I still can feel the emotional pain and loss of the baby we later named Maximilian Mary. There is a space there, a gap not just in years before the next child, but in my heart. I didn’t think I would ever be able to have another baby, and I was devastated.
And so it was with great joy that I saw Deirdre’s heartbeat on the screen of the ultrasound machine at thirteen weeks gestation! Baby girl number five was born, almost two years after Colleen. At this time, Jim began his reversion to the Catholic faith which is referenced in the next chapter.
The next baby came just over a year later, our sixth daughter in a row, Bridget Jane. Now our family totaled six children under age six, all girls. I had given up the idea of ever having a son, believing that somehow Jim and I weren’t capable of conceiving a male child. And so, I resorted to some supernatural help. I decided to pray a nine-day novena to the Blessed Mother. I don’t recall ever having prayed a novena before, and didn’t really know how to do it, so I made it a very spontaneous prayer that went something like, “Dear Mary, please tell God that I would love to have another baby, and if it is God’s will, please let it be a boy. If it is, I promise to give this baby back to him. He will be his to do with as he will.” Surprisingly enough, Shane (2008, now a minor seminarian preparing for the priesthood) was conceived the next month. Our first son! For years later, I could still marvel at the fact of his existence. My prayer had been answered, and I would remember my promise. Actually, Shane himself wouldn’t let me forget it.
I found out about my next pregnancy in a rather unexpected manner. Being very sick with a chest cold, I went to the doctor to see if I could get some antibiotics. He decided I needed a chest x-ray, but first asked me if there was any possibility of me being pregnant. I responded, “With me, there is always that possibility.” And so, I had a pregnancy test done. When the doctor told me I was indeed pregnant, I told him, “I’d rather be sick!” And I wasn’t kidding. I admit I was not happy to be pregnant again. I thought our family was sufficiently complete in my opinion. Jim always was ready for another baby, and I knew he’d be thrilled. Gradually, as the baby grew within me, I too began to appreciate this gift I’d been given again, and looked forward to welcoming another child. By the time Fiona Mary was born, I was completely ready for her, and wondered how I could ever have had such feelings of ingratitude.
God was soon going to reveal to me a deeper lesson on the value of life. It came in the form of my second miscarriage. Shortly after Fiona’s birth I found myself pregnant again, and very happy about it. Within a few weeks, however, I miscarried this baby, Theresa Gerard, leaving me even more determined and desirous to again experience the gift of life, a gift I would never again take for granted, or fail to appreciate. God had taught me my lesson well. And he rewarded me too in the following way for my surrender to his will.
I again conceived, but at six weeks started spotting, the first signs, at least for me, of another miscarriage. Jim went with me to the hospital for an early ultrasound at six weeks gestation to find out what was happening. He knew I would be very upset if I was losing this baby. The ultrasound technician wouldn’t tell me anything, but called in a doctor. By now, I was very fearful. Not only am I having a miscarriage, but there must be something else very seriously wrong, I believed. The doctor came and went, and still they wouldn’t tell us what was going on. Finally, they told us the news … no, I wasn’t having a miscarriage, I was having twins! Two baby heartbeats appeared on the screen, and I was overjoyed! I always wanted to have twins, two for the price of one! I never dreamed though, they would come as number nine and ten! Jim was happy, but very worried for my health. I didn’t give it a thought. I was basking in this delightful, miraculous, totally thrilling reality.
Reality took a while to sink in. Even when my doctor told me that preterm labor with twins was very common and very serious, I didn’t take him seriously. After all, I had given birth to eight children by now, and all of them had come on or very near their due dates, never early. That wouldn’t happen to me.
And so, when I went into labor with the twins at twenty-eight weeks, I thought it was just labor as usual. Time to have the babies! Again, the reality of what was happening took a while to sink in. It wasn’t until I was at the hospital hooked up to the monitors, that the full impact of what was happening hit me. I still couldn’t understand why I couldn’t just have the babies, and so the doctors had to convince me by giving me a very vivid picture. Yes, I was in labor, but if I delivered the babies then, the babies may not survive.
And so the battle began, the battle to keep the babies. It was long and arduous, full of medication, bed rest, medical tests, human error, prayer, and miracles. At thirty-four weeks, the twins were born, Maura and Clare. Clare thrived and came home. Maura didn’t. Put on a ventilator as she couldn’t breathe on her own, she contracted bacterial meningitis as well as a yeast infection thru her system a few days after her birth. Thus ensued days and long nights of fear, the unknown, infections, spinal taps, blood transfusions, middle-of-the-night long drives to the hospital leaving her days old twin sister at home with daddy, prayer and more prayer, unexpected hope and the dashing of hope, a dark prognosis that if she survived she had little chance of living a normal life, and finally, six weeks later, the reunion of the twins on the day Maura, beating all the odds through the grace of God, healthy at last, came home! What joy and thanksgiving! God has been so good to us!
For the month I was in the hospital on bed rest before delivering the twins, with eight children at home ages twelve and under, out of necessity Jim devised the plan of delegation that we still use today. Realizing that I wasn’t going to be around to do everything I did before, for an unknown length of time, Jim divided up all my chores amongst the children who were of an age to do them. Children are much more capable than we generally give them credit for. The Littleton Family Manual was created. The manual includes work responsibilities and time schedules for the children for mornings, after school and evenings, Saturday mornings, kitchen assignments, homework tracking tables, a flow chart for charges and charge-masters (as referred to in the Formation of Children chapter) and family house rules. The system has been tweaked and modified to such perfection like clockwork over the years, so that even today, I can be gone for short or long periods of time, and the household runs smoothly, and I will be the first to admit, often even more efficiently than if I was there.
Soon after the twins were born came another pregnancy, and another sorrow when at my sixteen-week check up the doctor was unable to find a heartbeat. The baby had died in my womb and the explanation came upon seeing the perfect little body with the umbilical cord twisted repeatedly around his neck. Yes, our second son. We named him James Paul.
But God is good, and as has been said, he never closes a door without opening a window; another pregnancy, and this time, another miracle. God gave us another son, a beautiful healthy, baby boy, Patrick Michael, our eleventh living child.
Two years passed. Thinking my fertility had waned, I recall saying that I believed Patrick would be our last child. I was forty years old. God had other plans, though, and I conceived Mairead Siobhan, another perfect baby. Then followed two more early miscarriages, Frances Xavier and Joseph Faustina, then two more healthy babies, Brighde Rosemarie and almost exactly one year later, when I was forty-six years old, Shealagh Maeve, our fourteenth living child and our nineteenth all together, counting our five babies in heaven.
I marvel as I look at all my children, and hold these two new beautiful babies, why have we been so especially blessed with so many children? And all I can think in response is what an incredible gift and what an awesome responsibility!
What all is God asking of us? Will we be able to fulfill his plans for us? And I know in my heart that we will, if we stay close to him! That is my prayer every day, “Give me the grace of perseverance and fidelity to the mission you have entrusted to me, that I don’t get in your way, and that you do with me what you will.” For that is what love is: total self-giving, wanting only what God wants, and doing it. That is the kind of love I aspire to, a Christ-like love. It is the kind of love all persons are called to aspire to, in imitation of Christ. This is a profound gift that we must ask for, count on, and cooperate with.
Chapter 2
How We Came to Live Our Faith: Jim’s Reversion
I am the living bread which has come down from heaven. Anyone who eats this bread will live forever; and the bread that I shall give is my flesh, for the life of the world.
(John 6:51)
O
ur blessed Lord always has our unique mission in mind and will orchestrate events to occur in accordance with his providence to help us to discover and to choose to live his plan (James). He invites us to respond in freedom and in love. In my case, despite my rebellion, sinfulness, and indifference through much of my life, he laid the groundwork for my reversion to the Catholic faith, which was to begin at age thirty-three.
I had grown up Catholic in a Catholic family, but my Catholicism and faith were for the most part superficial. I attended Catholic grammar school as well as Catholic high school through the middle of junior year. As a child, through grammar school, I attended Mass every Sunday with a sense of obligation, but that was about it. I had no other real prayer life. Although my parents, wonderful sacrificial people, with the best of intentions, sent my siblings and me to Catholic grammar school and some to Catholic high school, there was little or no family prayer outside of Sunday Mass. My parents did, however set a matchless example of marital love and respect for each other, and sacrificial love and service for their children. Their exemplary lives and actions speak volumes, and they will always be a benchmark that I fall far short of. In line with the dominant culture of the time, I think my parents sincerely believed they were fulfilling their duty to provide a religious formation by seeing that we received a Catholic education, and that that would take care of our faith essentials. I think that one of the big widespread errors of the time was to see the Catholic faith as, for the most part, fulfilling an obligation to God as opposed to developing a more personal relationship based on love.
One can never underestimate human ingenuity in terms of finding ways to get around the legalism of the law. But when one loves, one is not a minimalist. One who loves is not concerned merely with fulfilling an obligation, but rather wants to do everything possible to make the beloved happy. If one loves his wife, he does not tell her “See, I love you, as I have not murdered you, stolen from you, beaten you, or lied to you.” One goes out of his way to find ways to make his wife happy. He would not dream of seriously offending her, but does not stop there. He will support her, spend time with her, buy her flowers and candy, and go so far as to lay down his life for her. Our relationship with God must be based on love. The Church is not an institution; it is not something, it is someone, a person, namely Jesus Christ.
Retrospectively, I do recall some instances in my childhood that were perhaps a precursor to the gift of making my faith my own, which I was to receive much later in adulthood. I vaguely recall having an innate realization of, and attraction to, the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist, and a love for the Mass. I seem to recall in late grammar school that I once went to daily Mass about forty days in a row. But, once I was in eighth grade and beyond, I was on the road to being a complete, self-centered hedonist. I would fool myself that I was doing alright with God, who I fundamentally believed in, as I had not murdered anyone. My Sunday Mass attendance was sporadic, and the Sacrament of Reconciliation or Confession was totally off the radar screen.
As I progressed through my party years and then into marriage, I was definitely a minimalist when it came to God. I was completely assimilated into the dominant culture. From the time Kathleen and I were married and during the early years as we began raising a family, most people who knew me would probably say that I was a decent man doing his duty of providing for his family. But the dominant culture’s definition of a decent man is not necessarily God’s definition, and it was certainly not God’s definition when it came to me. The scary thing is that I thought I was doing fine. Knowing what I know now, I realize that I was breaking every commandment on a regular basis. I was blind and deaf in terms of knowing myself, and the state I was in.
But, our merciful Father in heaven does not give up on anyone. So, when I had been married already for about eight years, there was a report that the Blessed Virgin Mary was appearing at a local cemetery in the Chicago area. This fascinated me as I had retained a belief in the supernatural from my youth, as well as a fondness towards Our Lady. I packed Kathleen and our five children at the time in the car and went to see what it was all about, hoping beyond hope that I would be privileged to see the Blessed Virgin Mary or some sort of miracle. The real motivation for doing this was a self-centered curiosity, hoping for a dazzling sign, but God will use even means like this to draw us to him.
We went to the cemetery a couple times as I recall. I was grasping at signs, thinking that perhaps an outline in the bark of a tree was an image of the Blessed Virgin Mary. While I did not witness any concrete signs or miracles, something much more subtle and profound occurred. I recall experiencing an internal awareness and consolation of the presence of God, and I believe, the Blessed Mother. It was very real, but I did not understand it. I was also profoundly impressed with the faith and prayerfulness of many of the people present. I was amazed at their faith and conviction. I was very attracted to this.
As I recall, a woman handed me a card. On this card were listed the fifteen promises of the Blessed Virgin Mary to those who pray the rosary. I found these promises fascinating. So I dutifully took this card, placed it on my dresser, and left it there for many months, perhaps even for a year, before picking up a rosary to pray. From time to time I would pass by this holy card and think that I really should pray the rosary, but I did not act.
Eventually I decided to do so. I did not even know how to pray the rosary, nor did I remember the prayers. I obtained a pamphlet on how to pray the rosary, and literally had to read the prayers because I could not remember them. I started by praying one decade a day in the car, which consists of one Our Father, ten Hail Mary’s and a Glory Be. I would turn the radio off on the way to work long enough to pray these prayers, which probably took about one or two minutes. This duration was a major challenge for me taking me to the limit of my perseverance in prayer. I found it hard to believe that people could pray this much in a single day.
What happened from there can only be explained supernaturally. I can now attest to the fact that once the Blessed Mother takes hold of a soul, she will always bring him to Christ in the most rapid way possible. From the humble beginnings, by the grace of God, of praying one decade of the rosary, I quickly progressed to praying five decades of the rosary per day, and then it happened. Something, or rather Someone, moved me to get up one morning and go to a Mass (daily Mass) during the week. I went to the morning Mass at our local parish. Again, this is something that can only be explained supernaturally. I was overcome, conquered by the presence of God. This reality could not be denied. I could not hold back the tears. Our Blessed Lord and his mother, Mary, had poured out a tremendous grace upon me. This was all their doing. It was all God’s grace.
From this moment, I began to be a regular daily Mass attendee. As best I can recall, I started out attending Mass several days a week but not every day. The graces I received through the rosary and the Eucharist led me to begin to learn more about my faith. When I came to realize how special the Eucharist is, which I can now theologically explain as being the “source and summit of the Christian life,” (CCC 1324) I knew that I needed to attend Mass every day. Initially, in my mind “every day” excluded Saturday, as I reasoned the Lord would surely understand that I needed to sleep in on Saturdays. Eventually I understood that I was being called to attend Mass every day, no exceptions.
A parishioner lent me a cassette tape on the Holy Hour, by Servant of God, Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen. As I recall, this is what led me to begin regular Eucharistic adoration, which is spending time in the presence of Jesus truly present, Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity, in the Eucharist.
The Lord also blessed me with the realization that if daily Mass was essential for me, blessing me with infinite graces, then how could I leave my children at home? So I started bringing all my children to Mass on a daily basis with the exception of those in diapers who were left at home with Kathleen who had not yet surrendered to the graces of daily Mass attendance.
During this time we began incorporating daily prayer, including the rosary, into our family life. This was a tremendous blessing. By the grace of God we naturally wanted to share what we had received, and would evangelize by inviting other families to join us for prayer. Many ignored our invitations, but some accepted, and by God’s grace we were given the privilege to, in some way, be God’s instruments in helping these families grow in their faith.
Eventually Kathleen began to attend Mass daily, and we brought even the babies. Kathleen had attended one weekday Mass and received the grace to never turn back. And so, for about the last seven years, we have attended Mass every day with every single member of our family. Even now with some of our older children dispersed at schools around the country, they each continue their daily Mass attendance. So, although we are not usually all at the same Mass, we are all at Mass every day, and therefore united in this sublime way.
Our family’s daily Mass attendance is a testament to the grace that God has given us to primarily be able to recognize, and secondly to be able to live a proper hierarchy of values. This is a beautiful grace, a gift that we want to share with the reader. We know we must give God first place in our lives. We also unequivocally believe as Catholics that the Mass is the re-presentation of the passion, death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ and that we are mystically present at and in these events at every Mass. We know that the Eucharist is truly the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Jesus Christ, God and Man. There is no greater means available on earth to be with, receive, and be incorporated into Jesus Christ than the Eucharist. Therefore, how could we not give this Sacrament first place in our lives, every day? What obstacle or difficulty would be too great to do everything in our power to overcome so as to prevent us from missing even one Mass?
We have been given an enormous gift, the grace of living Eucharistic lives, and I rejoice in sharing with the reader the unlikely and miserable hunk of clay the Lord poured his blessings upon in me. It is all God’s work. But I see this as a gift that must be shared.
Early on in my reversion I was also brought, by the grace of God, to frequenting the Sacrament of Reconciliation, also called Confession. For many years now our entire family has gone to confession on a weekly basis. This has been a tremendous grace. There is no remission of sin without the shedding of blood. To paraphrase as I recall hearing on an unknown recording from Servant of God, Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen (I often paraphrase him), when the priest, in the person of Christ raises his hand and pronounces the words of absolution, Christ’s blood is mystically dripping from his hand. The penitent’s sins are washed away and forgotten, as if they never existed. He is restored to God’s grace and strengthened in future battles to avoid sin and live virtue.
Through my reversion, it took many years to gradually come to know myself and recognize the sin in various areas of my life. With God’s help I have gradually whittled away at these areas. My conversion is ongoing, as with the Divine assistance, I continue to see myself more and more in the light of God, and in the truth that God sees me; and I continue to strive to crowd out my various sins and faults with God’s grace, and to live a life of virtue. It is all God’s work with which I feebly, but essentially cooperate with, thanks be to our merciful God.
As Kathleen, our children and I continued to grow in grace, we became more and more involved in practical means of sharing the gift of faith we have received. It is all a privilege. We have been given so much, and have a great sense of duty and mission to share what we have received. Therefore we are writing this book for the glory of God and the greater good of all persons of good will. Anything good in it is God’s work. Anything lacking is from us.