The World Record For One Woman Having Babies

Matt & Julie -- Relative minor-leaguers in the `kid' department

There's something I need to clear up. Some accusations, aspersions, and rumors that have come our way over the last several ways. It's been on my mind recently and I just want to clear the air. All those people who say we have a lot of kids? You're wrong. It's just not true. We're not even in the minor leagues when it comes to kids.

How can I say this? Pretty easily. And I'm not even comparing ourselves to the Duggars and however many kids they have at the moment. You see, I've done some research. I've asked the right questions. I've probed, nerded out, googled, whatever you want to say. And I'm here to tell you that the truth of the matter is that we might only have a starter set of kids when you compare us to the legend of baby-making. The woman with the womb in the Birthing Hall of Fame. The one whose maternity dresses we are not worthy to wear. (Especially me.)

Just out of curiosity, what do you think is the world record for one woman giving birth? Is it 24? Would you say 30? Can you imagine, gasp, 40? Let me just say, you're getting warm.

Friends, strangers and even Sabo blog stalkers, there is one woman who stands alone in recorded Western history for the fruitfulness of her womb. She put the `pro' in prolific. Let's just say she's pro-life like no one else.

Between the years of 1725-65 (Which, if my calculations are correct, is 40 years ... that's 40 years of giving birth ladies.) Ludmila, a Russian peasant woman and wife of Feodor Vassilyev,  gave birth to 69 children by 27 births. That is not a typo. That's 69 babies. Sixty-nine. Say it out loud for effect.

Yes, it's true. According to the Guinness Book of World Records, all the women put together reading this blog probably don't have enough kids between them to compare to Ms. Vassilyev. So how did she do it? Uh, let's rephrase that. How did she have so many kids? The key is multiple births. All you young mothers out there start taking notes.

She had four sets of quadruplets, seven sets of triplets and sixteen sets of twins. So there you go. It's all about multiple births. Got it? Not to mention the fact that she had babies over the course of 40 years. Does that mean she started cranking out wee lads and lasses at 14 years of age and finished at 54 years old? I'm not sure. Whatever the case, apparently she seemed to enjoy the whole child-birthing thing. God bless the woman, eh? Here's another thing: All but two of the children survived infancy. In 18th century rural Russia no less.

Take a minute to let this all sink in. Sixty-nine babies. No hospitals. No running water. No disposable diapers. No long, hot showers. No epidurals. No birthing rooms...no wipes, baby food in jars, formula, or anything else like it.

What a woman.

So I hope this encourages you all to rethink the whole child-rearing thing. Maybe recalibrate what constitutes having kids. And having lots of kids. While you're thinking about that, I'm going to go ask Julie when she's ready to start having kids.

Birthdays, Birthdays...So Many Kids, So Many Birthdays

Unlike most people, my first thought when I wake up isn't, "Coffee! I need coffee!" As a father of 14 children my first thought each morning is, "Is it one of my kids' birthdays today?" Now I usually can't make that determination until after I've had my morning cup o' joe, but quite often the answer is, "Yes." Today is one of those days. Our son Abram turns 15 today. So join me in wishing him a happy birthday.

Birthdays in the Sabo house are pretty cool. For one thing, we don't have to throw a big party because, well, it already is a big party. He already has 13 of his closest friends, in this case brothers and sisters, at his party. Our birthday tradition runs like this: We let the birthday kid pick out where he or she would like to eat dinner or lunch and the treat's on us. We have a cake, typically a fairly big cake, open some presents, -- our parental expenditure budget on birthdays is around $20; if those in the Sabo house who have a regular income choose to get a present for the birthday kid, then that's their prerogative and often times they do -- sing the birthday song and generally enjoy the festivities.

I distinctly remember Abram's birth. Now that I think about it, I distinctly remember the births of all the kids. I remember Eli was born at night when I was trying to watch the women's gymnastics competition during the Olympics in 2004. The U.S. women were going for the gold when Julie got serious about. I politely asked her if she could hold on just a little longer because the U.S. women were going for the gold ... just kidding! I said no such thing. May not have even thought it ...

In September 1999, I was commuting from Prineville, Ore., to Corvallis, Ore., after taking a job over in the Willamette Valley as a correspondent for The Oregonian. It was a three-hour drive and I would leave Prineville on Monday morning for the lovely cruise over the Cascade Mountains and come back Friday evening. Julie was due right around Labor Day, Sept. 6, and on that particular day I remember giving her something of an "ultimatum." I explained to her that if she didn't have the baby soon, I would be leaving for Corvallis first thing in the morning. So, you know, things needed to get going.

So Julie took matters into her own hands. Or womb. I remember going for a brisk walk around the block with her when she started going into serious labor. It was late in the afternoon and our midwives -- Abram was among the stretch of Sabo wee ones born at home -- we're having trouble making it to Prineville on time. So I started boiling water, cutting sheets and doing things doctors do. Just kidding! I believe I prayed fervently that the highway traffic would part like the Red Sea for our midwives.

They made it on time and Abram was born late in the afternoon, a whopping 8 lbs., 13 oz. and the chunkiest Sabo on record. It was a difficult birth and Julie hemorrhaged and I remember feeling helpless. The midwives were able to slow the bleeding with doses of Pitocin before we had to rush her to the hospital, which was literally a block away. I thank the Lord that Abram and Julie were fine.

Fifteen years later Abram is a wonderful son. He is kind, gentle, helpful, responsible an amazingly skilled Legos contractor, a faithful servant at church and very good with our little ones. One thing in particular I love about him is that every night I can find him in a quiet spot reading his Bible. At 15 he is one of the wisest people I know.