Brokenness, Beauty and Pain

Hello again blog readers. I know I haven't written in some time. But I need to start again, else I'll go crazy. So Traci and I are now the parents of four beautiful sons. Three of whom are affected by Hartsfield Syndrome. We have made genetic history again. Though it's a lot simpler when you realize your odds are 50/50.

Collin was born August 13. So we kept our August birthday streak alive, but his is ten days after the other two. When we got pregnant last year, I remember Traci taking a pregnancy test as a lark, when I kept telling her she had to be pregnant. She came out of the bathroom, holding the test and looked at me and said, "Now what do we do, I took the test so I could tell you to leave me alone about being pregnant."

A flurry of anxiety hit both of us, but then I said, "Well don't worry, this baby will surely be a typical child, and be a spark of fun and humor like Matt." Then it came time for ultrasounds. Traci and I were excited because at one of his first ones it clearly looked like he had five budding fingers on a hand and was waving at us. But course, the more ultrasounds we saw, the more brokenness we saw. But yet we held out hope. Maybe he would be so mildly affected we wouldn't even have to deal with any issues.

 As I said Collin took his first breaths at around 5 o clock, on the 13th. We soon discovered he would be no easy case. Though he does have a full complement of fingers. His cleft is more severe, he has an as yet undiagnosed lump on his nose, either it is a proboscis, or an encephalocele. So he either has a lump of spare nose parts or brain matter clinging to his face. Awesome.

It's been a struggle trying to find time to be at the hospital with him, trying to find time for the other three, trying to find a moment to breathe and process and thank God for the new life he has given us charge over.

Admittedly I haven't done a whole lot of that last one. Being a parent is supposed to be the greatest gift we have We participate in the Fatherhood of God Almighty. Why is my participation such a struggle. Why are we the ones force to find beauty in the broken.

I've written before about understanding Simon the Cyrenian's place. Being forced to do something you don't want to do, that will have a great impact beyond yourself. But lately it just feels so much more like just pain, there is no beauty in the sandbox, it's full of glass, full of broken pottery, discarded like yesterday's breakfast.

Last year when we found out about Jake I leaned heavily on the song "Nothing is Wasted," by Jason Gray. The song essentially says that no pain, no moment in your life is wasted, That Christ will put the pieces all together and make you whole one day. The song spoke so clearly to me, the circumstances of my first hearing of the song, all seemed like He had written the song specifically for me.

Interesting side note about young Collin he is essentially named after Collin Raye, the country singer. One day I was listening to a CD of his, all religious songs, and I thought the name Collin Michael. I came home and told Traci, I had a great name for the new one. Over time she fell in love with the name as I had. It seems kind of fitting it wasn't long after our meeting Mr. Raye, that she found out she was pregnant.

But Lord this one hurts. I even entertained the idea of a vasectomy, I was in so much pain after hearing another Hartsfield diagnosis. Traci had a down moment herself the other day, as we sat in Collin's room, she was so very sad and asking why his soul couldn't have gone to a family that made "normal children."

I told her that his soul had been a part of our family since before time began. That, I do believe. Collin's theme song has been "I Get What I Need," from our good friend Collin Raye. It's a song about how sometimes we pray for things, anticipating getting one thing, but then God gives us something else, which in turn produces the desired result, but not from the way we wanted it.

I guess this is just me whining and complaining about everyone else's garden looks so easy to tend and yet ours is so, so difficult. My sons are beautiful, all four of them and I wouldn't want to not have any of them, yet the pain, the sleepless nights, the sadness all take their toll.

You really shouldn't have to worry about outliving your children, and yet I do. To the point the idea has kept me up way too late too many times.

One bright side perhaps is that Matt seems much less terrified of Collin than he was of Jake. It took quite a while last year for Matt to go near Jake, but this year, before the summer cold of doom, gripped us the times he did see his new baby brother, he pronounced him as "Cuute." 

That kid has become my sanity, it's a hell of a lot to put on a four year old. Too much. So I don't tell him that, I just frequently take him with me when I do even the most mundane of errands.

The Love of a Woman

Thirty years ago today, my world was significantly altered. I didn't and couldn't know it at the time. After all I was merely a year and a half old. But on this day 30 years ago my future wife came into the world. I look at the time we have known each other and the way we met and cannot help but see the hand of the Lord in it all.

We met when I was just out of High School. I was an online chat addict for all intents and purposes. I guess being unable to talk to a girl when she was in front of me in real life was just too hard. Talking to one through a computer was just so much easier. I started talking to her one night, she was friendly and easy to talk to, so we continued to seek each other out online and chat.

We talked about anything and everything, our chats extending into the wee hours of the morning quite frequently. I was hooked, when she didn't sign on on a given night I would get so bummed out. If she went out with friends I would get jealous. I was probably a tad irrational, but I loved talking to her and so missing out on that chance always made me a little lonely and sad.

I will always remember how I felt as my dad and I drove to the airport to pick her and her best friend up, when she came down to meet me for the first time. I was so nervous the whole ride there I wanted to puke. But once we got there I ran up to the gate (this was pre 9/11) and their plane had already unloaded. I quickly ran back down and caught my dad, told him they had gotten off the plane already. I turned and looked toward the baggage claim area and I saw the two of them sitting there. My heart must have missed about three beats. I got a little lightheaded, but I went over and said hello.

I knew then I was done. From then until forever I wanted to be with her. Well it took us a few stops and starts because one of us was in desperate need of some maturity. But fortunately she has stuck with me through some ups and downs.

It's hard to believe we have two wonderful kids and are where we are. We have a long way to go yet, but I keep telling her God must have something awesome in store for us and we just have to pay our dues.

I can't wait to see how her next 30 years turn out.

Musings on Mothers

With Mother's Day approaching I thought I would take sometime to reflect on motherhood, from the male perspective, or perhaps just to honor a few mothers I know.

First obviously would be my own mother. She has always been a tough cookie. I think she beat up every boy in her neighborhood when she was growing up, except my dad, and probably only because she liked him. We all know she loves us, but sometimes she can't express it maybe. But I remember once when I was maybe five years old, sick with the flu, just feeling rotten. She got home from work and she took care of me, cuddling me and making sure I was as ok as I could get. I wish I had some of that backbone she has, because I can be pretty weak willed at times and that bothers me.

One thing I did get from her is my faith, I can gripe about the fact I was behind in some of my sacraments, but she made sure I got them. I remember my sisters helped her out in teaching Sunday School. She taught the First Communion class and I finally got a chance in the last year or two she taught it to be her aide. I always liked that. In addition to just being able to help my mom out it was neat to teach the next generation some solid Catholic theology and respect for the Eucharist.

I also remember when I said I wanted to be an Altar Boy, she about died. Telling me I had a hard enough time getting through Mass as it was, she was probably right but the Lord usually kept me on my best behavior when I was on the altar.

For a stretch of my life Saturday late mornings into the early afternoon were our time. We would take her old Trans Am out wash it up, pay some bills and head to the library, or the mall, running errands and hanging out. Whatever we had to do that day we always ended it at Sonic for a cold drink. Good Times.

She's always good for advice too. I remember walking with her before my wedding and talking things out. I needed someone just to tell me to pull my head out and just enjoy the day. Then when Tommy was born I remember asking her how to deal with all of it. She gave me some great advice that I still use today, just get through the next minute, until you get through an hour than keep piling those up until you make it through the day.

So for all the times I have forgotten to say it over my last 30 years. I love you, mom. Thanks for being there, thanks for making sure your kids had someone we knew we could count on.

Of course she had a great example. My Memaw, was a saint whether the Catholic Church ever recognizes it or not. She had to have been to have raised 6 kids and dealt with my grandfather and not killed anyone :-).

I like to think of Memaw before she got sick, but somehow I think she taught me more when she was sick.

I remember when we would go see her at work sometimes, she always had the hook up for a Dum Dum pop. She was always so quiet I think it scared me the handful of times I heard her raise her voice. I think my favorite memory of her has really very little to do with her, other than she and Papaw were present at the time.

My dad and I had got up super early and left Las Cruces headed to Carlsbad for deer hunting, we were hunting our way to grandma's house essentially. We got to their house a little while after hunting had ended for the day and Memaw had a big thing of spaghetti waiting for us. I ate for all I was worth that night, best meal of my life.

Ask me sometime about my other story involving Memaw and deer hunting...but be warned its a little rough....

I still miss her, as we all do, it's hard wanting to show off my boys and my wife and not being able.

Speaking of my wife, how she does what she does I don't know. She is another tough cookie. She wears herself so thin working full-time and then giving her boys everything she has left till bedtime. We have two sons but like most women will tell you she is raising all of us.

But she puts up with me roughhousing the boys all over the house before bedtime on Monday nights for Living Room Wrestling. She puts up with my inability to throw things away immediately, I like to gather it all in at the end of the day, she hates that.

She takes care of all of us in ways she shouldn't have to. Somehow she just grits her teeth and throws her shoulder into it and gets it all done.

I don't think she believes me when I tell her I love the quiet grace she has about herself. She is my anchor. We make a perfect pair seeing as I usually have my head in the clouds and she has her feet firmly on the ground.

I know sometimes I do things that just make her so mad she would like to throw bricks at my head, but she hasn't....yet.

Her boys, all three of them, but especially the little guys just can't wait for Momma to get home at the end of every day. It's like the mommy tug of war as everyone wants a little piece of her. I worry that the two little ones are going to literally slug it out over her lap someday soon.

I know that God blessed me with more than I deserve when He made her fall in love with me. I just pray that someday He will let me pay it all back to her.

It cracks me up, but makes me a little jealous too, that when mommy is home the little man wants nothing to do with daddy. Sometimes she gets home and can't take him right away he will crawl down the hall, saying mom with his every move....cutest thing ever.

I have been blessed, I have gotten to see three truly amazing moms at work and am thankful for their influence and love in my life as it has helped to shape me into the man I am slowly becoming. I had hoped the process would be quicker, but alas.

So tell your mom you love her today, tell her how much she means to you, you might not have many more chances left.

Happy Mother's day to all you mother's out there. You are the first teachers of your children and their first examples of so many things, cherish those duties.