Favorites #2: And I Felt Like Superman

This is probably my favorite post ever. Not because it was the most commented on when I posted it to Facebook, not because it was some great example of writing, but for two other reasons. Every time I read it I fall in love with being a father all over again, and I see how God touched our lives on that amazing day. How our little baby became our little miracle. I remember all the tests, the wires, the hurt, the worry, the spinal tap, the scared doctors, and the fear I felt. And I remember how peaceful I felt the first time I was able to hold my newborn baby girl.


And I Felt Like Superman

Evelyn Grace Williams was born at about 3:35 pm on March 29, 2010.

On the way out she pooped. Kind of a funny thought at first, except that it actually wasn't funny at all. She inhaled some of it and the doctors are afraid she may have gotten it in her lungs. So it became kind of scary.

We didn't get to hold her. I barely got to see her before she was whisked away to the Critical Care unit (CCN, but I don't know what the N stands for). I took pictures, posted them on Facebook and Twitter and stored them in my phone. I only got two pictures, though.

That evening we were able to go see her, but still not hold her. They were - and still are - giving her a bunch of antibiotics to fight meningitis, and any other kind of infection. Even Herpes as a "just in case" thing. Even though Jennifer and I have only ever been with each other, and it is a very small chance, I guess it is part of the standard procedure. Still kind of scary. We still didn't get to hold her.

The doctor did a spinal tap, and they found white blood cells. I'm not a doctor, so I don't know exactly what that means, except that it is apparently a bad thing and they're going to consult with a specialist. She does have some minor infections, but overall she seems okay - aside from the white blood cells. They want to know why they're there.

They did an ultrasound on her brain because they wanted to make sure she didn't have any kind of infection there. That was kind of scary, too, because the doctor said if they couldn't get a clear shot, they'd do a CTscan. "Scan her cat" as some might say. They don't have to, everything looked fine.

Every moment since our daughter has come out, we've prayed. Every waking second my thoughts have been on her fighting off infection, fighting the only way an infant's body can. She's been sleeping but they say her breathing has gotten so much better. She was green (from the poop) when she was born and since they used a vacuum her head was cone shaped - she looked like a little alien. Then she was blue-ish when they cleaned all that off. Now she looks pink - you know, the kind of pink babies are supposed to look.

I've prayed and I've fasted. I've done everything a man with my limited powers of intellect and strength can do.

And I've felt so weak.

But this morning...

I got told her in my arms. Jennifer got to hold her first, of course, I knew it would mean the world to my wife to get to hold our daughter before me. I also knew I wouldn't want to let her go if I got to hold her.

But this morning, I got to hold her.

And I felt like Superman.

Favorites #1: The First Post

Over the next couple of weeks I'm going to post some of my favorite entries, for those of you who maybe haven't read my blog or just recently picked up reading it. It is also a way to help me gather up some good material for future posts.

So for now, here's entry number one in my "Greatest Hits" I guess.

The First Post

I have decided to journal what I believe is about to become the greatest experience of my life:

Parenthood.

My wife and I are expecting our baby about two months from now. We've been told it will be a girl. We'd be happy if it was a boy or a girl, but this has certainly made the process of coming up with a name much easier.

It took us months to agree on a boy's name, then when we finally had decided on the one we liked, we got the news that the baby will be a girl. So, again, we toiled with our books of baby names and finally came to the decision. If the baby is born a girl, she will be named Evelyn Grace.

I'm very excited.

Of course, Jennifer is stressed and her body is doing all sorts of crazy things that I don't think she believed were possible. Like the trips to the bathroom every fifteen minutes. She's incredibly excited, though. I she's equally elated at the thought of no longer being pregnant.

Unfortunately, I didn't realize how much work went in to preparing for a baby. I am, of course, talking about the putting together of furniture like changing tables, bassinets, cribs, strollers, etc. Not to mention the new clothes my wife is going through or all the doctor visits. Definitely did not count on all the expenses being as high as it is.

Baby business must be good business. Thank God for our family and friends who have blessed us with the gifts we received at a recent baby shower. Our church family is having another baby shower for us, too. We really have been blessed in this entire pre-baby period.

Anyway, we're looking forward to this addition to our family, and I am looking forward journaling it all so that when our offspring are in our shoes, I can simply say, "Hey, check out this link." And they can laugh at their crazy old man's rantings.

A Different Side of Love

During a text conversation with my old college roommate, Jorge, the typical conversation that seems to crop up with old friends I haven't spoken with for some time began anew. "How do you like being a dad?" he asked.

"I love it. I'm training up a whole minion of my own for when I take over the world," I replied. "I even write a blog about my (mis)adventures in parenting." [In which you are now engaged in reading, might I add!]

I returned the question as he is now awaiting his second offspring. His reply was simple but incredibly insightful. Jorge simply stated, "It has shown me a whole new side of love."

At the time it was kind of a nice remark, but it stuck with me through the night and when I awoke this morning I decided it must be a theme I would install into this particular blog.

It seems I have also discovered this different side of love as a parent. In the English language we have so many different meaning for the word. One may state, "I love my car, I love a good hamburger and I love my wife." However, to marry my car is absurd and to eat my wife is cannibalism, not to mention the last time I drove a Big Mac I just got special sauce all over my hands.

I don't know if Jorge meant the love that is returned from our kids - like how my daughter can sense when I am stressed from work and comes to hug my knee, or pat me on the back if I'm sitting on the floor yelling at a football game. Of course, as a parent, you love your kid in a similar manner, putting band-aids on ouchies and reading to her all hours of the night so she can sleep, making special trips to the drug store for children's tylenol, and on and on.

Its just something to think about today, the different sides of love we experience, both as parents and simply as the relational beings we were created to be.

The Evil of Snow Days

You remember when you were a kid and it snowed about a tenth of an inch? You'd spend the first fifteen minutes of your morning hoping beyond all hope that the radio, t.v., or website you got your news from would come across with a bulletin exclaiming there was no school. Of course, most of the time, it was only a tenth of an inch and you had to go to school and now had fifteen minutes less to get ready.

But when the news came that classes were cancelled...

Free vacation. No homework due, no annoying bus drivers threatening you, and you could spend all day in your pajamas watching t.v. It was one of those things from our childhood we take for granted as adults.

I'm older now, with a kid of my own (hence the name of the blog), and have a whole different outlook on snow days. Granted, my kid is a few years away from having to ride the big yellow chariot to the village of the learned, but as the white flakes fell from the heavens today, it clicked within my head that snow days are possibly a nightmare for parents.

See, I would still have to go to work. As would my wife. Grown-ups rarely get snow days. Which now makes me think how evil the teachers, school boards, principals, whoever it is who makes such decisions are. How divided the hearts of parents must be. On one hand, my kid's excited she won't have to go to class and she has a few more hours of sleep. On the other, I can't spend all day in my pajamas like she can, I've got to scramble to find a sitter and get myself ready to go toil in the salt mines. Or, whatever it is I do at work all day.

It has occurred to me that in preparation for snow days, we are going to have to find a back up to our back up, should something like that happen. You know, a bullpen of baby sitters.

Being a parent hasn't matured me, its only made me see how incredibly contorted my view of life was when I was a child. Snow days are absolute evil, stress inducing holidays obviously created to destroy the happiness of parents.

Obviously.

An Imaginary Conversation

Me: Evelyn, someday you could be president of the United States.

Evie: Anybody who is stupid enough to get himself elected president should not be permitted to do that job.

Me: Oh, so you're quoting Douglas Adams now?

Evie: I don't even know who that is, remember? I'm not even two yet.

Me: You talk a lot better in these imaginary conversations than in reality.

Evie: Well, you're also about fifty pounds lighter.

Me: Good one! Man, I'm so glad I get to be your dad.

Evie: Change my diaper.

Me: Forget what I just said...

Sometimes I do that. I'll be talking to Evie and she'll go silent. Sometimes she talks back and its all "Mummmmaaa buh buh no. *whisper* bleh blah BUH bee?" Either way, I get the idea and just make up her side of the conversation.

Its a fun way to keep my sanity. If you haven't tried it, I recommend it at least once a week. Even if you don't have kids, but you do have a pet? Just give them a voice and have the conversation.

To be clear, this isn't some "New Age," "Hilary Clinton talked to Ghandi" type junk. This is just you being ridiculous to relieve stress. At all times you need to remember that the conversation you're having is actually in your own head, and you're just doing a little bit of crazy to keep yourself sane.

If you really think your dog is telling you to buy a different brand of dog food, or your child just quoted "Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy" before they can ask for more juice, it is time to call the big-white-van-that-hands-out-coats-with-sleeves-tied-together-at-that-back. You know, check into the hotel with the padded walls.

Seriously, don't do it if you have a history of crazy.

But, if you're a parent in need of a little self-amusement, knock yourself out.

MMMMMMM!!!

I realize I forgot to blog yesterday. It has been a pretty stressful week, to be honest.

It all started Friday when we were late on our rent for only the second time in five years (and this time it was seriously because we forgot to pay it). Then, after I had given the lady in the leasing office a check, she called my phone while I was at lunch and told me they couldn't accept checks for late payments, that they had to have money orders. So, leave what I was doing, go to the bank, get a money order, turn around and go all the way back home and pay this lady. I do this, but upon my return, the Leasing Office was closed. Evie and I go home, and this is where the Poop-Storm gained its thunder and lightning.

I locked my keys in the truck.

Before I was a parent, I never once locked my keys in the house or in my vehicle. Ever. You can believe me on that. Never. Since becoming a dad, keys get locked in a variety of stuff.

Jen bailed me out, using her lunch to come unlock the truck. She also dropped the money order by the leasing office because they were apparently only closed for fifteen minutes and I happened to catch them at that time.

Saturday and Sunday had their own problems, mostly work related and I don't want to go into that here. Monday, Evie fell outside the apartment as we were leaving for daycare. I thought she'd just bumped her head because she fell pretty close to the door, but I was in such a hurry I didn't even notice her scraped up knuckles. When I got to the daycare, Andre (the lady's husband who works at the daycare and an all around great guy) asked, "What's on her fingers?"

Thinking he was referring to the red nail polish my wife is so fond of placing on my kids fingers, I responded, "Oh her mom did that." and promptly left because I was running late for work.

I get a call from Jen wants to know what's happened to Evie's hands and why I'm accusing her of child abuse. I explained I had no idea what she was talking about - then it clicks.

I feel like the worst parent ever. Hate myself for not noticing. I take such care to pay attention to my kid, and somehow in my haste I passed over that.

Sincerely wanted to punch my life in the face.

Yesterday, Jen had forgotten her dressy shoes for work at home. See? That stuff never happened before we were parents, either. I get a call at 7 am and have to wake Evie up and go downtown. As a reward for myself for being such a good husband, we grabbed breakfast on our way home. Evie loves hashbrowns, and she ate about 90% of hers.

The last little bite I tossed in the dog's dish since he looked like he felt left out. But he never ate it.

Hours later, as I'm putting on my shoes to head to work, I hear my child exclaim, "MMMM!!!" and notice she has something in her mouth. I then realize two things 1) I forgot to feed her lunch and 2) there's only one place she could have gotten food.

I made her spit the dog's portion of the hashbrown out, and we grabbed some food on the way to the daycare.

She also got a special milkshake from McDonald's because her father is such a nitwit.

Speaking Ain't Easy

A week ago our physical therapist came by for a session with Evie. We now only have to meet about twice a month, which is awesome progress. Brandi has worked really hard with Evie, and the progress is evidence of her work, and proof of Evie's work, too.

One thing that was talked about (I was at work during the session last week) was Evie's progression in speech. Its not something we haven't been a little worried about, for instance, Evelyn has a small lisp and when she tells the dog to "sit" it sounds like she's commanding this animal who I have struggled to house train, to go number two on my carpet. Jack, our boxer, ignores the "sh" sound and plops his rump down on the floor obediently. One of his few redeeming qualities, I guess.

Unfortunately, this lisp is starting to come and go at the wrong times, in the wrong words. At daycare, she's learned the song "Ring Around the Rosey" and at the "ashes, ashes, we all fall down" part, the lisp disappears when it needs to be there, and she's now calling forth mules to collapse around. Its frustrating.

Brandi pointed out that she's a little behind in speech, even with the lisp as a part of the issue. Evelyn should be putting together smaller sentences at this point, I guess. I blamed myself, somewhat, because coming home from work, or preparing to go, its often easier to sit my daughter down and let her play, watch some muppets, or have a snack while I get my stuff together for the day, or relax after a stressful day dealing with... what I deal with at my job.

So, yesterday I started working with Evie more. Pointing to myself and saying "Daddy," pointing to her and saying "Evie" or "Evelyn." Then pointing to my phone and saying "Expensive piece of equipment you don't get your sticky hands on."

Okay, it wasn't that complex. I said, "Phone." "Truck" when we walked to the truck, and so on and so forth.

I don't know if something clicked in her head, if it was a small moment of clarity, but we walked up to the daycare and she turned around and said, "Bye Daddy" for the first time.

Its probably lame, but I felt like I'd unlocked some sort of achievement on my Playstation, except that it wasn't a video game, it was life and it was awesome. It really made me feel good.

If you don't understand this feeling, that's fine. When you've worked with a kid on something and they get it, you'll understand. Its like the first time Jack told us he didn't want to go boom-boom on the floor but actually wanted to relieve himself outside, multiplied by a bazillion.

I want to be around

I turned thirty yesterday. 30. Three times ten. For three decades I have been around, and I want to be around for at least a few more.

Some men go crazy and want to buy a Ferrari when they hit a certain age (usually forty or fifty), but I recently shaved off all my facial hair and realized that there's more of me hanging around than there was ten years ago. I checked the scales and yeah, too many cheeseburgers and frozen pizzas over the past six years have taken their toll.

There's the Freshman Fifteen people put on when they got to college, but I put the Married Million after Jennifer and I said "I do."

At least that's how I feel when I look in the mirror lately. And I don't want people saying those bald faced lies like, "Oh you look fine," and "You're healthy as a horse." Because the fact is, yeah I probably hide my weight okay and during my last medical screening yeah, I was pretty healthy. Actually, surprisingly healthy.

But I know better. This isn't me. Somewhere inside, there's me, but there's all this extra padding that I didn't buy at a sporting goods store and I'm ready to shed it.

What's this have to do with being a parent? Well, I want to be around to see my daughter graduate from High School and College, and, God willing, see my grandkids, great grandkids, and if modern medicine can keep putting synthetic parts into my husk of a body at the age of 102, thus making me into the Darth Vader look-a-like I've always dreamed I'd become, maybe I'd get to see my great-great-grandchildren. That'd be great. Uhm... that'd be wonderful.

So, I'm starting to work out, get myself back in shape. About six months ago I easily shed some weight, and now I need to do it again and keep it off. Yeah, this time its time to get in shape.

Cue the "Gonna Fly Now" and all other Rocky training montages. I'm gonna shape up this year.

If for nobody else, for my kid. And future baby brothers and sisters to be named later?