"On The Things I've Learned From My Son"

My children are not mine; they are not a possession. They have been given to me to love and to nurture, but ultimately they do not belong to me.  This I learned from the beginning of motherhood when my firstborn, my son, was born six weeks prematurely.  While I was in early labor a nurse at the hospital informed me, "This baby cannot be born.  It is too little."  He was born within less than three hours of that statement.  He was small, weighing a bit over 5 pounds at a time several decades ago when there were no neo-natal intensive care units in hospitals, and the sole treatment for preemies was to place them in incubators, pumping oxygen in to assist them with their underdeveloped lungs.  Watching him through a glass window, his heart beating in his chest like hummingbird wings, it never occurred to me that his life could be taken at any point in time.  Later, I understood the reality of that.

After spending two weeks in an incubator, we brought him home from the hospital with all kinds of information as to what to expect from a preemie.  His physical and mental development would be stunted, we were told.  He would be playing catch-up for quite a while.  The disparity between reality and what "they" said was evident from the beginning.  Within three month's time he was on par with his peers.  Apparently my son didn't read the pamphlets.  I know God didn't. 

Several years later, in his early teens, I learned how quickly life can turn, in a heartbeat, when a phone call was received from the school principal.  My son had "taken a little tumble" in a physical education class, but they thought he was "okay." They had him sitting up and everything seemed to be "alright."  The "little tumble" resulted in torn ligaments in his neck, making it impossible to support his head.  While waiting for the surgeon to fuse three vertebrae, using wire in a figure 8 and bone from his hip to create one section of solid spine in his neck, there were no prayers.  Not knowing whether or not he would have a whole body, I learned to wait on and for my Heavenly Father, asking nothing of Him.  Waiting, waiting, only waiting, knowing my son's future life was not in my hands.  The fact that he did not belong to me was reinforced.

He spent the summer in a body cast, no small feat for a growing 14-year-old boy, drawing questioning looks and stares wherever he went.  I watched as he deflected them and simply lived his life, and I learned what it means to not be affected by others.  Another lesson learned was of the kindness of our Creator.  Almost 40 years later, my son has two scars, one on his neck and one on his hip where bone was taken for the fusion, but no complications from what could have been a debilitating injury.  I never cease being thankful. 

He taught me that one can make a collection of anything.  As a little guy he collected animal figures given out by a local gas station.  There was a particular Jell-O box which depicted Mr. Jell-O.  He had a drawer filled with those.  The Jell-O boxes are gone, but he still has animals he accumulated as a child.  The collections of old insulators, old bottles, shells, Hard Rock Cafe pins from around the world --I have no doubt they are tucked away as well.  

Christmastime brings out displays of more than a few Nativity scenes and favorite Christmas ornaments and decorations.  Christmas at his home is like walking into a Christmas gift store, not knowing where to look first.  

His office is filled with University of Oregon football memorabilia; his yard is filled with all varieties of unique garden accessories and birdhouses.  If he has a particular taste for something, he will make a collection out of it.  He just can't help himself.

His sisters talk about their brother's "fem" side: a former greenhouse filled with orchids; the detailed, exquisite cross stitch gifts he has created; the Thanksgiving meals he prepares for family and friends, the menus he plans and cooks for charity dinners and tailgating parties.  He has taught me that gender is just a word. 

My son lives his life at full-speed.  He has since birth.  A sister commented that he never does anything half-way, and she's right.  His passion for animals, nature, wildlife, the sea and the outdoors; his humor and his hearty laugh; his effort to have a positive outlook no matter what the circumstances; his love for his family, music, and God--Everything about him is larger than life.  If you were to see him you would be struck by his imposing presence, this 6' 4" man who began life as a preemie.  In spite of the fact he never taught me the inappropriateness of wearing denim with denim, as my daughters have, I continue to learn by having him in my life.  I am forever thankful for my son.