I've always told Heath that God must have big plans for him to do great things.
As my oldest child entered this world, I realized that something was wrong. It had been a long labor and we were all tired--including the doctor and my great nurse (who was also the mother of a classmate of mine). But as he started to cry and I looked at the faces of my caregivers, it was obvious that there was a problem. I will never forget my words, "Is he all there?" The doctor gently explained to me that he was fine but that he had a cleft lip and palate. At my young age I had never even heard of a cleft. When they handed my son to me, I was terrified. What did this mean? Was he mentally okay?
His foot was also bent way back. Heath was a big baby and I had been feeling that foot at the bottom of my right rib cage for months! Those feet were huge!
So, our journey together started.
With the cleft Heath couldn't get good suction. It would take me 2 hours to get 2 ounces of formula in him. He was so hungry. I remember rocking in my hand-me-down rocking chair all night trying to fill him up and wishing I could go to bed. During those first few months I watched more than my share of middle-of-the-night Gilligan's Island and MASH episodes. At some point we realized that if we pinched his cheeks, it closed the gap, and he could get more down. I have some great video footage of my younger sister (an 8th grader at the time) using this technique to feed her nephew. It's precious!
At three months, Heath had his first surgery. I can't tell you what it's like to send your baby into surgery. I remember walking back as far as they would let me then crying my way back to the waiting room--praying that all would go as planned.
The first time I fed him after the surgery I looked at my mother and told her that something was not right. He was able to drink so much easier! We realized as we sat in the hospital room that, for the first time, we weren't listening to the loud slurping sounds that always accompanied a feeding. If felt good to laugh with relief.
Over the years, Heath had many surgeries. He got braces very young and went through ear tubes, speech therapy, retainers, glasses (with a stigmatism), and braces on his feet due to the one being bent so far back.
Speaking of feet...
When Heath was in the 1st grade (at the tender age of 6) we went to get a pair of school shoes. After measuring Heath's feet, the salesman informed me that boys shoes only went up to size 5. Heath needed a 6. We would need to go to the men's section. What?!?! Starting that year, Heath's shoe size matched his age. At 10 he wore a men's 10. At 13...a 13. At 15...15. Thank goodness that this is where it stopped! It was pretty funny that Todd got Heath's hand-me-down shoes when he outgrew the 12's at 13. Uncle Marc got some when Heath was only 11! I always told Heath, "You know what they say: The bigger the feet.......the bigger the shoes!" He didn't get this little joke until he was MUCH older!
We read every night. I loved reading to Heath and singing to him. He was such a beautiful and special little guy with enough personality for 5 boys. He must've been about 3 when, on a very windy day, I went outside our apartment to check on him and newspaper pages were swirling everywhere in the wind. It didn't take long to spot Heath with arms thrown up in the air watching his masterpiece--all of my neighbors' papers dismembered and flung in the wind by my child for amusement!
Macster will never let him forget the time he hitched a ride home with us. After stopping for Mexican food in Dodge City, we headed down the road with Heath still finishing his meal. At some point I asked Heath if he was finished and, when he assured me that he was, I threw the rest of the stinky burrito out the window. For the rest of that trip (about an hour!) we had to listen to Heath repeatedly wail, "I want my burrito!" Poor Macster waited a long, long time to have his first child.
School wasn't easy for my little guy. I'm really not sure why, but he just didn't have the drive to really try. I'd swear that every teacher he ever had wanted to pull his/her hair out with frustration because he/she knew Heath could do the work but, for some reason, chose not to. As a teacher myself, it drove me nuts...especially since I knew how bright he was.
We began to butt heads. It was hard for me to choose my battles with him because there were just so many. My son and I had to hit bottom and start back over in our relationship. Maybe it was because we had been through so much together. Maybe it was because we were so alike. Maybe it was God's way of showing us how much we needed and loved each other. Early in this time of reconciliation, Heath had to go through a major surgery. His top jaw had to be sawed off and reset. I think that the extended period of time when he couldn't talk played a big role in our healing. My son wrote on his little Magna Doodle that he loved me more than I had heard it from him in the previous several years. I really needed that. Strangely enough, since that surgery Heath has not had a stigmatism.
I'm thankful that Heath had one more year of high school and, even now looking back, I'm amazed at the transformation of our relationship. I don't know how many trips Heath and I made by ourselves from far western Kansas to Wichita, but I do know that during that year he asked me to turn off the radio and just talk to him. We had to laugh about this...isn't that what mommas usually asked their kids to do? I loved these long, uninterrupted conversations with my son with some 80s music thrown in for fun.
When he got his diploma, I cried. I cried hard. There was a time that I didn't think he would put in the effort to make it through. He made it very clear to me that he was finishing because I wanted him to...not because he saw the value in it. I assured him that he would not be sorry.
Heath went off to college and did pretty well that first year, considering his lack of effort throughout high school. He surprised us that spring when he informed us that he wanted to join the service and was considering the Navy. He made the decision to enlist, following in the footsteps of my dad and his Aunt Lisa. I was proud of his decision to serve our country. As a member of the Cardinal Company he took his oath in Busch Stadium prior to a St. Louis Cardinals game. We (dad, mom, brother, and sisters) got to be on the field to watch. Todd reached down with an empty medicine bottle to scoop up a bit of the stadium during that proud moment.
My parents were able to join us for Heath's graduation from boot camp outside of Chicago. He was so handsome in his dress blues! That Christmas he asked Stef to marry him. Being my child, he is a bit impatient. So, I wasn't too surprised when he called and said to get a ticket and come out because they didn't want to waste time planning a wedding, they were ready to be married. On St. Patrick's Day of 2008, I watched my son marry the woman he loves in the City Hall in Bath, Maine in the presence of his Shipmates and his mother. The joyous event was followed by Barbeque (in Maine?) and bowling (it was league night). It was perfect. It was so.....Heath!
This past year he became a "Plank Owner" of a new destroyer, the Sterett. They are now settled into their new lives together in San Diego experiencing all of those "firsts" that come in the beginning stages of a marriage.
Heath called me tonight...just to talk to his "Momma". He was bubbling over with pride talking about his job, his accomplishments, praises that he has received from his superiors, and his dedication to the U.S. Navy. I just listened...and smiled...and even laughed out loud. Heath's beginnings, his challenges, the chips on his shoulders, and his setbacks did not define my son, he is defining himself.
God has big plans for my son, Heath. I know it.
As my oldest child entered this world, I realized that something was wrong. It had been a long labor and we were all tired--including the doctor and my great nurse (who was also the mother of a classmate of mine). But as he started to cry and I looked at the faces of my caregivers, it was obvious that there was a problem. I will never forget my words, "Is he all there?" The doctor gently explained to me that he was fine but that he had a cleft lip and palate. At my young age I had never even heard of a cleft. When they handed my son to me, I was terrified. What did this mean? Was he mentally okay?
His foot was also bent way back. Heath was a big baby and I had been feeling that foot at the bottom of my right rib cage for months! Those feet were huge!
So, our journey together started.
With the cleft Heath couldn't get good suction. It would take me 2 hours to get 2 ounces of formula in him. He was so hungry. I remember rocking in my hand-me-down rocking chair all night trying to fill him up and wishing I could go to bed. During those first few months I watched more than my share of middle-of-the-night Gilligan's Island and MASH episodes. At some point we realized that if we pinched his cheeks, it closed the gap, and he could get more down. I have some great video footage of my younger sister (an 8th grader at the time) using this technique to feed her nephew. It's precious!
At three months, Heath had his first surgery. I can't tell you what it's like to send your baby into surgery. I remember walking back as far as they would let me then crying my way back to the waiting room--praying that all would go as planned.
The first time I fed him after the surgery I looked at my mother and told her that something was not right. He was able to drink so much easier! We realized as we sat in the hospital room that, for the first time, we weren't listening to the loud slurping sounds that always accompanied a feeding. If felt good to laugh with relief.
Over the years, Heath had many surgeries. He got braces very young and went through ear tubes, speech therapy, retainers, glasses (with a stigmatism), and braces on his feet due to the one being bent so far back.
Speaking of feet...
When Heath was in the 1st grade (at the tender age of 6) we went to get a pair of school shoes. After measuring Heath's feet, the salesman informed me that boys shoes only went up to size 5. Heath needed a 6. We would need to go to the men's section. What?!?! Starting that year, Heath's shoe size matched his age. At 10 he wore a men's 10. At 13...a 13. At 15...15. Thank goodness that this is where it stopped! It was pretty funny that Todd got Heath's hand-me-down shoes when he outgrew the 12's at 13. Uncle Marc got some when Heath was only 11! I always told Heath, "You know what they say: The bigger the feet.......the bigger the shoes!" He didn't get this little joke until he was MUCH older!
We read every night. I loved reading to Heath and singing to him. He was such a beautiful and special little guy with enough personality for 5 boys. He must've been about 3 when, on a very windy day, I went outside our apartment to check on him and newspaper pages were swirling everywhere in the wind. It didn't take long to spot Heath with arms thrown up in the air watching his masterpiece--all of my neighbors' papers dismembered and flung in the wind by my child for amusement!
Macster will never let him forget the time he hitched a ride home with us. After stopping for Mexican food in Dodge City, we headed down the road with Heath still finishing his meal. At some point I asked Heath if he was finished and, when he assured me that he was, I threw the rest of the stinky burrito out the window. For the rest of that trip (about an hour!) we had to listen to Heath repeatedly wail, "I want my burrito!" Poor Macster waited a long, long time to have his first child.
School wasn't easy for my little guy. I'm really not sure why, but he just didn't have the drive to really try. I'd swear that every teacher he ever had wanted to pull his/her hair out with frustration because he/she knew Heath could do the work but, for some reason, chose not to. As a teacher myself, it drove me nuts...especially since I knew how bright he was.
We began to butt heads. It was hard for me to choose my battles with him because there were just so many. My son and I had to hit bottom and start back over in our relationship. Maybe it was because we had been through so much together. Maybe it was because we were so alike. Maybe it was God's way of showing us how much we needed and loved each other. Early in this time of reconciliation, Heath had to go through a major surgery. His top jaw had to be sawed off and reset. I think that the extended period of time when he couldn't talk played a big role in our healing. My son wrote on his little Magna Doodle that he loved me more than I had heard it from him in the previous several years. I really needed that. Strangely enough, since that surgery Heath has not had a stigmatism.
I'm thankful that Heath had one more year of high school and, even now looking back, I'm amazed at the transformation of our relationship. I don't know how many trips Heath and I made by ourselves from far western Kansas to Wichita, but I do know that during that year he asked me to turn off the radio and just talk to him. We had to laugh about this...isn't that what mommas usually asked their kids to do? I loved these long, uninterrupted conversations with my son with some 80s music thrown in for fun.
When he got his diploma, I cried. I cried hard. There was a time that I didn't think he would put in the effort to make it through. He made it very clear to me that he was finishing because I wanted him to...not because he saw the value in it. I assured him that he would not be sorry.
Heath went off to college and did pretty well that first year, considering his lack of effort throughout high school. He surprised us that spring when he informed us that he wanted to join the service and was considering the Navy. He made the decision to enlist, following in the footsteps of my dad and his Aunt Lisa. I was proud of his decision to serve our country. As a member of the Cardinal Company he took his oath in Busch Stadium prior to a St. Louis Cardinals game. We (dad, mom, brother, and sisters) got to be on the field to watch. Todd reached down with an empty medicine bottle to scoop up a bit of the stadium during that proud moment.
My parents were able to join us for Heath's graduation from boot camp outside of Chicago. He was so handsome in his dress blues! That Christmas he asked Stef to marry him. Being my child, he is a bit impatient. So, I wasn't too surprised when he called and said to get a ticket and come out because they didn't want to waste time planning a wedding, they were ready to be married. On St. Patrick's Day of 2008, I watched my son marry the woman he loves in the City Hall in Bath, Maine in the presence of his Shipmates and his mother. The joyous event was followed by Barbeque (in Maine?) and bowling (it was league night). It was perfect. It was so.....Heath!
This past year he became a "Plank Owner" of a new destroyer, the Sterett. They are now settled into their new lives together in San Diego experiencing all of those "firsts" that come in the beginning stages of a marriage.
Heath called me tonight...just to talk to his "Momma". He was bubbling over with pride talking about his job, his accomplishments, praises that he has received from his superiors, and his dedication to the U.S. Navy. I just listened...and smiled...and even laughed out loud. Heath's beginnings, his challenges, the chips on his shoulders, and his setbacks did not define my son, he is defining himself.
God has big plans for my son, Heath. I know it.
That was so good! I loved it! It made me cry!
ReplyDeleteGina,
ReplyDeleteI laughed and cried throughout my reading of your adventure with Heath. I often stopped to add some of my own memories of your special young man. Believe it or not, during those difficult years, Shelby and I enjoyed visiting with him at the pool and were amazed at how polite and cordial he was! So grown up compared to some of the kids we knew...Thanks for sharing; you're a wonderful writer!
Thanks for makin me cry....geez....Heath is a great kid...and he has an awesome mom...
ReplyDelete