Lately the weather here in North Carolina has been – for lack of a better word – possessed. One weekend it’s snowing and the van is encased in ice, and then a few days later it’s 70 degrees. Go figure. I’m not complaining, though, I appreciate some really mild weather this time of year; after all, I grew up in Connecticut, where the snow can get waist-deep, so this is much appreciated. Anyways, we were recently taking advantage of a fairly nice evening outside with our fire pit. It was a little cool outside, so we had some light jackets on and made some hot cocoa and just hung out before putting the kids to bed. Grant loves the fire pit, referring to it as the “fire camp,” so he was excited to hear we were starting the fire. Of course, our kids’ attention span lasted a whole 42.7 seconds and they were off playing with toys in the back yard, which is just fine. At one point, Nolan was playing with a metal Tonka dump truck and was piling all sorts of stuff into the back: a football, a small skateboard, a bowling pin, a bucket. And it was cute seeing him lost in the world of play. My wife commented how “it’s nice to see him just doing little boy stuff.” And it’s true: you’ve been there too – where you look at your Heart Kid doing even the most “normal” things and you just appreciate it, because they’ve been through so very much.
As a dad, I live for all the moments and all the memories with my kids. Walking, first words, first days of school, piling on top of their poor old man:
School performances, Donuts with Dads, parent teacher conferences, etc. I live for it and I will do everything possible not to miss those moments. I’m so thankful for that chance.
Lately I’ve been really thinking about those types of moments and how fortunate I am to experience them. My job is really flexible in letting me attend school stuff or appointments and it means a lot to me and the kids, too. Even time at the park is a joy:
But as a Heart Dad I really want to acknowledge that there’s a tremendous amount of sacrifice that goes into the opportunity to make those moments happen.
Every single day – rain or shine, snow or sleet – there are a group of people who leave their homes while it’s still dark, or leave home while most people are just getting home from work, and they park their cars, ride an elevator, badge in on a time clock, wash their hands, and get to work. Some of them walk into the room where I’ve sat, sleepless and helpless with my son on a vent, and say, “Hi, I’ll be your son’s nurse today.” Some of them load up a cart of cleaning supplies and work hard to keep things clean and avoid the spread of germs. Some lug a ladder down the hall to replace a burned-out light bulb so a nurse can see better when he or she is charting. Some fire up the grill in the cafeteria to sling burgers and chicken sandwiches for hungry families and staff. Some scrub in for a grueling surgery in an effort to safe a kid’s life. Some land a helicopter on the roof, carrying a life that needs desperate help from the best team available. These are the hospital workers…and they sacrifice so much for us.
I really want to use this post to acknowledge all the hospital workers – clinicians and non-clinicians – who give so much so that we can enjoy so much. You have lives, you have families, and you have memories you want to make, too. I just want you all to know that it’s not lost on me that sometimes you sacrifice a school performance, a bedtime story, a goodnight kiss, a good push on the swings…all for my son, and to give us the chance to enjoy him. I know you put up with a lot: the demands, the long hours, the demands, the hours without peeing, the hours without eating, the sad stories. I see you, and I thank you. It’s your job, but I know your job comes with a steep price: you could do anything else in this world but you choose what you do, and I could never enjoy the memories I have without you.
So hospital workers – wherever you are, whatever you do – just know that you are loved, you are appreciated, and your sacrifices truly do pave the way for magical moments in a Heart Family’s life. Your work is not in vain, your work is priceless.
This is the second entry in a series about thankfulness.
What would I do without my family? We’re like a basketball team…but with only one tall player. And I love them all. Today’s post is a big thank-you to the rest of my family:
Oh this kid. My oldest and most hilarious. I can’t believe how big he’s getting! He’s figuring out this whole big brother thing, but he’s showing glimpses of absolutely adoring his brothers, even though he gets annoyed when they steal his stuff. Such will be our life for MANY years to come. I really enjoy watching him grow and all the things he’s learning. And I just believe how hilarious he is, whether it’s his insanely imaginative imagination or him replacing “It’s Time to Dance” from Yo Gabba Gabba with “It’s Time to Fart.” Hudson is also a wealth of safety advice like “Don’t stand next to a volcano.” He’s so loving and smart and he taught me how to be a dad, and I just love him so much.
Nolan’s twin brother and technically the youngest of the 3 boys (by 2 minutes!). He is a funny little ball of craziness, who loves to dance and wear other people’s shoes around the house. Since he’s been in preschool this year we’ve discovered that he really likes art…loves to paint and color…so maybe we have a little artist in the house? I love to hear his “Hi Dada” when I get home from work and I laugh when he wants to roughhouse in the living room. His laugh is just the best. The one thing I absolutely love about Grant is that while a lot of the time he wants to steal Nolan’s toys or be a brute, he will always want to share with his twin brother. If we give grant a cookie, for example, he will immediately go take it to Nolan then come back for one for himself. If only the world were so giving.
This is the real MVP of our family and the love of my life. She works hard wrangling three kids during the day, doing school pick up and drop-off, taking Nolan to appointments and therapies, and then works nights 4 nights a week. She is the one who gets Nolan through all his therapies and encourages to do better, she’s the one who fights for Nolan to eat by mouth, she’s the one who keeps our household running smoothly. Without her drive, Nolan would not have accomplished have the things he’s done so far in his life. Plus she puts up with a household of crazy males! I can’t imagine living this life without my amazing teammate, and I love every moment with her. Thanks for being awesome, babe!
Man, I love my family…my little traveling circus…my band of crazies…I just love them all. I love that they make me laugh and smile and keep me sane. I’m so thankful for every one of them and for the joy they bring me every day!
The start to Nolan’s Progressive Care stay was pretty frustrating for us. The day after he went to that floor, I was preoccupied with the thought that he was completely alone when Bekah or I weren’t there with him. Here he was, almost 2 months old: he couldn’t press a call button when he was in pain…all he could do was cry, and I couldn’t help but think there was no one around to hear him. God, that made me such a wreck. It was all I could think about at work that day, I was pretty much useless.
I continued being the Incredible Sulk for much of the day until I was able to hop in the car and haul down the hospital. I was like a man possessed: I just wanted to get there and spend every second holding him and loving on him, just to make up for every moment he was alone. When I got to the hospital, I checked in with his nurse and asked how his day went. She said, “Oh Mr. Nolan had a very good day: we started this program called the Cuddle Crew today and volunteers held him for hours.” I wanted to fall over right there. The stress, the worry, it all left me like air out of a balloon. Then suddenly I was happy and hopeful again. I thanked the nurse and went right in to spend time with my little man.
I can’t express how much thanks we owe to the volunteers on the Cuddle Crew. They gave their free time to invest in Nolan…and other kids too. Sadly there are some kids on the Progressive Care floor who have zero parents around…ever. They’re there alone because there is no one there for them. And these volunteers make a REAL difference. I had the peace of mind of knowing someone was there to love on my Nolan…and it meant the world to me. Thank you, Cuddle Crew, from the bottom of my heart!
And I can’t say enough wonderful things about Levine Children’s Hospital Volunteers as a whole. I remember one Saturday getting a knock on Nolan’s door: it was a teenage volunteer, who brought a cart of goodies and asked if I needed anything. She had toothpaste, deodorant, books, candy, snacks, you name it. All the things to make our stay comfortable. When you spend a ton of time in the hospital with a sick child, you often forget to take care of yourself too. That’s where the volunteers come in. They would come and bring toys for Nolan and were always asking if we needed anything. They were awesome. Thank you all!