Henrik had a birthday, and we are done with the preemie life! I have never been so ready for something to be officially done. Going through the preemie experience a second time was like a bad movie sequel. It was the same basic plot without the magical feeling of seeing something for the first time.
Regardless, I am the luckiest person I know. A piano could fall on me tomorrow, and I'd feel the same way. We went through Hell twice, but exited unscathed, twice. We had not right to do so, but here we are.
I have so many more emotions wrapped up in Henrik's prematurity and hospitalization than I did the first time. These feelings create many cross currents. Yet, I settle on thankfulness. I carry with me a strong sense of thankfulness.
It's appropriate that Henrik was born close to Thanksgiving. I see him and am filled with thanks. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.It's a realistic holiday. Things could be worse, maybe things could be better, but how are you going to approach life? I choose thanksgiving. I didn't always, and I go through patches where I am less thankful than I should be, but I find my way back to the path of thanksgiving.
I'm thankful for Texas. We had so many generous, helpful, knowledgeable, and generally wonderful friends, family, and colleagues who helped us through the tough times. We had medical expertise, meals, babysitting, and that was just Deepa and Ray! So many people helped us in so many ways. Houston gave us Henrik. Whenever I see a "H" on an Astros cap, I think Henrik as much as Houston! I never imagined that someplace could feel so much like home in only three years. I owe so much to that ugly, crowded, fetid, wonderful, friendly, caring, generous swamp. as.
I could keep rambling, but I can't really think clearly. Happy Birthday, Henrik, We love you more than you will know until you have kids of your own. God Bless You! God Bless Texas! And, as always, don't mess with Texas.
Wednesday, November 18, 2015
Saturday, July 25, 2015
Summertime of Life
Today Anders turned six. As the anniversary approaches, I think increasingly about the events of six years ago this week. This year was especially strong in my mind since July 25th fell on a Saturday, as it did in 2009.
"You never know what's going to happen." -Anders
He loves this phrase, and it's so fitting.
"Remember the good times." -Anders
He uses this phrase when Anna and I are bickering or if he's getting in trouble.
"Get out of here, Clowns!" -Anders uses this when clowns appear in parades, and he fears that they might threaten Anna. It happened today at the Nordic Fest Grand Parade. Anders and I were on the curb, while Anna was a few rows back with Henrik. Anders had to find Anna and make sure that she was okay.
Anders has turned into such a sweet and thoughtful kid. He's also quite perceptive. Anders is even finally warming to the idea of Henrik, and even Henrik the person, in spurts.
I had this whole thing I was going to write, but then Anna and I started talking about the Andrik Project, and now I'm exhausted, that and two days of Festing. I love seeing all the people I knew or still know in Decorah. It's also fun to see the boys interact with them, or not, mostly not, at this age. Anyway, at least I enjoy it.
The summary of what I would have written is that what I can now see is that I entered the summertime of my life six years ago. Spring was over. That's fine. Spring is volatile with wild extremes. You might have snow or 90 degree temperatures. There could be blooms and flowers surrounding you or days of uninterrupted rain drowning one's spirit.
Summer, and I'm talking about summer in Minnesota, is more stable than spring. It's between 80 and 90 degrees, mostly sunny, chance of rain. That's life in your 30s with young kids. It's good. The days are long, but it's honest work. Sometimes you'd like a break from the heat, but summer is fleeting. It will be August soon, and you will be thinking about the next season. While it's July, you live in the moment because there is too much happening all around you. There is no choice. Life is so unrelenting that I'm happy to have July 25th to force me to reflect.
One final thing, we are the luckiest people I know. I hate when people say that we were "blessed" because were we not blessed when the boys came prematurely? In other words, did we go from "unblessed" on July 25th to "blessed" later when Anders was fine? Same exact thing with Henrik? I don't believe that line of thought.
Well, that's should clear out the Hashtag Blessed Crew from this weblog. I get cranky when I keep writing after promising to stop hundreds of words before.
I'll spare you the cliches, but all of those life cliches hit us like a ton of bricks on and after July 25, 2009. Some days, I'd like nothing more than to come home and fall asleep to a "Seinfeld" rerun, but if I did that today, I'd have a Period Table of Elements block thrown at my head...that's life in July.
"You never know what's going to happen." -Anders
He loves this phrase, and it's so fitting.
"Remember the good times." -Anders
He uses this phrase when Anna and I are bickering or if he's getting in trouble.
"Get out of here, Clowns!" -Anders uses this when clowns appear in parades, and he fears that they might threaten Anna. It happened today at the Nordic Fest Grand Parade. Anders and I were on the curb, while Anna was a few rows back with Henrik. Anders had to find Anna and make sure that she was okay.
Anders has turned into such a sweet and thoughtful kid. He's also quite perceptive. Anders is even finally warming to the idea of Henrik, and even Henrik the person, in spurts.
I had this whole thing I was going to write, but then Anna and I started talking about the Andrik Project, and now I'm exhausted, that and two days of Festing. I love seeing all the people I knew or still know in Decorah. It's also fun to see the boys interact with them, or not, mostly not, at this age. Anyway, at least I enjoy it.
The summary of what I would have written is that what I can now see is that I entered the summertime of my life six years ago. Spring was over. That's fine. Spring is volatile with wild extremes. You might have snow or 90 degree temperatures. There could be blooms and flowers surrounding you or days of uninterrupted rain drowning one's spirit.
Summer, and I'm talking about summer in Minnesota, is more stable than spring. It's between 80 and 90 degrees, mostly sunny, chance of rain. That's life in your 30s with young kids. It's good. The days are long, but it's honest work. Sometimes you'd like a break from the heat, but summer is fleeting. It will be August soon, and you will be thinking about the next season. While it's July, you live in the moment because there is too much happening all around you. There is no choice. Life is so unrelenting that I'm happy to have July 25th to force me to reflect.
One final thing, we are the luckiest people I know. I hate when people say that we were "blessed" because were we not blessed when the boys came prematurely? In other words, did we go from "unblessed" on July 25th to "blessed" later when Anders was fine? Same exact thing with Henrik? I don't believe that line of thought.
Well, that's should clear out the Hashtag Blessed Crew from this weblog. I get cranky when I keep writing after promising to stop hundreds of words before.
I'll spare you the cliches, but all of those life cliches hit us like a ton of bricks on and after July 25, 2009. Some days, I'd like nothing more than to come home and fall asleep to a "Seinfeld" rerun, but if I did that today, I'd have a Period Table of Elements block thrown at my head...that's life in July.
Sunday, April 5, 2015
Happy Easter
I see that I haven't posted since July. I've been a bit busy. I hope this post makes up for it.
Today is Easter. I am never late for church on Easter Sunday. With two small sons, we are often late for church. Heck, when it was just Anna and me, we were often late for church. I am never late for church on Easter Sunday because the opener is "Jesus Christ is Risen Today." This is my favorite hymn, and perhaps my favorite piece of music.
We go to a big suburban church in Apple Valley, MN that was having services every hour on the hour all morning. We arrived three minutes early, but you would have thought that we were late as all the seats in the sanctuary seemed to be filled. There were rows of overflow seating in the spacious lobby, but that would not have truly felt like attending church. Knowing that I was entering a sanctuary full of Lutherans, it was a good bet that there would be some seats at the front. Bingo! The only problem was that they were right next to the brass section assembled for the lead off number.
I held Henrik, ready for anything, expecting a freak out over the noise. Instead, he soaked it all in. Henrik looked older, contemplative, even regal as he looked up and off into the distance.
Maybe he was thinking of the miles he had traveled. I was. Last Easter was the first time we took Henrik to church or any large social gathering for that matter after his 96 day hospitalization. As I held my younger son, I thought of all that we had been through, the good fortune, and God's grace. A single tear ran down my cheek, a cliche, but I was glad it was alone. We are stoic, Scandinavian Lutherans after all.
Then, toward the end of the service, I had a moment with Anders during "Now All the Vault of Heaven Resounds." He was sitting a row in front of me, as Henrik had been messing with him earlier. Anders was "making portraits of his classmates" in the bulletin. He's currently obsessed with the official portraits of the Presidents of the United States. Anna was out walking Henrik around. I was singing, but mostly listening to, this hymn, "Christ has triumphed! He is living!" I began crying again, a bit harder this time. I replayed all the thoughts I had about Henrik, but with more force this time. The years deepen the bond and add more power to the feelings.
Then I thought about where we were, Minnesota. Anna had never wanted to leave, and she spent most of our marriage convinced that we would not return in our vital years. Yet, right after the service we were headed up the road to Aunt Kathy's for Easter Brunch!
I didn't think about it at the time, but visiting our new niece, Elin Johanna, for the first time yesterday at a place where Anders had been hospitalized for 48 days in 2009, likely brought back to us some traumatic stress. Meeting Elin was the highlight of the year, but doing so at a place where we have many mixed memories was harder than I considered at the time. Neither of us had been back since November 2009. but various things triggered memories, for Anna the Paul Granlund statue in the lobby, for me the walk into the hospital past the ER. Anna figured out that Fairview Southdale had set us off as we bickered over nothing in the Southdale Mall.
The coup de grace was that the pastor's sermon featured his yearly visit in March to the grave of a four year old former parishioner. For Anders, still obsessed with death, this was the only part of the sermon he really listened to. This girl was two years younger than me. Her tombstone read "See you later Alligator."
Their isolettes evoked coffins. They looked fragile enough to pass away. These notions I pushed away every day my sons were in the hospital, and I continue to push away these ideas. Anders and Henrik rose out of these circumstances to become our normal, healthy kids. When I think about the NICUs, I feel guilty that my kids made it out unscathed or made it at all. That's what I usually think, when I still allow myself to think about it or else I just ask "why?" Yet, on Easter, every Easter, and it's only become more powerful over the last year, I rejoice. I celebrate my family, and God from whom all blessings flow.
Today is Easter. I am never late for church on Easter Sunday. With two small sons, we are often late for church. Heck, when it was just Anna and me, we were often late for church. I am never late for church on Easter Sunday because the opener is "Jesus Christ is Risen Today." This is my favorite hymn, and perhaps my favorite piece of music.
We go to a big suburban church in Apple Valley, MN that was having services every hour on the hour all morning. We arrived three minutes early, but you would have thought that we were late as all the seats in the sanctuary seemed to be filled. There were rows of overflow seating in the spacious lobby, but that would not have truly felt like attending church. Knowing that I was entering a sanctuary full of Lutherans, it was a good bet that there would be some seats at the front. Bingo! The only problem was that they were right next to the brass section assembled for the lead off number.
I held Henrik, ready for anything, expecting a freak out over the noise. Instead, he soaked it all in. Henrik looked older, contemplative, even regal as he looked up and off into the distance.
Maybe he was thinking of the miles he had traveled. I was. Last Easter was the first time we took Henrik to church or any large social gathering for that matter after his 96 day hospitalization. As I held my younger son, I thought of all that we had been through, the good fortune, and God's grace. A single tear ran down my cheek, a cliche, but I was glad it was alone. We are stoic, Scandinavian Lutherans after all.
Then, toward the end of the service, I had a moment with Anders during "Now All the Vault of Heaven Resounds." He was sitting a row in front of me, as Henrik had been messing with him earlier. Anders was "making portraits of his classmates" in the bulletin. He's currently obsessed with the official portraits of the Presidents of the United States. Anna was out walking Henrik around. I was singing, but mostly listening to, this hymn, "Christ has triumphed! He is living!" I began crying again, a bit harder this time. I replayed all the thoughts I had about Henrik, but with more force this time. The years deepen the bond and add more power to the feelings.
Then I thought about where we were, Minnesota. Anna had never wanted to leave, and she spent most of our marriage convinced that we would not return in our vital years. Yet, right after the service we were headed up the road to Aunt Kathy's for Easter Brunch!
I didn't think about it at the time, but visiting our new niece, Elin Johanna, for the first time yesterday at a place where Anders had been hospitalized for 48 days in 2009, likely brought back to us some traumatic stress. Meeting Elin was the highlight of the year, but doing so at a place where we have many mixed memories was harder than I considered at the time. Neither of us had been back since November 2009. but various things triggered memories, for Anna the Paul Granlund statue in the lobby, for me the walk into the hospital past the ER. Anna figured out that Fairview Southdale had set us off as we bickered over nothing in the Southdale Mall.
The coup de grace was that the pastor's sermon featured his yearly visit in March to the grave of a four year old former parishioner. For Anders, still obsessed with death, this was the only part of the sermon he really listened to. This girl was two years younger than me. Her tombstone read "See you later Alligator."
Their isolettes evoked coffins. They looked fragile enough to pass away. These notions I pushed away every day my sons were in the hospital, and I continue to push away these ideas. Anders and Henrik rose out of these circumstances to become our normal, healthy kids. When I think about the NICUs, I feel guilty that my kids made it out unscathed or made it at all. That's what I usually think, when I still allow myself to think about it or else I just ask "why?" Yet, on Easter, every Easter, and it's only become more powerful over the last year, I rejoice. I celebrate my family, and God from whom all blessings flow.
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