You Are My Sonshine!
Adam's Mom
From the moment he was born on March 16…well, probably before he was born…I wanted to teach him so much. Every parent wants to teach their children the life lessons that fill life with more meaning…more purpose.
But from the second they placed this newborn baby in my arms, he was teaching me.
With this 3rd cesarean birth, my doctor could tell this would be my last baby. I remember being in the operating room when he told I wouldn’t be able to have any more children. I remember yelling “NO!....I wanted LOTS of children. I wanted to take up a whole pew at church with our family. I wanted a girl…a daughter…I wanted to buy nightgowns and ribbons and pinks. I remember saying “NO!” right there in the operating room before they had placed this beautiful baby in my arms. Then came the first lesson. I thought I wanted 5 girls but the minute I held him I knew 3 boys would be enough.
Without knowing the lesson, he taught me the importance of APGAR scores for newborn babies. His first score was only 6 and I learned quickly that 9 or 10 was so much better. I learned quickly about the breath of life.
Just a few hours later, he taught me about falling in love at first sight. I had lost spinal fluid and had to lay flat on my back for 24 hours without moving. I couldn’t see him or hold him and all of a sudden I missed him so much and my heart hurt more than that horrendous headache. I just wanted to see him again. I just wanted him back.
I learned the horror of severe collick. And I mean SEVERE. Before we left the hospital, since the nursery had to tend to him for 24 hours, they told me they believe he has severe collick. It was already evident. Joey and Tim had none of it so Adam became my teacher. It was a tough lesson. The doctors told me his stomach hurt so bad it was like someone shut his finger in the car door and wouldn’t open it. That made me instantly understanding of his screaming. I hated to feed him because I knew the pain would be unbearable for him to feel and for me to watch. Collick lasts for 3 months…I thought it would be a long 3 months but it wasn’t. Adam’s collick was so severe it lasted 9 months. Pat and I learned to rock and sway and sing and hum every hour of the day and night. Through this Adam taught me to cherish our 2 a.m. dates. And I learned how beautiful moonlight can be...especially when shining on a baby in a nursery.
Unfortunately, at the very same time, Adam taught me the panic a mom feels when a 3-day-old has a temp of 103 degrees. I didn’t know it yet but he was going to teach me how a newborn baby has an immune deficiency and will fight 26 bacterial infections in his first year. That doesn’t count the viral stuff…the colds, the flu, the crud. If we weren’t holding him for collick we were holding him for unending infections. Through all that holding, he taught me that you can open a can a Chunky soup with one hand and pour it over noodles or rice and call it a dinner and never put that sick baby down.
He taught me watching a baby get gamma globulin injections make the other vaccinations seem like nothing. The serum was so thick that the needle hurt as much coming out as it did going in. And he needed 3 of them every month for two years. He taught me the value of being honest with kids. Yes we are going to get your shots. Yes, it will hurt a lot. Yes, you can cry. Yes, I will hold you….still.
He taught me that play days and active days were special because of the infections and pain. He taught me that little cars should be lined up just the right way…even at 2 years old. He taught me that love of cars can be passed down from father to son and that the Cozy Coupe is the best toy ever invented.
He taught me that when two older brothers start school, it’s good to have someone to hold onto when that bus comes and you are sitting on that porch watching them leave. Just a year later, when he boarded the bus, he taught me that porch can be a lonely place and that lunch time would be even lonelier.
He taught me that boys can love pink and when they get to choose their own outfit for kindergarten round up that the pink “alligator” shirt looks very handsome with gray jeans. He taught me that a hot pink ball cap can top off the ensemble, especially if mom says yes to the pink socks. Who needs daughters?
He taught me the love and adoration a little brother can have for his biggest brother. Joey was his hero before he even knew what a hero was. From sports to school to games they played together to climbing that tree out front…Joey was his first hero.
He taught me the care a little brother can have for his closest brother. When Tim was sick so much, Adam seemed to understand more than a little brother should. When Tim was sick in the hospital Adam was sick with fear.
Adam taught me the “sibling illness” of cystic fibrosis. Joey and Tim were fighting CF every day of their life, but Adam was fighting losing a mom to hospitalizations (including one whole summer in Denver), the stess of a family in crisis and the guilt of being the “healthy” one.
All these lessons were in the first 5 years of his life. I told you he was a powerful teacher. As life went on the lessons continued and became just as meaningful.
He taught me that starting a job as a teacher aide in first grade at St. Gerard School would be more fun if we went to first grade together…and it was.
He taught me the beauty and the genius of kids who learn differently. I have enough trouble learning the traditional way. You have to be part genius to live in this world and learn differently. He made me a better teacher. He helped me know that no child should ever feel afraid, inadequate or at risk in my classroom. He taught me that no child is learning disabled…they just learn differently and if you pay attention…you can learn your best lessons from them. Adam taught me well.
He taught me that stubbornness and determination would make parenting challenging. I was up to the challenge and so was he. He is his mother’s son.
I also learned that the goofiness in him would challenge me too. There were many times he got sent to his room while I was laughing…sometimes outwardly. A stern “go to your room right now” loses some of the value if you have to giggle in between the words.
I learned that this determination would serve him well in sports. To watch him on a soccer field go after every stinkin’ ball…no matter the score…no matter his injuries…no matter how close to out of bounds the ball was…was pure determination.
I learned that his Canadian blood was at home in a hockey arena. Adam taught me the honor of being a defender. It’s not about goals or even assists. It’s about that fight in the corner, the check against the board, the chase to catch a forward and deliver a powerful message of “not on my shift”. I loved watching Adam play soccer. Now I love watching him run so strongly. But…Adam defending on the ice…one of my favorite lessons game after game after game.
He taught me the pride of making honor roll every report card, every year. He taught me the value of flashcards to study for any subject and any test. And, mostly, he taught me there is no shame in tucking those flashcards in a hockey bag to study between periods. Any wonder why he made honor roll, Dean's List and President's List?
He taught me beauty in perseverance. Parents sit at teacher conferences all the time and hear how bright, how smart, how creative a child may be. I got to hear “nobody has ever worked harder in my class”. I didn’t need to hear anything else. It wasn’t one teacher it was MANY teachers. So you can imagine what coaches would say about him.
He taught me that grown ups don't know everything. They all told me he would outgrow those hugs and those "I love you's"...especially his teenage years....especially in front of his friends. He never, ever did. Neither did his brothers. I suppose the grown ups were right about most sons. Adam wasn't like most sons.
Adam taught me how faith, family and friends can be entwined. How to love a pet and how hard it is to lose one. He taught me how an auntie can be one of your best friends and when you have breakfast dates, sometimes a mom can crash them. He taught me how hard it is to lose a cousin and how to put your pain aside as you help an aunt and uncle and newly-claimed "brother" pick up shattered pieces. He taught me that hearts can get broken and heal…however slowly. He taught me how much a Godfather can love a Godson and how much a Godson can love right back. He taught me that you can have great faith, lose that faith and find your way back to that faith again. (And your family can take up a whole pew in church...if you sit in the short ones...who needs 5 daughters?)
He taught you can question your place in life, your way of life, your purpose of life and find answers to those important questions…if you keep searching. He taught me that most of us are always searching…somehow.
Today, on March 16th, a birthday he proudly shares with his Grandpa Barrons, I celebrate all he has taught me. The big things and the little things. I love how he taught me to appreciate country music (although I fought it for awhile) and I love (and curse) that he got me hooked on HGTV. I love how pets and babies gravitate to him like they sense his specialness. From the time he was teeny baby, fighting life from the beginning, my favorite lullaby for him was “You are my Sunshine.”. Today I hope he knows, he makes me happy when skies are gray. I hope he knows he will never know how much we love him. I hope he knows…28 years later…he is my sonshine…still...always.