William will be 5 years old this Sunday, September 11. We rejoice! Here is a poem I wrote some time ago. Happy Birthday, son. William’s Storm… Barely above a pound jettisoned into life Peeking through gauze Poked, prodded, stuck and skewered Surrounded by white coats, bright lights, beeps and bottles hanging on poles. Home […]
Despite William’s uphill battle, life went on. My day started at 430am and still does. I opened our gym before 6am, went to visit with William around 7am for about an hour, returned to the gym and closed at 8pm, went back to visit with William until 11pm, went home hoping to sleep without hearing from the hospital. That in itself was a challenge. Even if the phone never rang my sleepless nights seemed to be routine. This went on for 92 days. Some days were better than others, of course. Either way, I got to see my boy! I guess everyday was a good day. Perspective. I often wished I were he or that he were me. I would have done anything to trade places with my son. He was barely 2 pounds but his shoes were much harder to fill. They were way bigger than mine. I was up for the challenge. Our favorite nurse, Debbie, told us to keep a journal. She said to write in it every day and one day we would appreciate looking back at it. Today is one of those days. Regardless of the storm our family was going through, I was able to write down some encouraging words in our journal.