"Life will knock you down. You can choose to stand up again."
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Kaydon Turns 12
Dear KK, You made it twelve years on this earth! I remember your birth, probably more vividly than any of my other births. At 36 weeks, I went into labor. I had a two year old and a one year old at home. At seven inches dilated, you thought it would be a funny joke to do a flip and put your foot down the birth canal. C-section it was. Dr. Pead and Papa gave me a blessing, then whisked me into the delivery room. I was very scared. Papa sat at my head, rubbed my hair and quietly sang "Love at Home." This was Grandma Robb's favorite hymn. It brings me such peace. Suddenly, I saw Grandma in the room. She passed away three years before your birth. But, she came to bring you to me. She handed you to the doctors, who then handed you to me. Papa saw her too, which made me so thankful. She was with you often throughout your first few years. You had cute red hair, which was adorable. Just weeks after you were born, things took a big turn for the worse. You were very, very sick. You were losing a lot of weight. I was losing you. I put NG tubes in you all day, everyday. This was how you "ate." But, you would pull them out constantly, so I was always putting them back in. At six weeks old, you had a Nissen operation. They wrapped your stomach around your esophagus and tied it there. This would prevent vomiting. Then, they put a permanent G-tube in your stomach to feed you that way. You were in the hospital all the time, usually in isolation. You were so sick. The doctors would sometimes tell me that they couldn't do anything else to help you. I would hold you tight, rock you, sing "Love at Home," and tell you how brave you were and that if you were done, you could go home. You would just fight a little harder each time. Soon, you had a para-esophageal hernia repair, a tightening of the Nissen, and a G-J Tube placement. You had multiple procedures done over your first three years. You had physical, occupational, and speech therapy. You had a hospice nurse who loved you and adored you. You had multiple blessings, multiple prayers, multiple fasts done on your behalf. At three years old, I was tired of seeing you suffer. I asked the doctor to remove your feeding tube. He told me that you would surely die, as you had never taken anything by mouth to this point. I told him that I had faith. He removed it. You began to thrive. You began eating and jabbering and walking. You slowly learned to assimilate into the life of a toddler. You have never, ever had it easy. Everything has been a struggle for you. Academically, you have always been quite behind. Socially, things are a little awkward. But, oh Kaydon, you are a fighter. The most brave kind of fighter. You fight everyday to get to where you need to be. You are thriving. You are creative, imaginative, funny, and sensitive. You love your mommy, movies, legos, and animals. I love you to the moon.