Happy Birthday to our oldest!

Every parent's query: Where have the years gone

It's hard to believe after all these years.  As Protestants, we were free to take extensive measures to avoid a pregnancy early on in our marriage.  My main goal was to complete my masters degree before we began the process of family building.  But, alas, God would have no part of it.  Despite every possible precaution within reason, we discovered on a chilly morning in January in the mid-90s that we were going to be parents.  

My wife fussed to her OB/GYN that we had done everything by the book - the Atomic Clock has a larger margin of error - and yet here we are.  Her OB/GYN just chuckled and said something that was supposed to be humorous, but was rather profound if you think on it: 'Someone has to make up the statistics'.  That's great for a punch line but, let's face it, it's a fact our modern world avoids dealing with like the plague.  

Anyhoo, becoming first time parents we kicked into hyper-drive. First up?  We were living in student housing sans washer and dryer (that's because the housing was rather shabby, and such appliances had a tendency of crashing through the upper floors).  The bottom floor apartments had them, but not the upper floors, which is where we lived.  The thought of spending the first years as parents in a laundry mat around the clock just gave me the shakes. 

So I began an Andy Dupree strategy of pestering the housing department at the school so we could move to a bottom floor apartment before our baby was born.  Every day I would go to the office and ask 'Is there an opening on the first floor?, Is There An Opening On The First Floor??, IS THERE AN OPENING ON THE FIRST FLOOR???'.  Heh.  I do believe they got sick of seeing me every day.  That's why, in August, we were informed they would move us to the top of the list so we got the next bottom floor apartment that opened up. 

Meanwhile we continued with the usual: Dr. Spock, birthing classes, getting the nursery prepared (the first of many times I would lose my office), and prepping for the big event.  Then it happened.  And after 38 hours of labor for my wife, and about twenty gallons of coffee for me, our oldest made his big entrance.  I appreciate people who adopt children, or raise children as their own even if they've never had any themselves.  They are champs in my eyes.

But nothing will match the feeling of being a parent and seeing your child born before your very eyes, especially for the first time.  We already had seen the rather grainy ultrasounds.  Even in those primitive images we saw his customary stubbornness on full display.  As the technician would attempt to get him to cooperate with the imaging, we would watch him push back with his little hands and feet with a willfulness my wife and I would learn all too well over the years.  But seeing him the moment he was born - words will never do justice.

Not that it's been easy.  Our oldest has in many ways born the brunt of many ill fortunes.  Beyond having to be our learning curve, he was also hit with several health issues in his early days.  We got to be personal friends with his pediatrician (it didn't hurt that we were among his first patients).  In and out of hospitals and doctors' offices, surgery, medicines galore, and health scares well into his early teens, he kept us hopping.  He also showed a quiet resiliency and determination through it all that I came to admire.

A reserved, solitary soul, he bounced around ideas for life into late high school and beyond, when his love of cooking (and his skill at cooking) became center stage.  It was then he decided a career as a gourmet chef would be a great way to spend a life, and began plans accordingly.  

But it was not to be.  Just as he was poised to begin his culinary education proper, he was blindsided by a fatal seafood allergy.  So bad is it that he can't be near a lake when people are fishing, or be in a Walmart if they are cleaning the seafood counters on the other side of the store.  Needless to say, he can't eat a a restaurant that serves any seafood (most restaurants).  He can't even be near when someone is eating tuna or salmon.  Exactly  how that will play out in his career if he works with others who bring lunches is something we've not figured yet.

It took him a while to figure out what to do, as the culinary school was blunt and honest that if he wants to be a chef, he'll have to do it on his own. No school would be able, or willing, to accommodate such a risky disability.  Knowing the limits, and seeing himself as young enough to change, he decided to keep trudging on in school while he figured things out.

He has now, as he has made it through school and is poised to graduate.  A born student, he's accumulated a GPA that would open any door to any graduate school, even the Ivy League variety.  I won't mention his actual vocational plans, but I do know that he's wondering how the strange number of courses dealing with Africa and the Middle East that seemed to come his way will figure into them.  

All in all, he's been more than a blessing, as all the boys have been.  Not perfect of course.  Who is?  But in terms of first children, we couldn't have done better.  He's often my right hand man and go to when it comes to leaning on someone to step in when I'm not around.  He possesses a strong sense of himself, a strong faith, and an ability to keep his head on straight that has gotten him through much in life.  

Several years ago, my wife and I went on a rare date together.  The boys were home watching over my mom for us.  We went to a new Italian place that opened down the road.   About halfway into the meal, my phone rang.  I answered and it was my oldest.  With almost deadpan delivery, he merely said, "I think there's a problem.  The stove exploded."   If you want panic, you should have seen me bolting out of the restaurant.  But him?  He made it sound no more unusual than asking if we could pick up milk on the way home.  That's our boy.  So happy birthday and a year's blessings ahead ... and thanks for being the first child we needed!

Praying or waiting to eat - either way, a nice pic that captures the 'him'