Hannah's First Birthday

This time last year, I had no idea what the future held. I was the unprepared father of a 1.5 lb daughter and a tiny son less than half her size. Carla was still sedated, and I had to repeat the news to her several times that first day, because the drugs kept erasing it from her mind each time she slipped back under. Usually quick with answers or a Google search, I kept the statistics to myself this time. Preemies this small, if they survived, rarely escaped the hospital without at least one lifelong disability.

The next few weeks are just a disjointed slideshow to me now, a montage of different hospital rooms and preparations for months of uncertainty, which was all the doctors would commit to. The joy of parenthood was replaced with a weird mix of cautious congratulations and unspoken condolences. I have a vivid memory of mowing the yard a few days later while Carla's parents stayed with her at the hospital. I realized that no matter what happened, the yard would still have to be mowed each week, whether we had two disabled children to care for, or one, or none. Life would go on, but the prospect seemed unbearable. I suddenly saw the world through the eyes of parents whose children died in Iraq, or natural disasters, or childhood diseases. I worried not only about losing Hannah and Steven, but also of losing Carla's beautiful smile to the lifetime of despair that seemed just around the corner.

At one point, the doctors said that Steven was actually doing a bit better than Hannah, but they didn't know how they would feed him if he survived long enough to use up his internal stores. They simply didn't have tubes small enough to fit in his veins. Hannah had a lung leak and her heart had not finished preparing itself for life outside the womb. Where a few weeks before I was obsessing over the tiny fluctuations in Carla's thyroid function that might erode away the children's future IQ scores, I now decided that I only cared that the children be safe and happy, whatever disadvantages life dealt them. I knew these children would be lucky just to survive.

A year later, as you faithful readers well know, we have only one child. But oh, what a child she is. Perfect in every way, including the tiny scars from heart surgery, lung repair, intravenous feed lines, and scores of IVs in hands, feet, and scalp. She somehow dodged all the bullets of prematurity and is now smiling and busy exploring the world, oblivious to the turmoil that surrounded her birth.

I have always respected the sciences and the wonder of life itself, and owe a lifetime of gratitude to the medical professionals who kept Hannah safe and knew just what to do, to allow her tiny body to adapt outside the womb. But I now have equal respect also for the powers of prayer and love, and the people who brought them to bear on our behalf. I may not know how it works, but I see the results every time Hannah smiles and laughs at me from across the room.

As healthy and happy as Hannah is, I never forget how lucky we are. We know several families whose babies are still struggling with health issues, and even though I'm sure they will pull through and overcome the obstacles, it doesn't seem fair that such good people and their innocent ones have to deal with such stress. Please say a prayer or spare a thought for all the parents who, at this moment, are wondering if tomorrow will be a good day or one full of challenges.

There is another anniversary coming up next Tuesday that will be very hard on us, and I don't really know how we'll handle it. I suspect, though, that we'll get a lot of help in the form of innocent impish grins and big gummy smiles, and all will be right with the world.

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We went home to Shreveport/Bossier last weekend, and celebrated Hannah's birthday with many of the people that have been on Team Hannah from day one. They we came back to Plano and did the same with the local chapter of the team. There is no better feeling than being surrounded by good friends and close family, unless it's being able to introduce your child to those people, knowing that each of them is an instant friend and ally if she ever needs more than we can provide.

Hannah has been receiving gifts all year, and of course some of you couldn't resist giving even more on the occasion of her birthday. But I think her best birthday gifts were being able to play on the floor with NICU-mate Ashley, and the continuing progress of her birthday twin Carter, who celebrated his birthday in Boston, where he is recovering well from a multi-visceral transplant. Next year, all three will be on the floor together.

That's Hannah on the left and Ashley on the right. I thought Hannah's eyes were stunning until I saw Ashley's.

Hannah was baptized last weekend at Noel United Methodist in Shreveport, our church-away-from-home where Carla grew up. We're trying not to take it as a bad omen that the sermon that day was about the "Mark of the Beast", and that we sang hymns 666 and 333. Pure coincidence, I'm sure. :-) Actually, if you knew Pastor Dave, you'd know it was a lighthearted jab at all the apocalyptic silliness. One actual coincidence, though, is that Dave lived two doors down from me when I was growing up in Bossier. Small world.