Here Goes!

For YEARS, people have been saying, "Kim, you should write a book." I'm not really much of a writer, as much as a storyteller...but be that as it may, my little family has had quite the journey. Here is some of our story. 

John and I were married in 1992. I was 19. A week after my 21st birthday, I found out I was expecting our first child. See, there was this Vikings game, and they played the Chiefs...when Joe Montana was playing for them...and well, I really thought Joe Montana was...well...a massive hottie. John was busy watching the Vikings cheerleaders...and well, nine months later we were blessed with a lovely 9lb 3 oz baby boy! TMI? You may wanna stop reading now. It's not going to get better. :)

JT was beautiful. Even though I pretty much freaked out about becoming a mother the entire time I was pregnant, once he came along, everything just felt right. He was healthy, he was 'totes adorbs' (hehe) and he was ours. 

20 months later, we were blessed again with another son...tipping the scales at 9lbs 13oz, a fiery little red-headed Ben came into this world...beautiful, perfect, and pissed. In fact, the hospital nursery wouldn't take Ben. They made him sleep in my bed with me. All the little twerp wanted to do was eat. 18 years later, and nothing has changed. Not the temper, not the appetite. He'll be the first to admit it.

So, there we were. This little family of four. A few years passed, and it was time to send JT to PRESCHOOL!! Kris Boyd, JT's preschool teacher, was concerned JT needed his eyes checked. You will notice, all throughout this story, how I was oblivious to so much. Yes, I had always noticed JT liked to have things right in front of his face, but it never really occurred to me that he couldn't see. Can you say, "DUH, KIM???" (if you can, you'll be saying it a lot.) 

We took JT to the eye doctor. Come to find out not only did he need glasses, but he was borderline legally blind. WHAATT??? Yep. Poor little guy!! I felt like a complete idiot. But, in my defense, he was born like that, and he adapted. Funny, how he just made do with what he had. I will never forget when he got his glasses, and he was sitting at the kitchen table, and he looked up at the wall, and there was this huge doorbell thing hanging there and he said, 'when did we get that?' Yeah, it had been there his whole life. 

So, we thought we better get Ben checked out. The first eye doctor we went to said, "He's ok. If anything maybe one step far sighted." We breathed a huge sigh of relief! However, after watching him more and more, we decided to take Ben to JT's eye doctor, Dr. Suh at the Wolfe Clinic in Ames. Come to find out Ben's eyes were WORSE than JT's. Eventually it was discussed with us that chances are, neither boy would probably ever drive. The boys were seen every six months for quite awhile...always needing different prescriptions, different glasses, different bifocals, you name it, we did it. Ben even had to wear a patch over his right eye for six months (a few hours a day) to strengthen his left eye. He hated the patch, so finally they gave us drops, that made his right eye blurry.,,making his left eye work harder. (One time, John accidentally put those drops in both of his eyes before he went to work...and he had to drive all over the place...HAHAHAHA....big whoopsie there!!!) Also, after more appointments, Dr. Suh told us that the boys would never be candidates for corrective eye surgery...and that neither boy should ever be in contact sports due to a high risk of retinal detachment. More crappy news!!

When JT was almost seven and Ben was five, I found out I was expecting again. I'm just gonna tell you, this one came outta left field! I was completely shocked, especially since I had always made it well known that I was DONE having kids...I wish I could lie and say I was really excited, but I wasn't. I was so afraid about going through this eye stuff again,..and I didn't want to! Everyone was full of 'congratulations' except one. When we told Lom Cavan, he looked at me, and just said, "No f**king way!" Finally, someone shared my reaction! However, about nine weeks in, I had accepted it, and was starting to warm up to the idea of having three kids. One morning, I woke up gushing blood. I was fourteen weeks along. I didn't really understand what was happening, and by the time I got to the hospital they told me I was within a half hour of dying. I lost the baby. I blamed myself big time...because of my initial reaction. I actually still do blame myself...I know it doesn't make sense, but I guess we all have our ways of dealing with grief. 

When JT was eight, and Ben was six, we were blessed with one Mr. Levi Greenfield. Born three weeks early, he weighed exactly 7lbs. I had no idea what to do with a baby that small. I was used to my kids coming out half grown!!! He was so cute! When he was eight weeks old, he spiked a fever. Dr. Nau put him in the hospital, for fear of meningitis...talk about freaking out. I was a mess...this was a very new experience...and I thought eyes were bad! After three days of a lot of monitoring, we were able to go home. They never really figured out the cause of that illness, but it never repeated itself and I count my blessings for that. 

Levi was a bit of a mystery. He was so hard to get to sleep at night. It got to the point where the only place he would sleep was in his car seat on the living room couch, and it had to be dead quiet except for his "special puppy" that played music for 15 minutes at a time. I remember having to tiptoe to bed at like, 8:30 when he fell asleep...just to try to keep him sleeping, and for a night owl like myself, that was a special kind of suck. I experienced some postpartum depression...I just felt like my entire life had just came to some crazy screeching halt. I would find out a little later how accurate that was. 

So, the next two years we muddled along. By nine months, Levi slept in his crib. He actually became a pretty good sleeper, but would not nap during the day, which made daycare naptime a little hairy! He was also very...as I always said, quirky. The way he played, the things he did...he was so meticulous...he fascinated me. Then, something happened....

One day, Staci Thompson, Ben's first grade teacher, called me to ask if I had noticed Ben's knee was swollen. When he got home I looked at it, and it was HUGE. He did not remember falling on it at any point, and it wasn't bruised. So, off we went to Dr. Greenwold (sp?? I can't remember) in Ames. He wanted to do an MRI. He called me personally when he got the results. He said, "Kim, I don't THINK it's cancer, but it does have tumor like tendencies. We need to get him in to Iowa City." So, we got the appointment set up, but the soonest they could see us was four weeks away. Let me tell you something. When a doctor uses the word 'tumor' about your eight year old son, and you have to wait four weeks to know for sure, your mind goes...well...bat shit crazy. 

One Sunday, at church...they had the 'annointing of the sick'. I took Ben up to have him blessed.  When we returned to our seats...I closed my eyes and tears just poured out. I remembered how people would say, "give it to God". I prayed while the tears fell down my cheeks..."God. I have no control over what is going to happen to my sweet boy. Please take this worry from me, and give me the strength to do what he needs me to do, no matter what the outcome." And...no kidding, people...the weight literally lifted from my heart. I felt it. Believe it, don't believe it, it happened. That was a very powerful and eye opening moment in my life that will forever be just between God and me. I don't talk about my faith much. I have always considered it to be a very personal thing. But that moment I will share with you. It got me through what came next.

(End of Part 1)