A few short days... A whole new life

The events of just a few days can completely can your life. On October 7th, Christy gave birth to little Calvin Henry, our fourth boy, at home. Yes, by choice but not without the assistance of a certified nurse midwife.

When Christy went into labor at 3:30 in the morning, it was close to the pattern of our previous three boys, all of whom were born around mid-morning after eight or nine hours of labor. So when our midwife arrived, just after 5:15 a.m., I was just beginning to settle in for a solid four or five hours of labor. And then Calvin was born. At 5:35 a.m.

His birth, of course, changed our lives as all births do. The usual routine changed, but the change was by now itself routine, since we'd gone through this three times previously. Naming him took a little longer than last time (he was "Gus Gus" to his brothers for the first two days before we settled on Calvin.

Not long before Calvin was born, we began to notice that Riley was exhibiting some unusual behavior. His mood swings were noticeable to Christy, who has to deal with the boys all day long, but even I took notice of how frequently he had the urge to pee, and how he had suddenly reverting to night-time bed-wetting, which had been a very rare occurrence for him before.

On Monday night, Oct. 18th, I took the three oldest boys to Chuck E' Cheese for Sammy's soccer team party. And of course, all three boys ate pizza and drank a lot of punch and soda. By the time I got them home and in bed, it was 9:30pm. An hour later, I went to get Riley up to use the bathroom (which I'd been doing for several nights in a row, to prevent him from wetting the bed). But it was already too late -- his sheets, pajamas and even bedspread were thoroughly soaked. I got him up anyway, led him to the toilet, and was shocked to see how much he still peed. Something was definitely wrong. Christy and I agreed we'd try to get him into the doctor the next day, but the night didn't pass without Riley getting up at least twice more (that we know of) to use the bathroom.

It was four o' clock on Oct. 19th, the first available appointment, that Christy got Riley in to see Dr. Cook, our family practitioner. I was home with Sammy and Zeke, when Christy finally called. Riley was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes, with a blood sugar level so high their meter (which tops out at 600) couldn't read it. We were told we had to take him immediately to Primary Children's Medical Center for admission.

My heart broke. Our little Riley. Diabetes... an incurable, lifelong disease. It wasn't fair. He didn't deserve this. But it was happening, and there was nothing I could do to prevent it.

Riley's endocrinologist, Dr. Rob Lindsay, was waiting the moment we stepped off the elevator on the third floor of Primary Children's Medical Center. At first he seemed a bit gruff, but that impression soon changed. His manner with Riley, and with us, was simply perfect, as he calmly explained the facts of the disease, answered questions, and talked us through our agenda for the next two days at the hospital. With his longish white hair and beard, glasses and eyes, I couldn't help thinking that with a red suit and hat, he could pass as Santa Claus -- not a jolly Santa -- but a wise and compassionate one with a twinkle of humor behind those narrow spectacles.

I stayed with Riley that night, but couldn't get to sleep, and so I began an email to my co-workers and some key campaign people to explain why I wouldn't be in for the next two days. As I wrote, I began to see more clearly the blessings of God in our experience, and my pain and fear slowly evaporated as rays of gratitude began to shine through the dark clouds. Here is an excerpt:


"Today our 5-year-old son Riley was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes. I am writing this from Primary Children's Medical Center, where he admitted this evening. The good news is that we caught fairly and he's doing well, although discouraged that he faces lifetime of daily insulin shots and an abrupt curtailing of sugar. (And Halloween just around the corner, poor guy!)

They're going to keep him here for a couple of days but anticipate releasing him Thursday morning. Christy and I will need to be here because there is a thorough education process they need to take us through, and of course we both want to be here with him as we start this journey together.

I hope this doesn't sound perverse, but amid all my sadness and trepidation for Riley, I also feel a strong sense of gratitude--not that he has to suffer through this difficult disease, of course, but that the medical care and treatment for diabetes has come such a long, long way.

I'm grateful for a world-class facility and practitioners who treat children with life-threatening conditions and help them to overcome, in most cases... and it's right here in our backyard! (Little did I know when I posted the Facebook submission for Primary Children's Medical Center on the Intermountain CFC page this morning that our own family would be relying on PCMC the very same night!) Most of all, I'm grateful that I have the opportunity to work for a cause that provides services like this to the community, because you never know--I certainly didn't-- when you may need them yourself.

True, I have medical insurance and a job, but to me that's hardly the point. The point is these services only exist in the first place because of caring people who give, and give generously, and repeatedly, from the heart. Even if we couldn't pay, we'd still be cared for. If people hadn't given over the years, if they had all stopped believing in good causes, if they had allowed skepticism and cynicism to override the "better angels of their nature" as Lincoln put it, I have to wonder,
would we be saying farewell to Riley tonight instead of planning a future where he has every prospect of leading a very normal and active life?

Okay, it's late and maybe I'm a little sentimental, but I can't help but believe that untold thousands, millions of people have incrementally made our son's future possible. I wish I could thank every one of them tonight. Thank YOU for believing."


Riley's home now. He still hates his shots and finger pokes, and will for quite some time to come. Christy and I are slowly adjusting to life as parents of a diabetic little boy (our first night included three trips to Walgreens and frantic calls to the on-call diabetic nurse when Riley's blood sugar dropped dangerously low) but the blessings haven't stopped, and we take joy in counting them.

Here are just a few:

--We have four fabulous boys who are helpful, kind, polite, and cheerful. They are even responsible when they know they need to be.
--My parents came home from a trip to Washington state hours before we needed them to watch our other boys so we could take Riley to the hospital.
--We have each other.
--Calvin was born and I was mostly recovered by the time we found out about Riley.
--We have a wonderful, comfortable home whee we can relax and feel the Spirit
--God listens to our prayers.
--We have testimonies of God's love for us.
--We have the best doctors, nurses, and kid-friendly hospital in the state. And we don't live all that far away from it.
--We have a strong extended family support system
--Neighbors and church friends who will drop everything for the chance to serve
--We are already benefiting from the countless hours/years of research and hard work to provide treatment and help for diabetes

I know in the long run this experience will be a big blessing to me and my family. It won't be easy, but it's going to do us a world of good.