One Day A Year

This morning, I did something I will never do again. Today, I dropped off five 6 year-olds. With Logan’s birthday 22 hours away, all of my children are the same age, for one day. The quads love to tell Logan they are the same age as he is. And of course, to not be out-done, he fires back, “Yeah, but I am still older. You just don’t understand.”

While running the kids over to the school this morning, I turned off the radio (we love jammin’ out in the car. They always arrive with smiles on their faces.) and told them I wanted to talk to the quads for a moment. I shared with them about the first time I laid eyes on them. And how I loved touching their fingers for the first time. And now, they were about to go into school for another day of learning. I called them out, one-by-one, by name, and told them that I loved them. Then, high-fives for all, and they were off, running up the sidewalk, through the doors, and down the hall to the cafeteria.

And there I was, alone, again. Time to think on what just happened. They were just born. As clear as the license plate on the car in front of me, I can see their newborn faces. They weren’t crying. They were unable to open their eyes (their eyelids were still sealed.) They were no longer safe within their mother’s womb. They were no longer next to their one brother or sisters. They too, were alone.

Or that’s how they felt. Within the first few weeks, there were blood transfusions, heart surgeries, breathing treatments, medications, and love. I remember that Samantha was the first one I held. Hudson was the first one I fed a bottle to. Madison was the first one I saw with her eyes open. And Candice……….I watched her fail, time and time again, at breathing on her own. People make fun of me for choosing Candi as a favorite, but what a lot of people don’t know is that I was at her bedside often, breaking. She was the first one to smile up at me. I remember holding her hand one day while she slept. This was about a day or two after we had agreed that she needed to be trached. She had a yellow blanket on her. A small white Velcro band was around her neck, helping to hold the trache in place. As she woke and her eyes began to open, she yawned so big and then turned her head. She couldn’t speak, nor could she cry out loud, but eyes could love like no other. Dad was hooked.

Usually the wimpy white boys fare the worse when they are that tiny, but Hud was the first one home. And Sam came home the next day.

Family and friends were with us that day. I remember being in the delivery room. It was crowded. I believe there were four people per baby, plus 4 to 5 for Liz. I was there for everybody. As they came out, I ran from bed to bed. I was…in love.

Today, they are all four living. And living to the Heaventh-degree.

But, we’re not here alone. LITERALLY, thousands of people have played a role in getting them to this day. In my thank you, know that I know, it’s not enough. Money can’t repay you and words can’t explain to you what YOU have meant to me and my family. Prayers, time, money, gifts, cards, clothes, food, toys, books, groceries, pillows, movies, games, beds, car seats, diapers (OH MY GOSH, how many diapers), but folks…love. Love tops the list. Hugs and kisses. High-fives and fist bumps. So many of you have  stepped up. So many of you helped in so many ways! House cleaning, yard work, housework, babysitting, grocery shopping, oil changes, brake repair, hospital runs, ears to hear, meal-fixing, haircuts, LAUNDRY!!!!, and overnight stays.

But in the end, when this day ends, it isn’t about Liz or myself or even about the kids themselves. It is about a God that has proven Himself, time and time again, in my life and in your’s, that He truly deserves the title of “God.” The smell of sunshine is like no other. The love of a child is unmatched. And a life lived together is a life worth living.

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One Response to “One Day A Year”

  1. Liz Dixon Says:

    Everytime I read another post you’ve written you top yourself. I know the story, I’m not a stranger, I’ve lived this all beside you. However, you have a unique and special gift of being able to write your story/our story/ your deepest heartfelt thoughts in a way that is unbelievably magical. This is by far my favorite post you have written to date. I’m sure you will once again top yourself and I will inevitable be sucked into the greatness that you write about..the joy you find in the struggle. Wow babe, you sure do inspire me and help me to look at lifes struggles in a way I never could have imagined possible. I love living this life with you!

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