“Try Again”
The family trekked back home to Chicago from 7 different states to celebrate my grandson on the starting line, and my dad on the finishing line, of the spectrum of life. My dad turned 90, July 17, 2021 and my oldest grandson and the first great grandchild turned 5, July 19, 2021. Both parties were superhero themed. One hero arrived with a walker, the other with a cape. One filled with well-spent life. One filled with wonder for life. Both loving their first set of wheels too!
And, while Hudson’s birthday party was all about fun and games, as appropriate for him and his 5-year-old party pals, my dad entertained 4 generations of us with his answers when prompted by questions about his life experiences.
His story is our history. We learned that Dad taught himself to drive at the age of 17 after he saved enough money to buy himself a car. My son and nephews – all in their 20’s, loved learning this! Dad was the first in his family of 10 – born the sixth child of eight, to accomplish this life skill let alone, as the sixth child, the first to purchase a car in the family - a 1936 Dodge. He was so proud.
My dad’s hourly wage at his first job was under $1, and when his pay reached $1 per hour, he was so happy to finally earn some “real money” for his hard work - shocking his grandchildren with this fact.
We learned Dad took cover under a military truck during an air raid while serving in the Korean War and had the presence of mind to determine there was enough space for him to remain alive and wedge himself free even if the tires were blown out. A true act of superheroism!
His paper-cutting/print press occupation that spanned over 40 years, earned him the title of “Playboy Center Folder.” Everyone laughed at this! The magazine was headquartered and published in Chicago at the time, and Dad was awarded the prestigious job of operating the machine responsible for folding the most important page of this publication. He said, “I never looked! I just got the job done!”
He also shared advice and memories from his marriage to my mom, and family life.
My dad is renowned throughout my large extended family for his burping. Okay, while this isn’t one of his proud strong points, it is the way he made strong points! He could belch the alphabet, a song lyric, a reprimand, a greeting, and was regionally famous for his digestive declarations of goofy phrases like “bow-WOW” and “wayga-BOOM.” The great-grandchildren are just old enough to be fascinated by this skill. Hudson asked, “How did you learn to burp Great-Gramps?” My dad said he liked getting laughs from his forceful exaggerated burps. He said he did it for fun but unfortunately learned “the technique becomes your norm.” He warned his youngest family members, “Burping is natural. Never force what’s natural because you’ll keep doing that long after it’s funny! You can’t help it!”
Unnatural… Yep, that’s my dad. His extraordinary qualities continue to amaze and surprise us, as well as drive us all crazy - literally! He still gets behind the wheel and talks about every feature in his car while driving!
My mom is a saint.
When asked how Dad knew my mom was “the one,” he responded, “I was in church and felt the Spirit move me to pursue the one with the beautiful black hair in the choir. I told God, I already tried and she wasn’t interested! But, God said to me in my spirit, ‘Try again.’” As only an old-world Italian can, Dad went on to relay this experience as earnestly through his hands, as he did with his words.
On August 9, my mom and dad will celebrate 63 years of marriage. Did I mention my mom is a saint? She sure is! I was deeply affected and reminded by my dad’s “try again” recollection, that decisions, and especially those that give us the courage to try again, not only change lives, but can also determine whether yours even exists! All 4 generations of us present on Dad’s birthday wouldn’t be here had my dad not taken that second chance to pursue the beautiful black-haired choir girl. Thank you God for the prompting, Dad for listening, and Mom for agreeing!
“Try again” has notable history within my family and inspires a part of our “her story” too. Had my mom’s older brother - the youngest of her three siblings at the time, not tragically passed away at the age of 7 from a strep infection, my mom’s life would not have existed.
Born after her brother Arthur’s passing, the joy of my mom’s birth helped heal her parents’ and sisters’ broken hearts who were then 13 and 11 year old. Mom’s arrival became the family’s gift from grief. Her sisters, my aunts Virginia and Lorraine, would happily tell us, “Everyone adored and fussed over your mom. She brought joy to our lives again.”
My brother, James Arthur, is named in memory of our uncle Art. My brother’s birth in turn, became for our family, an even more blessed and joyous addition for my grandparents, Rose and Arthur before they passed.
“Try again…” These two words are life force to me. They inspired my parent’s marriage despite Dad’s initial rejection. They inspired my grandparents through their grief and despair, and new life filled their souls with my mom’s birth. “Try again” is part of my story too that connects me to the many hardships and rewards of my people - my own heartbreak at the sudden passing of my third child and first son, Chad in 1991.
My story:
After feeling “complete” with my two daughters and family of four, a very strong prompting in my spirit led me to be open to an additional child… It seemed just the shift in my willingness to consider, “another baby?” and, before I could rethink this, I became pregnant with our third. An ultrasound indicated early on that we were expecting a boy. Thrilled by this news, the weeks counted down to our son’s arrival. Six year old Lauren and 4 year old Katelyn were so excited to meet their baby brother.
I delivered my daughters a week early. Our third son was still in tow on his due date - the day my older daughter Lauren broke out in chicken pox. Within a short period, Katelyn caught the virus too. Both girls had full-blown active chicken pox! Not the great expectation I was anticipating! My parents arrived in town within 48 hours to stay with my daughters so that their care was covered for my any-moment-now delivery.
By 10 days overdue, my doctors had me come in for a stress test. All was well with my baby’s heart rate and mine too. They saw no need to intervene. “Everything we’re seeing is good. Let’s give nature a little more time. You’re doing great!” I returned home a bit disheartened, feeling the fullness of life within, yet intuitively sensing something wasn’t right.
I struggled to sleep that night. I had been doing all I could to prompt my son’s arrival, especially now that my daughters were past their active stage with chicken pox. I climbed out of bed and got down on my knees - to pray, to plead with God. I really don’t remember ever getting down on my knees like that before. I felt anxious and worried. I felt the need to tell God my fears. I told Him in tears. I just cried… Then a calming came over me as a language from my heart just flowed. A sort of surrendering of my overdue-ness and my son to His will, while telling God I needed to know him - to feel my baby boy in my arms.
Within the hour, I was rushed to my very quick and easy delivery! My nearly 9 pound baby boy, Chad Evan, had finally arrived! He received a 10 on the apgar scale with his hearty cry and pink healthy color. My fears transformed to overwhelming joys. A sighing “Thank you” to God resounded within me as I held my baby boy close. A feeling of “it is well with my soul” flooded over me.
Twenty-four hours after Chad’s “healthy” more than full-term birth, he was given a routine Vitamin K shot to the ankle, prior to our hospital release. His cry caused a slight discoloring of his skin. This led to following the ambulance transporting my newborn son to specialists at UNC Hospitals, that led me to that dreaded room where a dozen doctors were seated around a table with a box of Kleenex in the center, that led to the heart wrenching discovery of Chad’s imminently fatal congenital heart condition.
I recall asking questions… I recall receiving answers… I recall staring at the Kleenex box and internally talking to God, “I got down on my knees… I surrendered… I’m supposed to thank you… My heart is exploding right now…”
The doctors were giving compassionate advice as I was only hearing my internal voice, “When can I hold my son and take him home?”
The entire left chamber of Chad’s heart - the chamber needed to oxygenate his blood, never developed beyond a tiny stub. The neonatal heart specialists were astounded that Chad endured full-term pregnancy, natural delivery, and a full day of life with his extraordinary heart condition, before distress signs were even indicated.
Up until that time, UNC Hospitals Neonatal ICU team had never seen a living-outside-the-womb, beating heart, quite like Chad’s severe hypo-plastic left heart syndrome. As limited options for intervention were grim - atrophy to all working parts had already set in, I chose, with full support of the team of specialists to bring my son home.
“My son will die with me. I want to love him to death. I’m taking my baby. How soon can we leave?”
I can still conjure up that eerie out-of-body feeling of hearing my voice say those words. I saw a doctor’s tears roll down his cheeks. I wondered why I’m not in a puddle on the floor sobbing like Chad’s dad? I recall, I never wavered with my intention in that awful moment of declaration.
(Sobbing and leaving puddles on the floor… I’ve become a pro at this, and lots of time spent on my knees has become my new life’s foundation as everything I knew about me, believed about love, life, God, the world crumbled from this point forward.)
We experienced 5 miraculous days with our sweet angel boy and made the most of every heartbeat together. Every minute, hour, and day was a celebration of our son and brother’s life. I thanked Chad for his will to live, for his courageous effort to meet us, to want to know our love, to be a very vital part of our family…
We had birthday cake every day. Shiny helium balloons filled our home. We sang “Jesus Love Me,” a lot. We all hugged and held our son and brother non-stop.
Then, on that Sunday, I just knew… Despite every fiber of my being waging war against my spirit’s “knowing;” all of me was screaming within to love and nurture the life it co-created and sustained within. The primal robbery a mother feels when her child is dying in her arms is incomprehensible. My body, days prior, full with life was hollow, uselessly leaking life force, already grieving, wailing, bleeding, contracting and raging against being denied what it was instinctively made to do for the life it delivered.
But, this side of love is an exceptionality. Love is fiercely felt and expressed in these delicate moments.
I know God’s divine love, peace and grace embraced me in my moment of deepest sorrow as my tears baptized my infant son: “mommy will take your broken heart now… so that yours can be healed…. I love you now and forever my son, my sweet baby boy Chad Evan… and mommy will see you and hold you again very soon.” Chad then raised his weak little arm and pointed up with his tiny finger as he breathed his last breath. Chad’s time with us was complete. My little warrior surrendered his life on earth cradled in my arms.
When you love someone to death, it’s crushingly enrapturing. It’s the most beautiful, extraordinarily spiritual, and transformative moment I’ve ever known. The heavenly realm surrounded me and my son with divine comfort - a tangible sense of compassion flooded my soul affirming me that all will be well as Chad’s life transitioned from my earthly arms to his Heavenly Father’s.
Because of Chad, I know otherworldly blessed assurance, and an achingly deep love that’s devastatingly precious to me beyond words.
The gates of heaven open on two occasions - to give and receive life. For Chad, they remained open for the extraordinary time we got to have him with us. The seconds, hours and days we spent with Chad were miraculous - dare I say, blessed; and exceeded all medical explanation.
Chad’s beating heart films have been studied and used for research, and for about a decade after Chad’s passing, the lead cardiologist from that neonatal ICU team would call me on Chad’s birthday to let me know his heart continues to add valuable information to their research.
“Try again…” I had great expectations that Chad would complete my family in a very different way than he actually has. It’s taken a lot of tears, time and hard work to say that I’m grateful. While I felt robbed of my natural maternal expectations for all of the things my lifetime together as Chad’s mom should have experienced, I’ve come to embrace the vastness Chad’s short life has intended for me. Being Chad’s mom, I am expanded and affirmed in ways I could have never imagined. A big part of me is vitally alive in the Great Beyond. My heart and soul have a huge investment and unwavering belief in heaven now despite my mind’s uncertainties of what exactly that is.
As Chad’s mom, I know the intensely agonizing and overwhelming reconstitution process of grief. For a time the feeling of a very jagged, much bigger, broken heart has to get retro-fitted and forced into your chest cavity without pain relief. Once that heart transplant is complete, a lifetime of healing ensues. It’s a slow, dark and heavy journey. You have to learn to live with your new jagged, bigger, broken heart.
Then, suddenly, you realize you can love and embrace your new heart for all of the new sensitivities it feels and all of the vital messages it now reveals.
As Chad’s mom, I know the omnipotence of love, what’s amazing about grace, and truly uplifting about joy. As Chad’s mom, I know faith works as a gateway to courage, and courage is any action driven by the fortitude of your heart to face a disappointment, failure or fear and “try again…”
Like the stories of my parents, my grandparents, and those of so many who know rejection, grief and heartbreak; risking every fiber of your broken being to open your shattered heart to new experiences requires a courageous faith effort because you’re now, keenly aware, that inherent in any potential pursuit of happiness, is the very real potential for something devastating to occur - again. Faith and fear cannot coexist.
Choosing faith, in the spirit of “try again,” Jonathan Chad, my second son, was born in 1993. His birth completed our family by Divine design. While it’s important to make a plan, it took many years for me to trust God’s plans still rule over mine.
Jonathan is the bonus joy in my life, his dad’s life, and in the lives of his sisters who grieved over losing their baby brother Chad too. With Chad in our hearts, we all double-dosed Jonny with love and attention. I smile at the recollection of the many 2AM feedings that brought us all together - to just be together with our infant son and brother, to meet OUR basic needs along with his!
Jonathan knows he’s a reward from hardship. He knows instinctively that his life has a purpose and a plan. He knows his story. Our circle of life, created by these stories and more, that encapsulate several generations of my family, is tragically beautiful.
Every family has a “his story” and “her story” that made you possible. I think we should all understand the unique and special circumstances that brought our lives into existence because every life is created to fulfill unique and special purposes.
Knowing the hardships and rewards of your people - the risks, the chances, the courage to overcome grief and adversity adds context and meaning to your life. Hear their stories. Learn from your elders while you can. Their drive and wherewithal is in your DNA. Their hopes and aspirations live on as a powerful life force within you.
We gathered to celebrate life - all of us adding living color to our patriarch’s legacy. For me, this life celebration was about embracing our family history and connecting our stories - adding depth to my purpose for being. I will always remember Hudson’s superhero 5-year-old party with his friends, and Dad’s engaging and animated stories from his life experiences on his 90th birthday with our extended family.
Dad’s words will resonate with me always: “Never force what’s natural…” “I never looked! I just got the job done,” and especially the heartfelt and courageous message to “Try again…”
“I’ll show up and take care of you as I promised and bring you back home. I know what I’m doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for.”
P.S. - Hudson’s middle name is Chad.
