"I'll teach you how to jump on the wind's back!"

"If riding in an airplane is flying, then riding in a boat is swimming. If you want to experience the element, then get out of the vehicle."

Yesterday, for about 10 minutes, I felt the ultimate freedom.  I can honestly say jumping out of a plane at 9,500 feet, falling at a speed of 124 mph, toward the beautiful world, was the best feeling ever.  The build-up, the excitement, the fear, the panic - up until the moment we flung our bodies out of the “perfectly good plane” was worth every second.  I will freely admit that I had 2^nd thoughts. After waiting around a hangar full of half-crazy men for two hours, I doubted myself.  I was blank. I was in shock.  The skydivers have a different perspective on life – they live it to the fullest.  I thought mine might be ending this day.  I hadn’t eaten in over 9 hours. My stomach was empty, on purpose.  I wasn’t sure what was going to happen up there. I was completely in the dark.  As they prepared me for every step, including getting in the plane, how my exit was going to go, how to arch my body, what to do with my arms, to throw up down my shirt if I felt the need, I was wishing I had taken notes.   As I entered the plane with Hoyt, I forgot it all. It was gone, completely.  What if I screwed this up? The one piece of advice I remember, “Whatever happens to you, happens to me. Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

  The plane ride took forever. I talked a little as Hoyt wanted to have a screaming contest.  Our cameraman, Dan, won. I couldn’t conjure up a squeak, hardly. I told Hoyt that I couldn’t remember how to get out of the plane, he laughed. “We fall out.”  I don’t remember what to do with my body, again, he laughed, “You do what mine does.” I can’t remember what he told me about my nose, teeth, etc. There was something about that. “It’s called breathing, Wendy. You do it all the time.” He patted my leg in reassurance, adjusted my harness and had me prepare myself by the door.   As I stood there in front of Dan, face to face with him, while Hoyt strapped my body tightly to his, a hard realization came to me. “I have to pee.” I yelled to Dan. He laughed. “Me, too.”  And the door was open, we stood on a small platform about the size of a foot, all three of us.  I looked at Dan, “I can’t remember anything.” I shook my head. I started spurting out a thousand questions, which I don’t remember.  I remember Hoyt, whispering in my ear, "We're going to jump on the wind's back!"

The next minute, I was face down, feet above my head, barreling down at the world.  I do remember my first thought, “I can’t believe this!” And then my mind went blank.  They told me this would happen, so I had to focus.  They explain that your mind goes on mental block – it’s a defense mechanism.  “You’ll only remember snapshots.” I focused hard as I arched my body perfectly; I took deep breaths through my mouth and stared directly at Dan as he came close to me with a wild smile on his face. I was skydiving!  Then we were gently, pulled up into the sky by the parachute. It was gentle, wild and crazy – all at once.  “You didn’t even scream!” were the first words out of Hoyt’s mouth.  I laughed, kicked my feet and took it all in. It was peaceful, serene and exhilarating.  Hoyt laughed, “Do you remember all those questions you were asking when we dove off the platform?” I didn’t. I laughed. “You did great!” 

                As we gently floated back to Earth, I already wanted to go again.  I lifted up my feet as Hoyt told me to do for the landing.  Once we were back on solid ground, every muscle in my body went limp.  I laid back on Hoyt and stared up at the sky.  I now know why the birds sing.

No Escape from the Chaos

It's been forever.

Forever. And. A. Day.

Too long since I've been here.  Maybe that's a good thing or a really, really bad thing. One can't be too quick to judge. The truth of the matter is the Cox family has been tremendously busy.  Almost too busy. I took up running as a means to escape the chaos.  Slowly, I started.  No sooner than I started did life catch up with me and I found myself with no time to escape the chaos.  There's a long list of things continuing in our lives. Amongst the wildfires and raging heat, our life has been coasting along in a sea of utter ~sometimes painful~ tranquility.  As a family of three, working full time seems to be enough. But is it ever really? Not here, obviously.

1)   I enrolled myself into college. Long overdue so I plunged in full time. What was I thinking? More money, less work, the American dream? It's too early to answer that question.  I do know that it's been 16 years since I've had homework of any sort and it's still no fun. It's not as bad as it seems. One physical class, three online classes. However, my three online classes all want the work due by Sunday at midnight, which means weekend homework. Fortunately, I work for an awesome company that works around me going to school 2 days a week.

2)   Elijah is playing football.  Evidently, 3rd grade football equates to 3 practices a week from 6-8 PM and games on Saturday evenings.  If he didn't love it so much, we wouldn't be there at all.  He plays center. And he's happy to have a permanent position and to be useful to the team. He loves his coaches and he's growing a lot as an athlete.  It would almost seem to me that the "coach" makes the the "athlete." Or maybe they can just hinder the athlete.  Regardless, Elijah is doing awesome at football this go around.

3)   We're just about to start our classes to be foster parents.  Yikes!  We're happy about this but scared.  Our goal is to adopt, not just foster. It's been a long thought out process of over 2 years for us.  Jason was inspired by seeing all the "state" kids in the NICU at Arkansas Children's Hospital.  Babies lying there with no parents to console them, to cry over them, to pray for them.  God placed this on his heart back then but only now have we acted on it.  We've been slow - making sure we were doing it for all the right reasons and not because we were empty after Jonah.  We have a lot of love to give and what I consider a good home.  We hope and pray the state sees it that way, too.

4)   I'm skydiving September 10th.  Another Yikes!  Grabbing life by the reins and holding on.  Again, I blame Elijah for this. He planted this in my mind and things don't always go well planted in my mind.  I want to touch the sky and see the world from a different perspective. 

5)   Jason's having surgery September 16th. Minor. Nothing serious and nothing to be talked about here. I'm just using it as an example of our busy life. Plain and simple.

Let's do the math: I work 5 days a week (I can't even explain Jason's schedule.)  Elijah has football 4 days a week. I'm in school 2 days a week and weekend homework.  We're jumping out of airplanes and going under the knife. It's a crazy world.  On a positive note, we haven't had a moment to gripe about gas prices, the economy, Obama or the weather.

Tonight, I made fresh donuts from scratch. Not the cut-a-hole-in-a-biscuit type. I mean, real donuts. Yeast, flour, sugar and shortening was involved.  Elijah sat on the counter top, playing my iPhone, as I dipped the last of the donuts in the glaze. 

Tonight, I am super-mom.

Mud Dogs

Last night, one part of our chaos came to an end. Something happened - something spectacular. Something a small group of boys had been waiting four long years to happen. These boys had it in them all along but somehow it always slipped away from them.

THE MUD DOGS ARE #1.

Yes, the Mud Dogs are undefeated. Yes, their trophies now say something besides “3^rd place.” I can’t say enough good things about this group of kids. They are each other’s cheerleaders. They are a group of excellent kids that actually know what the meaning of the word “team” is. They are not individuals. They are Mud Dogs.

Way to go, Mud Dogs!!!

The Ocean Beneath My Feet

I have always wanted Elijah to have a healthy sense of adventure. And for the most part, he does. I never want him to be afraid of common things - walks in the woods, darkness, bugs, swimming in the creek, etc. I want him to know that I would never put him in harm’s way. However, this often times has me putting myself out there in circumstances that I wouldn’t otherwise have found.

Perfect example: parasailing.

I wouldn’t say I am fearful but I do second guess myself in situations when I might have to ask, “How many people have died doing this?”

Parasailing was always Elijah’s idea. He asked about it last year when we vacationed in South Padre. I was able to change the subject, avoid it altogether and we never saw one parasailor in the sky. Florida was going to be different. He talked about it for weeks leading up to the vacation. Flying in a plane, first. He was excited beyond words. When he dreamed of flying, his mind wandered to that one joy he wanted last summer - to parasail. He looked up a video on You Tube, googled it for pictures, and begged me to find out more information. And one last thing: promise that he would get to do it this year.

I finally agreed. However, as a mother, you would never let your child do something like this without being there, too. We think we are super-moms. That if by chance, we were in a life-threatening situation, we would save our child. As the line would break, and we be whisked away into the sky by our bright yellow, smiley-face parachute, I would be there to comfort Elijah and tell him everything was go to be okay as we eventually spiraled to certain…. you get the picture, right?

We parasailed. Not only did we parasail, we found the one company that used 1200 feet of line instead of 800 feet. We loved it. I can’t describe how peaceful it was to be slowly cascading over the ocean with the most perfect view. Knowing all was perfect in Elijah’s world, he had done the one thing he had been wanting to do for a year. It was his paradise. It was surreal for him, magical.

Once we returned home, all he could talk about was parasailing. He was ecstatic. He then figured out parasailing wasn’t enough. He now wants to skydive. Fortunately, after a certain amount of research, I have discovered you have to be 18 in Arkansas to skydive. Yes! While I wanted to explain to Elijah with no hesitation, I do not do anything where I have to look for a landing. Nothing. I had to explain to him that it just would not happen for him…for 10 years.

Thank you, Elijah, for always being an adventure for me.

21 months later....

Today, Jonah would be 21 months old. No one remembers the dates as much as Jason and I. As much as the two people that would give their own life to have Jonah here.

Do I wonder what he’d be doing? No.

Several months ago, maybe almost a year ago, he came to me in a dream. He was grown. A man. He only smiled and came close to me. He whispered, “I am the man I was always meant to be.” I saw Jonah’s smile. I saw his deep brown eyes. I felt a glow around him. A warmth, as if he was hugging me without even touching me. He was happy. He was beautiful. He was whole and pain-free.

I don’t know what it meant. I’m not going to try a decipher it. A long time ago, I quit trying to figure out why Jonah passed so early in his life. I can’t explain why I did that but I did. I know I will see Jonah again someday. I may or may not get the answers. It won’t matter at that point.

Right after Jonah passed, he came to me in a dream but he was Elijah’s age. He came bouncing into my bedroom, just as his brother would. He was laughing and he opened his shirt and said, “look, mom, my heart is whole.” Pointing to a smooth chest with no scar. He bounced out of the room and he was gone.

These are the only two dreams in which Jonah has been significantly present. Where he has words to say to me. Where he is the only person in my dream. He is in many dreams but just in passing or a figure in a room. No words are said, just letting me know he’s there. In only 2 dreams, he has said words. Defined words. Words that mattered to me.

I’ve said it before - grieving for a child is awkward. 21 months later, it still remains tearfully awkward. 21 months later, Jason and I still shed a few tears each day for our son.

For Your Entertainment Only

A week ago, I thought of something to myself. I’ve never fallen on a treadmill. I’ve been on one hundreds of times. I’m not very graceful. But I’ve never fallen on one.

This week, I can say I have as I hang my head in shame.

I stepped onto my treadmill, last night, routinely as I do every night for my 30 minute walk. Water bottles in holders. Remote control. Safety switch casually hanging. Speed set at 3.7. Take off. My first step was a sign of danger. I stepped too far forward and smacked the actual treadmill. It caused my knee to give way. From there, things went in slow motion. I remember landing on both knees and thinking, “I’m falling. I’m falling. I’m really falling.” My knees skidded across the belt while I clung to my bar, hoping for a miracle at this point instead of just turning the machine off. After all, that would be too simple and too practical. I released my grip on the bar and fell to my side on the belt. A belt is short but that quick, dreadful tumble to the bottom can seem like five minutes. Frozen in time. You know what is about to take place and you know it’s going to be painful. You just don’t know unpleasant it’s going to be.

Unfortunately, my treadmill is right up against a heavy end table full of books, a couch and the wall. I was jammed, wedged at the base of it. In a scene that I can only describe as horrific. I felt like a hot dog in a gas station on one of those metal warmers, spinning indefinitely. Finally, I was able to bear down against the belt to get it to decelerate. Only momentarily. I felt a slight yank at my hair. Then a more constant one. Great, now my hair is stuck in the belt. I’m going to be bald before this is over. I yell. Scream. Moan. Something that caught Elijah’s attention in the front living room. He walked into the den and his eyes widened at the sight. He walked directly up to me.

“Mom, what are you doing?”

“Trying a new exercise out.” My hair was getting tighter.

“Does it work?” Seriously, Elijah, really?

“Turn it off.” I managed to squeak out as my head bobbed backwards with the pull of my hair. He managed to pull the emergency stop and I relaxed, laying my head straight back on the belt. I was wounded. Defeated by the machine. I was bloody on both knees, elbows and have road rash across my back. My hair, thankfully, was only trapped behind me. I could breathe. Elijah was laughing hysterically at this point.

“I saw you one minute and then you were gone and I heard thump, thump, thump.” He giggled.

For the first time, I had explain to him that next time he hears a thump, thump, thump where mommy is supposed to be…please come check.

Awareness vs. Fear

I was de-friended last week on Facebook. This isn’t the end of the world. But the reason irritated me. It was from a pregnant “friend” and her response was “Thanks for trying to scare me into believing this could happen to my unborn child. I’ve been told he’s healthy and he is. I trust my doctors.”

As CHD families, we are not trying to “scare” anyone. It’s awareness. It’s hoping for the best but being prepared for all possibilities.  You don’t want to get caught blind-sided. My family had 17 days to learn, understand, comprehend and realize the impact of congenital heart defects. But on a realistic note, you can ask all the parents of CHD children, and half were told their child was healthy. CHD’s are not to be taken lightly. It’s not a simple fix and then being sent home. It’s a constant worry. It’s your heart. Please know the facts and always ask for a pulse ox to be done on your newborn child. It’s non-evasive and simple. We’ve all had one done and it’s just as easy for a newborn. It could very well save your child’s life.

　

Congenital Heart Defects are the #1 birth defect. Source: March of Dimes

Congenital Heart Defects are the #1 cause of birth defect related deaths. Source: March of Dimes

About 1 out of every 100 babies are born each year with some type of Congenital Heart Defect. (approx. 40,000/year) Source: Children’s Heart Foundation

Nearly twice as many children die from Congenital Heart Defects in the United States each year as from all forms of childhood cancers combined, yet funding for pediatric cancer research is five times higher than funding for CHD. Source: Children’s Heart Foundation

This year approximately 4,000 babies will not live to see their first birthday because of Congenital Heart Defects. Source: Children’s Heart Foundation

Though research is ongoing, at least 35 defects have now been identified.
4-8% born with CHD have Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome
4-10% born with CHD have Atrioventricular Septal Defects (one of Jonah’s defects)
8-11% born with CHD have Coarctation of the Aorta (one of Jonah’s defects)
9-14% born with CHD have Tetralogy of Fallot
10-11% born with CHD have Transposition of the Great Arteries (one of Jonah’s defects)
14-16% born with CHD have Ventricular Septal Defects

Although some babies will be diagnosed during gestation or at birth, sometimes the diagnosis is not made until days, weeks, months, or even years after. In some cases, CHD is not detected until adolescence or adulthood. Source: March of Dimes  (Think about: we've all read those stories where a 17-year old collaspes and only to find out he/she had a heart defect.)

AND ONE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT FACTS:

It is a proven fact that the earlier CHD is detected and treated, it is more likely the affected child will survive and have less long term health complications. Source: March of Dimes　

"FEAR NOT ILLNESS. THIS PLACE OF CARE, LOVE, AND HOPE IS FOR YOU" I read these words everyday as I walked into Arkansas Children's Hospital.  They are engraved into my heart and my mind and I still believe these words.
　　
　
　

Winter...Finally

It’s a snowy, cold, stay-in-your-pajamas kind of day around our house. I didn’t get up and cook an elaborate breakfast (although, chocolate chip pancakes came to mind.) I didn’t have my bed riddled with children wanting to snuggle. I didn’t even sleep in. I woke at 7. For no reason at all.

I debated going to work. Jason checked the road conditions and explained to me that it just wasn’t possible. He checked again an hour later, and no change. It wasn’t worth it, he said. Plus, we have Kelin. Jason has to go to work tonight. It would have tested him to the limit to stay home with Elijah alone…but Kelin, too. That’s a whole other ballgame and he’s not playing. Kelin is stuck here. Jason promised him he’d get him home today. Kelin told me last night that he could think of worse places to be stuck and gave me a hug. A hug! I love hugs. We hug a lot in this family and Kelin rarely (actually, NEVER) adapts to that situation. But last night, he did. For the first time EVER. But he balked when Jason said he wanted a hug, too. You can’t just hug one of us. Jason playfully picked him up and squeezed him while Kelin playfully fought him off.

The boys played last night in the falling snow. I could hear their giggles coming from the make-shift hut they had created out of a tarp, the frame of a shooting target and a four-wheeler parked strategically close. I waited until almost dark and I made them some hot chocolate and carried it out to their hut. When I asked what they were playing, Elijah stared seriously at me and said, “we’re just trying to survive.”

Today, things are going differently. The boys went outside at 9. Came in 20 minutes and decided that was a bad idea. It’s super cold. The snow isn’t falling. It’s all ice. Not much fun. They were out just long enough to make a wet, cold mess by my front entrance. I’ve cleaned the house. Finished my laundry. They are quietly playing the Wii while Jason catches up on his sleep so he can leave the house by 2, take Kelin home and go to work.

All is quiet and peaceful on our home front on this beautiful, white winter day. I am so blessed and thankful for the simplicity of my life at this moment. No complications. No limitations. Happy, loving, sweet and almost-perfect.

28 Days

28 days without a single blog. It can mean one of two things… 1) I’ve been busy or 2) We’ve (collectively, as a family) have been boring. Let’s go with a mixture of both. The holidays (and all it entails: traveling, play practice, shopping, etc.) and basketball.

My Christmas was fantastic. I only had 1 thing (a stand mixer) on my list and I received many additional gifts that I never knew I wanted. Elijah had a large Christmas. He was still opening toys three to four days after Christmas. It’s during those times when I think I’ve failed as a mother most. Showering my child with gifts is the lowest I get as a mother. He did make my heart melt when he informed us that we could take away all his presents for a brother or a sister. I wish with all my heart that we could give Elijah that. Unfortunately, he had his brother and his brother passed away. We’ve always said Elijah has a brother and he will always have a brother. But that doesn’t do Elijah much good when he’s bored and wants someone to pick on, play with or wrestle with.

On to things that won’t make me cry while I type. I hate sitting at the computer, alone, crying. Hate it.

We did get one more awesome gift (that has made me cry many times) - Jonah’s name is going on the tribute wall in the lobby of Arkansas Children’s Hospital. Sometime in late January, early February - his name will be there. In the lobby. On the wall. Check it out!

One thing I’m going to do in the new year is just STOP. I’m going to take the time to enjoy every day instead of rushing through it and then wondering why Christmas came around so quickly again. I have been rushing through everything once I hit Jonah’s 1^st birthday. I figured the pain would be less if I would just get further and further away from it. That didn’t happen. And every day that went by made me want to go back to day 1. Time doesn’t heal the pain. It never will. Grief is a jumbled up mess of chaos. You can’t explain it. There is no typical manner in which to act. People can read books, try to analyze it but it will always be different, strange, odd and never comfortable. Awkward best describes grief for me.

I’m ready for spring…yes, already…I’m not stopping for winter. I tend to do that…always look forward…racing to the next thing that I “love.” My new year’s resolution (although I hate to call it that) is already broken. Day 5 of 2011 and I’m already a failure. I can accept that.

I wrote my prayers out at church this morning. It took me the whole church service to figure it all out. Shouldn’t prayers be easier? I felt foolish not having more than five and not having them spew out much easier. I had to go back to my daily prayers and comprehend what I want each day and spell it out slowly and short. I didn’t want to get too wordy on my prayers. I needed to keep it simple. God knows, right? At the end of church service, I walked forward and placed my prayer list on the stage. Turning around to see all the others walking slowly forward, carrying their white sheets of prayers, made me smile. We were all in the same place at that moment. Did we write our true prayers down? I walked away, realizing I didn’t put my name on the sheet. I shrugged to myself - silly, Wendy….God still knows.

I felt a sense of accomplishment walking out of church today. Church generally makes me feel like I can tackle the entire week ahead of me. It rejuvenates me. It does the same for Elijah. I wish everyone could feel that way.

And this is my life…my 2011 thus far.

Hopefully, as I slow down, life will get more exciting.