Monday, June 30, 2025

liam is 21


Friends, it's a momentous milestone!

Today we celebrate the 21st birthday of the one who made us parents, the one who blazes his path and challenges the others to blaze their own, the one who by definition holds most of our "firsts" as mom and dad ... the one and only Liam.


There aren't enough words for me to say how far beyond proud I am of this young man. From the minute I saw his face for the very first time (solemn, crabby, confused but interested at being thrust into the world) I have had an unshakeable faith in him, and he has exceeded every hope I could have laid out. That's not to say he doesn't make mistakes, that he's never grumpy or snappish, that we never fight  he is and does all those things, but never with real malice. He isn't always nice, but he's almost always kind.


Life has tested him this past year. It's impossibly hard to discover at 20 that your previously mostly perfectly functioning body can just ... go haywire, with long-lasting consequences. And now, nearly a year since he first got sick, you know what Liam has to say? That he is a LUCKY PERSON. He has a small collection of objects that remind him of this: a blue glass bird, an enamel pin, a voodoo doll in the form of a wise wizard. I don't think he really needs the reminders, though. He carries that luck with him everywhere now.


We can't be with him on his big day, but yesterday we all went together to a baseball game and then out for lunch. We talked and laughed, and he opened many lego sets. And today he is planning to take donuts to his fellow interns in the morning, and they will take him out tonight to celebrate his big day. 

Liam, you are lucky. But more than that, you are the luck. We love you so, so much.

Saturday, June 07, 2025

moonlight over the tippy 2025: a story in snaps

 Hi! Did you miss me? It's been crazy busy around here. Work has been absolutely bananapants, and some days I barely have enough time to acknowledge that I have a family, let alone do anything that isn't work work work. BUT last night I broke free, and Mike, Henry, and I went for a 20-mile ride on the Panhandle Pathway. Henry is MUCH faster than me, so he rode ahead and told us he would wait at the SAG stop/halfway point for us. (Mike is also much faster than me, but I guess he likes me more than he likes riding fast.) Henry sent me a few snaps along the way, but when he got to the SAG stop, things started getting really interesting. Follow along with us!

First sign of trouble:


Henry immediately follows that up with this text. He's got a score to settle.


At this point, Mike and I are only about a mile away from the SAG stop, and we pass Henry on his return, pedaling like a madman. I try to get a picture but my phone doesn't want to cooperate. In my defense, it can be tricky to take a decent photo while riding 11 mph. Mike and I arrive at the SAG stop, get a drink and some snacks, and I proceed to talk to the many old people in the vicinity. I tell them about Henry's text, then describe Henry and say how nice it would be if they happened to pass him and say hi. Mike and I take a quick selfie, and I fill Liam and Max in on events as they're transpiring.



(I meant to say look "for" him, not "at" him, but I was in a hurry so I didn't have time to consult an editor.)

The whole ride back, I wait excitedly for this text, which finally comes just as we are crossing the Tippecanoe River.


My response:


We arrive at the finish to find Henry sitting at a picnic table with a bunch of old people. I greet him excitedly with, "Hi Henry! Did you make some new friends?" All the old people cheer and congratulate him on a great ride.

I will note that Henry found the whole thing "fairly funny" and does seem willing to ride with us again this season, so I can say with confidence that no Henrys were harmed during this prank.

Friday, October 11, 2024

a big show for mike's big day

 Mike had a big milestone birthday last night (50!!), and we went out to dinner with Henry to celebrate. Then we kept the celebration going by heading outside to see the northern lights for the third (!!!) time this year from our backyard. Mike came out with me early on, but then he snoozed on the couch, so I mostly enjoyed this spectacle by myself. (Henry flatly refused on the grounds that it was too cold and he could just look at the pictures later.) I wrapped up in a blanket and alternated time outside with some warm-up periods on the heated recliner inside. It wasn't as spectacular as May or maybe even August, but every time I see the lights it's magical to me. And this time we got that interesting red streak. It's known as a stable auroral red (SAR) arc, and it's generated from extreme thermal/kinetic energy in the atmosphere. Neat! 









Saturday, September 07, 2024

a horrible month


The trouble started a couple of days before August. I had driven Henry to my mom's house early one morning, and I came home to find Liam throwing up. Over the course of that morning, he threw up at least 15 times. I got alarmed, so I took him to the urgent care center, where the doctor told us it was a virus and he should go home and rest and hydrate. So that's what we did. I bought him every conceivable beverage and soft food to tempt him, and we waited for him to get better. He said his abdomen hurt, but he thought it was just muscle soreness from all the vomiting.

On August 1, he was supposed to move back to campus to start his RA training, but he was still so sick. We went back and forth about what to do, and finally Mike remembered that we have access to a different clinic through his job, so he came home from work and took Liam there. He saw a nurse practitioner, and she told us that something more was definitely going on and he needed a CT scan. She started the long process to get insurance approval, but we decided to just take him straight to the ER in South Bend. By the time we got there, Liam was in bad shape. He could barely walk on his own. At the entrance to the ER, there was a bank of wheelchairs. He sat down in one while I got him registered, and he didn't get back up.

They got him registered and into a room pretty quickly, then took him back for a CT scan. After that, a nurse came and started him on IV antibiotics. She confirmed what we had been thinking: appendicitis. She said the doctor was still looking at the scan, so depending on what he found, Liam would have surgery either that night or the next morning. And the next thing we knew, there were TWO doctors in the room to tell us that not only did he have appendicitis, but that his appendix had ruptured and had been leaking into his abdomen. They took him back for surgery right away, and Mike and I waited. At that time of night, we were the only ones in the surgical waiting room. 

The surgeon finally came to let us know Liam was in recovery. "That was really bad," he told us. It was the first time but far from the last time the doctor would tell us that. He showed us pictures of the appendix to illustrate how bad it was (not that either of us really have any frame of reference for that). He said he did his best to clean out everything that had been leaked into Liam's abdomen, and he had placed a surgical drain to collect anything that may have been left.

Liam was in the hospital for five days after the surgery. He was so sick, so weak, and he couldn't eat anything. He developed a complication called ileus, where (based on my limited understanding) his digestive system was not coming back online after the trauma of the surgery. He got really good care, but the initial infection was just really bad. By the fifth day, he could tolerate a few bites of food, so he got discharged with his drain still in place so he could come home and recover for the rest of that week. 

At home, he was exhausted and lethargic. He could barely eat a bite or two of food at a time, and most of the time he would throw up whatever he had eaten. His drain, which had been collecting decreasing amounts of clear fluid (which is what you want!) suddenly started filling up with cloudy, smelly, thick fluid. This, it turns out, was because he had an abscess, a collection of infectious fluid at the site where the appendix had been removed. After a few days, the drainage had slowed way down, and his surgeon felt comfortable removing the drain and letting Liam go back to school. The vomiting was still a concern (Liam vomited in the office before the surgeon had even left the room!) but the hope was that he would just get better on his own.

His drain came out on a Thursday, and we moved him back to school on Saturday, August 17. Day 17 after surgery, and he still couldn't keep much food down. But classes started that Monday, and he was determined not to miss anything. He was also really worried about his RA job and felt like he had so much to catch up on. We talked several times over the weekend, and he was tired but said he was doing ok.


On Monday, things got worse. Max called me specifically to tell me how worried he was. He said Liam could barely eat a few blueberries without throwing up. He said "he just looks so bad, Mom." Liam himself was texting me, telling me that just getting to classes was the hardest thing he has ever done. He was thinking about just coming home and taking a gap semester or even a gap year. He felt like his life was ruined and that he was losing everything he had worked so hard for. That night, I had Mike call his uncle Ken, a retired doctor, because I felt like surely something else must be going on. Ken said he agreed, and he recommended that we get Liam in to see the surgeon in the next day or two.

It was 10:30 at night by then, and I decided I couldn't wait another second, so we got in the car, and I drove us to campus, with Mike in the passenger seat calling the on-call surgeon to see what we could do. They said they could see Liam the next day, but he should be all right to wait. We got to campus around midnight, and Max was waiting outside for us. He and Mike went upstairs and helped Liam out to the car. He was incredibly sick again, almost as bad as the first time we took him to the ER. We got him home at 2:30 in the morning, and he tried to rest a little bit.

We finally got in to see the on-call surgeon (our surgeon was in London for the week) in Elkhart a little after noon. He started to examine Liam, and raised his shirt to check his incision sites, and I gasped because I could see how swollen he was. The surgeon told us to head over to the hospital to register for a CT scan, and we were almost there when he came running down the hall behind us to escort us into the ER instead. It turns out that when a surgeon brings you to the ER and asks them to expedite registration, things happen pretty quickly. Before we knew it, Liam had a room in the ER and had been taken for a CT scan, which revealed an abscess the size of a football (!!) in his abdomen. 

That day, he had a second surgery. For this one, they kept him in the CT scanner while an interventional radiologist drained the abscess and put in another surgical drain. They drained a full liter of fluid that day. Again, I don't have a lot of context, but my understanding is that this is A Lot. He felt better immediately after they finished. They got him up to a regular room, and he spent another day in the hospital. He had a very scary reaction right after we got to the room where he started shaking uncontrollably for a full 15 minutes -- the doctor said this was basically his body trying to adjust to the sudden lack of the abscess. It was terrifying to watch. I have never been happier to see anyone than I was to see my brother walk in at minute 14. He was at the hospital on a paramedic call, and he just popped upstairs for a minute to check on us. 

After he was released from the hospital a second time, Liam came home for the rest of the week to recover. I did have to take him back to campus one day for a meeting he couldn't miss, plus a quick stop at the bookstore for his textbooks. He was still really weak by then but getting visibly stronger. He was able to start eating again pretty quickly after that too -- it turns out that having that abscess against his intestines was what was causing all the vomiting. The following Monday, I took him back for bloodwork, a follow-up visit with the surgeon, and a repeat CT scan to make sure everything was healing and nothing else had developed. He got cleared to go back to campus again, so Mike took him back Monday night, then went back to get him Wednesday night. Thursday morning, Avalon took him back to Elkhart, where he had his drain removed, and then I took him back to campus. That Thursday marked day 29 since his initial surgery, and 31 days since our first visit to the urgent care center.


His drain has been out for a week now, and he's gotten stronger every day. He says he still feels a little fragile on the inside. He's been working so hard to get caught up with his classes and all of his RA duties, and he finally feels like he's on decent footing with both.

Those are the facts. But no matter how hard I try or what words I choose, I'll never really be able to capture what this past month has been like emotionally. I had a lot of quiet time with Liam in the hospital and at home. A lot of time just watching him sleep and being grateful for every single breath, while being hyperaware of how badly things could have gone with even one different decision at any point. He is a grown man, but he is still my child. My first baby. During all that quiet time, I thought about a great many things, different futures spread out before us, the ways life can turn on a dime. It is going to take a very long time to recover from the trauma of this month, but we are so very lucky, because time is something we still have. 

Sunday, June 09, 2024

graduation 2024

 


He made it! WE made it! Friday night we had perfect weather for the graduation ceremony. Our cousin James gave a lovely valedictorian speech that included not one but SEVEN Taylor Swift references, all of which flew right under my radar. After the ceremony, we navigated the absolute chaos all around the school so Max could get pictures with all of his friends and some special guests. 

It's Sunday afternoon as I write this, and Max has spent the entire weekend doing quintessential American graduation things: going out to dinner with his closest friends, going to his friends' open houses, and just generally appearing at and disappearing from the house at random intervals. He's spent plenty of time with his lady friend, who also graduated Friday (class president!). He's just out here living his best end-of-high-school life, and I love this for him.

Congrats to the class of 2024!
















Thursday, May 30, 2024

hello, farewell

 It's the last day of high school for Max! 

I remember his first day of kindergarten, how he was nervous but so brave, and how Liam talked to him about what to expect and made him feel excited and happy to be there. I have loved all of Max's school years, even the time he snatched $40 from my desk and used it to buy novelty erasers and books for all his friends at the book fair. Even when he started a cuss club with those same friends, which consisted of them writing down every naughty word they knew -- only then one of them dropped the paper with the list, and when the teacher picked it up, all the friends pointed to Max as the ringleader. All of his adventures have delighted me ... even the ones that frustrated me at the same time.


When they were very little, we used to say that Liam was more interested in how things work, and Max was more interested in how people work. I still think that's true. I feel a little sad that as the second child, Max is always in a place of comparison -- when there's only one child, there's nothing to compare with, but once you have more, you can't help but constantly observe their similarities and differences. But Max is his own person. He is happy to walk beside his brothers, but he is just as comfortable standing tall and proud on his own. He is smart and funny and thoughtful and so charming. He's going to be a wonderful teacher, in and out of the classroom. He's going to make -- HE ALREADY HAS MADE -- such a difference in the lives of the people who know him. Sometimes I feel like I could just crack in two from the force of my pride in him. 



And on this last day of his senior year, I'm proud of us too. It is hard work to bring a human into this world, and there's never any guarantee that your young human will turn out well, despite your best intentions. I know we're all just out here making the best choices we can as parents, and sometimes that has great results, and other times maybe not so much. I feel so fucking fortunate to have raised this young man. So utterly lucky to be here to watch him take these steps toward adulthood and know that we've helped him get there. I cannot wait to see what comes next. 

Monday, April 08, 2024

total eclipse


What a momentous day ... for us all to be scattered to the wind, doing our own separate things.

Mike was at work.

Liam was on campus.

Max drove to Muncie with James and their friend Ryan to be in the path of totality.

Henry went to an event called Total Eclipse in the Park (a name that delighted me in ways that baffled him).

And I was home working in my office.

But still, it was an impressive thing to see. And for a minute, as we all looked to the sky, even far removed from each other, we were all together.