Monday 9 January 2012

"Son"

Brave Heart...  The Patriot...  Super Heros... "Son".

He arrived in June, 1992... in Montreal.  He was delivered at the Royal Vic Hospital.  We arrived less nervous, more dressed... very excited... unable to hold off the arrival of our second baby... our "Son"

The intern in charge of Karen's care and monitoring was more nervous and less prepared than we were.  How could he have possibly known how to be prepared for the two of us...  When we were admitted into the "Royal Vic" we were lead into a hallway that had been turned into the pre-delivery room.   Curtain dividers, paint peeling off the walls and a blinking floresant light.  Karen was amazing... full of joy... her face glowed with anticipation.  The nervousness of the intern caused us to giggle and whisper when he would leave our space... he struggled to understand if Karen was dialated... he fumbled with the instruments ... mumbled his words.  A misunderstood phrase caused Karen and I to erupt into laughter... her water broke... with tears of laughter running down her cheeks she informed the intern and He froze.  Imagine a mother in the early pains of labor... laughing and enjoying the arrival of her baby...  a "Son"

When the pain began to become more severe and more often Karen became quite, peaceful and patient.  Her labor moved quickly and soon the epidural was administered... we forgot our cards, no clowns, no circus... just Karen, myself and a nervous intern.  There was no time for a card game... Karen quickly moved into the time to deliver... our doctor arrived... and began to advise Karen on what to do... I stood by her side, I held her hand... I watched in awe.  Dr. Ben calmly asked Karen to stop pushing for a moment... I saw her make a quick and determined move of her hand... the umbilical cord unraveled... Dr. Ben asked Karen to push and she did... seconds later I welcomed him into the world.  I said "Karen, its a boy... she smiled... I cut the umbilical cord (my big part #2) ... I placed him in Karen's arms... they embraced... beautiful... perfect.  We named him Dylan Scott... our "Son".

Dylan lay with Karen for a while... I held him for awhile... after a few minutes Dr. Ben said they needed to take him for a closer examination.  The umbilical cord had wrapped itself around his neck during delivery and they wanted to make sure everything was 100%.  I remembered the way Dr. Ben had calmly asked Karen to quit pushing and her quick and determined movement... Doctors are a gift from God... Dylan was 100%.

Karen and Dylan were moved into a private room... grey walls, a twin bed, a bathroom in the hall, chipped and falling paint, and construction workers walking by the door.  Karen had to inform the staff that Dylan had jaundice... I took in Madison to see her new brother... she was so excited,,, so cute... I placed Dylan on her lap... She was instantly in love... The sight of her holding her brother... reclined on her mother... the look of majestic spender on her little face... Our love had created a life... Two had become one... Three had become four... it was complete... full... fulfilling.  A brother... a "Son".

We couldn't wait to get him home.  His room was painted blue Alladin, Prince Charming and other heros from the Disney world were painted on his walls... life size... including a seven foot face of "Genie",  An antique rod iron crib from Margret Call a 150 year old rocker from my great great grand mother and gifts from his friends and family.  Dylan was a "cuddler"...  he wanted to be with you and in your arms all the time.  For two years Karen did everything with one arm and hand... Dylan was always in the other... very happy... very content.  He was his mothers side kick.  He was his sisters biggest fan.  My "Son".

When Dylan decided it was time to walk... when he was ready... he hit the ground running.  A blur of curly blonde hair.  He would literally run his socks off... I can still see them flopping as he ran.  When Dylan decided to talk... when he was ready... he called Karen "Mom"or "Mommy"... he called me "dad" or "daddy" and he called Madison... "Mathon".   His favorite person in the world was his big sister... He wanted to eat what she ate, play what she played, sleep where she slept... they where "two peas in a pod".  He dressed as a pirate, loved swords, wore a chicago bulls outfit for two years until it was absolutely to small... and loved to pee outside... what a boy... Dylan Scott... my "Son".

My "Son" is gentle... sensitive... loving... I spanked him one time... just once... while trying to score a goal against his sister in hockey he became frustrated and hit her in the nose with the little plastic stick... it really hurt... Madison cried.  I explained to Dylan that he could not hit his sister like that and that he would need to be punished... He bowed his head and agreed... "Yes Daddy"... he was so sorry... so sad he had hurt his sister... so pure.  I gave Him one swat on the bottom... he folded into my arms... I told him how much I loved him... He went and hugged Madison and apologized... I went upstairs and wept... my "Son".

Dylan went through Elementary school, Jr. High and High School just like he used to run through the house... full speed ... full of joy... laughing.  His hair was no longer  long and curly... he kept his socks pulled up and he was a blast to watch and be around.  Tee ball was all about the cup... clack clack... soccer medals and trophies... drama class and musicals... My "Son".

My Son is loyal... committed... long term... Dylan has had the same group of friends since Kindergarten... Like all friends they have had their growing moments but, they have remained friends and have grown closer throughout their life together.  My Son  has a good heart... full of goodness... He treats others with respect... My son is full of honor... authentic... real.  My Son walks with peace... he does not make trouble nor does he look for trouble.  My Son is fun... funny... great company... entertaining... talented.  My Son knows how to party.  My Son is spiritual... a believer with strong values... anchored... accepting... quality... My "Son".

At one of my lowest moments in life my "Son" looked me in the eyes and said..."Dad,  you are the greatest man I have ever known". ... my son gave me life and hope.  About a month ago my Son in a very honest and moving conversation... like before... looked me in the eyes and said "I love you ... I miss my Dad... I want you back in my life... you have not been there for a long time... I want my Dad back...  I want my Dad in my life".  The words of my Son pierced my heart... opened my spirit... healed my soul... My "Son".

Dylan Scott Padgett...
My Pride.
My Joy.
My Healer.
My Super Hero.
My Future.
My Friend.
My Brave Heart.

My Son.

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