My Angel

Church was over, the kids were fed, and it was finally my time to go to the gym while our babies slept soundly in their beds for naptime. I love Sundays for this very moment.

Rather than listen to my iPod during my work out, I decided to try reading instead, so I picked up a copy of "Guidepost" that had obviously been flipped through by many people before me because the cover was torn off and I'm pretty sure several of the pages were missing. I decided to give it a try anyway. For those of you who have never heard of Guidepost Magazine, it is very similar to Readers Digest although it is focused on stories of faith and Christ. Today, maybe this is exactly what I need.

I spent about twenty minutes reading heartwarming stories focused around Christmas time and what the spirit of Christmas is really about. These stories made me feel good but it wasn't until I reached page 56 that my heart was truly engaged in the words that were printed on the page. This particular story was about a boy named Josh. Josh had Downs Syndrome and was in the seventh grade. During his schooling, he never went anywhere without his aide. She was there with him during gym class, art, lunch time, and even on the bus ride home. Josh was getting especially excited for a particular Christmas choir concert that was coming up. He worked with a sepearate tutor for many hours that helped prepare Josh to be able to sing on the risers with all of the other students - alone, without his aide. This would be the first major event Josh would be without someone right by his side to help him if he needed it. When it came time for the concert, Josh was very excited. He wore a blue sweater vest and a bright red tie. His parents sat nervously in the audience, praying to God that everything would go smoothly. Josh's aide sat in front of his parents and at one point she reached back and squeezed the mother's hand and tried to calm her fears by telling her Josh was going to do great. The choir started to sing and Josh's mom slowly began to relax as she saw that no one was even noticing the boy in the middle row that was a little off key. She breathed a sigh of relief. But then it was time for the choir students to light their individual candles. It started with one student's candle and then they were supposed to light the candle to the person on their left, and so on. Josh had experssed to his family earlier that he was most excited for this part! When it came time to light Josh's candle, the boy to Josh's right was having a really hard time getting Josh's candle to light. Several awkward seconds passed and the boy got frustrated and gave up on trying to light Josh's candle. Josh's big, warm smile quickly turned to a frown. Josh's mom was in the audience holding back tears and praying, "Why this too? Why does he have to stand out as someone different in this event too? Why can't he just enjoy this one moment?" But just then, the boy on Josh's left tried to light his candle again and when he realized that Josh's candle was not going to light, the boy switched candles with him and gave his to Josh instead. Josh's smile appeared again and his mom and dad were in the audience, weeping, and thanking that boy who had given up his candle for their son. Whoever that boy was, he knew how important it was for Josh to hold a lit candle and he made it happen for Josh.

So here I am, sweating and peddling faster and faster on this bike, and tears are just pouring from my eyes. This story could be Cale someday and I can only pray that he will have friends in his life that will make a self-sacrifice to help Cale in his time of need. I'm sure I looked like an idiot, sweat pouring from my face and mixing with my tears, but today, you see, is Cale's third birthday and so I'm a little more emotional than maybe on a regular day.

My little boy is three years old now. I go back to that day when I woke up, irritated because I knew I was on bedrest and would most likely just being laying in bed all day long until Alex got home from work. I had been up since about 2:00 in the morning experiencing contractions, but given the events that had taken place a week prior, the contractions were nothing new and so I figured laying in bed was the best thing to do. Five hours later and I was wrestling with whether or not to mention to Alex that the contractions were pretty regular and getting a little stronger, about eight minutes apart. I decided not to tell him and let him go to work as planned. After all, he had sat with me in two different hospitals that always told me the same thing: stay on your medication that should hopefully stop the contractions and DON'T MOVE. I would hate to go to the hospital again and waste four more hours of our life just to hear the same thing. Alex left for work and I tried to go back to sleep. Turns out that if you don't close your eyes and just stare at the clock the entire time, sleep isn't really an option. By 9:00 in the morning the contractions are starting to feel different and are now about three minutes apart. I start to panic a little but I still don't call Alex. I wait a little longer, maybe an hour, and decide that something is definitely not right and so I call my husband at work. I tell him what's going on and he tells me to call his mom to have her bring me to the hospital. Some of you may think he's not being very supportive but you have to understand this has happened twice now and we have never gotten any different news. If something indeed had changed, he would be at the hospital in an instant. My mother-in-law came to pick me up, I hobbled downstairs, got into her car and we headed for the hospital. She insisted I use a wheelchair but I refuse. She insists some more and so I give in. I don't really have the energy to put up a good fight. She wheels me down the hall and we wait in the Labor and Delivery Unit for what seems like an hour while they get a room ready for me. The contractions are annoying, not really painful, but we sat outside the nursery and so looking at all of the newborn babies helped keep my mind off of my body and all that was going on. My room was finally ready and they put me on monitors to keep track of my contractions and my baby's heart rate. At this point I am starting to get scared and so my mother-in-law leaves to go down to the gift shop and brings me back a stuffed bear and a few magazines. Keep in mind, I have no idea that having a baby today is even a possibility. I was probably the most naiive pregnant woman on the face of the planet. I try to flip through some of the magazines and then something happens that makes me shoot up in the bed and scream to the nurses that something is wrong. I didn't know until weeks afterwards what had happened right then, but I was later informed that my water had broken. At 31 weeks pregnant, there were all of a sudden a dozen people in my room rushing around and talking very fast with one another. I was scared, crying, and all I wanted was for Alex to be there to hold my hand. Luckily, my mother-in-law is very good with these kinds of situations and she had already put in a call to Alex and within a few minutes he walked through the door. I don't know if it was because I was scared or if it was due to what was happening with my body, but I became so ferociously cold that I clung to the bed rails and shook uncontrollably. I later learned Alex wasn't scared until he saw me shaking like that. A few more minutes passed and my doctor was finally there. She looked at the monitors and after briefly talking with the nurses, she looked at me and said, "We're going to have a baby today." At that moment I burst into tears. I may have been naiive but I knew that it was way too early for my baby boy to be born. I didn't even know if babies could survive being born at 31 weeks. Alex and I were both terribly frightened. Luckily, a neonatologist came in and tried to prepare me for what was about to happen. Cale's hear rate was dropping with each contraction and since he was so little, a C-section would be our only option. I had always desired a natural birth but by this time anything I had imagined was far gone out the window. She told me that he may or may not cry when he's first born but that there will be a team of specialists right there to make sure he's given any medical intervention he might need. I specifically remember her saying that babies born at 31 weeks are a "breeze". She told me not to worry, that everything was going to be fine, and at that very moment I let my grip go from the bed rail, stopped shaking, and looked at Alex and told him I wasn't scared anymore.

At 1:17 PM on November 29, 2006, Cale Alexander Burkhalter was born, weighing 3 lbs and 16 in long. My little peanut. He did indeed cry when they first pulled him from my belly and I will never forget the softness and helplessness in his voice. I saw him for a few seconds before the whisked him to the NICU and it wasn't until 36 hours later that I got to hold him for the very first time.

Today, on November 29, 2009, he's a healthy, happy, wonderfully created three year-old. Some people may look at him and see what's wrong, and no doubt there are days when I, too, focus on what is wrong with him, but today I am reminded that his life is a miracle. Ever since he entered this world he has had to fight for everything. He's experienced more challenges, I believe, in his three years of life than I ever have. And when he was diagnosed with cerebral palsy at six months of age, seeing how far he's come on his thrid birthday brings tears of joy and thankfulness to my eyes.

God is good and He made Cale perfect. In God's eyes, He sees no flaws - only perfection. And today, perfection is all I see, too.

I love you, Sweet Boy. You are my angel.