Seasons come and go
In the midst of an ever-changing world
This on thing I know
You've got to live every moment
As though it was your last
Before the thief of always
Steals tomorrow from your grasp
Before the chance to know his love
Has somehow passed you by
Let your heart reach out
Right here, right now
For the Lord to touch your life
On June 5, 2000, my dad and aunt were talking on the phone about their beloved Lakers. Would Kobe and Shaq win the championship? In the midst of the conversation, my dad stopped talking. My aunt dialed and dialed and only got a busy signal. With my uncle having a car all she could do was call whomever was home and dispatch them to the house quickly. When my mom and I arrived home, we saw my uncle banging on the door. As we got out the car, he explained what was going on. We opened the door and went to the family room, to find my dad with blue lips, the TV on, and the phone laying next to his hand.
After things become a blur, I know I called 911 and they instructed my mom and I to pick up my dad, who was 6’1 and weighed 200 or so pounds, but that day, in that moment, he felt as light as a feather. We pumped and breathed and breathed and pumped. I remember thinking why is the ambulance taking so long. I ran over to our neighbor’s house to borrow her phone to call 911 again and they assured me they were on their way. It seemed like forever before the fire truck and ambulance pulled up in front of the house. I directed them inside as I tried to call my dad’s brother and mother. I can still see my mom coming out of the house with the stretcher telling me to wait for someone to pick me up. In all of the madness, I never did figure out at which point my uncle left or where he went.
Minutes later, my aunt with the phone still in her hand, arrived with my other aunt and uncle and off we went. I had never firemen, paramedics, emergency room workers in action before and my hats go off to them and the amazing work they do. The nurses had put my mom in a private waiting room, the hospital chaplain was there with her, and when I arrived with some of our family, then the doctor came out and gave us the news. The last thing I said to my father that morning when he dropped me off at work was “Have a nice day.” But he one upped me and had the best day ever that ended with him meeting His maker.
Time is such a funny thing. Sometimes it seems like the nine years my dad has been gone has simply been nine years. Yet other times, it’s feels like forever. I can’t remember the sound of his voice anymore. The sound of his laugh. I see his obituary picture regularly hanging in a frame in the family room so I know what he looked like. I still remember the color of the tie that he was buried in, that I was shopping for when he died five days before his birthday and less than two weeks before Father’s Day. I remember his sense of humor and the things he would have funny.
I wonder if that is why sometimes I’m drawn to certain men that remind me in some ways of my father. Rudy’s brilliance and thirst for knowledge and truth reminds me so much of my father and I know if they had ever met they would have truly liked it each other. Rudy’s friend, Jeff, with his presence and I can’t even put into words but something when I talk to him reminds me of my dad. And then there is Marcus, from the first time I met him I thought of my dad, maybe it’s his gift to gab or his love for his kids. While I can’t remember the pitch of my dad’s tone talking to these men keep a part of him alive for me.
It’s hard to imagine that he was dead years before I became a mother. It seems like I’ve been a mother for forever. My life has two parts: children and before children. And just as time plays tricks on me with my dad’s death, the same is true with Layla being home.
Six months and three days ago, we had never met. I had seen pictures of the girl I called Layla. I had agreed and committed myself to adopt this little girl, but yet I had never held her in my arms, didn’t know her likes or dislikes. It’s incredible to think that early Christmas morning, I was singing “and they should be in bed/It’s so hard babysitting these guys,” trying to fit my six pairs of pants and tops, which was really packing economically for me, tuna to go, ramen noodles, and fruit packs for two weeks, along with Layla’s clothes, shoes, socks, diapers, formula, and the clothes and toys being donated to the orphanage, all for the trip that would culminate with me becoming a mother for the third time.
It feels like Layla has been home since the beginning of time. It seems like I always had three kids. I always carried a diaper bag. I always had a crib in my room. But I know this isn’t true, it’s just time making it appear that way. I can easily recall certain things about my life before Layla comes home, but it doesn’t feel real anymore. Didn’t I always drive a minivan with a double stroller taking up space in the back of the car?
Yet in other ways, six months is such a short period of time, particularly when I think about all koala bear has been through. Seven months ago, she had probably never seen a non-Vietnamese person and now she lives in one of the most diverse cities in the world. She has adjusted and is adjusting so well to all the new sights, smells, and sounds that surround her. She handles airplanes as easily as she handles car rides. In three years, I know she’ll handle her first cruise with ease. Actually she’ll be so at ease, she’ll send out postcards saying, ‘I’m on a boat. And it’s real.’
Layla came home weighing 16lbs and only 25” tall. The doctor asked the nurse to re-measure Layla because she couldn’t believe an eleven-month-old could be that short. The ped was concerned about the low muscle tone and recommended therapy. Last month at a visit, the doctor couldn’t get over how well Layla was doing. How she was growing – gained over 3lbs and grew 2 ½”. She was amazed at Layla’s progress. As she should be, Layla is an amazing girl. When Layla was first evaluated for therapy, we set a list of goals we thought was possible for her to achieve. Without therapy even beginning, she has already met the goals which were first established for her four months ago.
When she first came home, she couldn’t hold her own bottle. Then she could hold her bottle, but refused to feed herself. She would wait until you put the food up to her mouth that was all. Now she puts food on her spoon and a lot of the time the food on the spoon actually makes it into her mouth. Koala bear now differentiates between apple juice, prune juice, water, and milk. And when she doesn’t want something she either pushes it away or turns her head away in disgust. When it’s food she doesn’t want she has the new and disgusting thing where she puts the food in her mouth, then uses her tongue to push it back out. Yuck little girl! Just refuse the food.
I always say that Rowan can hear and smell food or drinks from two clicks away then Layla can hear a bathroom door from the same distance. This little girl loves to play in the toilet; loves opening bathroom cabinets and tossing out everything underneath. When you ask her to put the toothbrushes and toothpaste back, she promptly closes the cabinet door and goes about her business. Sneaky devil. Did I mention she’s a genius? She knows mommy isn’t going to sit there while she slowly picks up every item or rather guide her hand to help her pick up the items, so why not go about your business? I mean, isn’t that why she has an older brother and sister? To have them pick up after her? Layla loves crawling into the shower and trying to climb into the shower. Hey Shorty, you’re short, it’s not happening.
In the six months we’ve been home, I’ve tried to teach her sign language like I did Rowan and Jory. They could sign simple things and understand simple signs and phrases. Layla refuses to sign. At first she did nothing, she didn’t acknowledge a sign nor would she do one. Then she held her hand out, palm up and that was her sign for: give me some; may, I have some more; may, I have some of your drink; can you please pick me up; can you please put me down; do that again, etc….Every time she did her sign, I would sign what she meant but to no avail. I mean why would you learn to sign when your “sign” got you what you wanted. But now that Layla is older, she’s moved on to pointing and babbling. The one index finger pointing at who knows what with her babbling up a storm about who knows what, but everyone is suppose to understand and know exactly what she’s talking about. I should record her, tape her, then play it back for her when she’s talking and ask her what she was saying. I wonder if she would know.
Her personality has truly emerged and she’s feisty, brilliant, funny, and when she’s really laughing she chortles. She loves to dance and for a while thought shaking her head and laughing was dancing. On the Saturday before our six month gotcha day, she took five whole steps, which is more than the one or two steps she has taken to date. In half-a-year, she’s learned the art of jealousy and it is not beyond her to push her brother or sister off my lap. Or rather attempt to push them off. I’m her mommy, they better recognize. Jory doesn’t think this is funny or cute in the least, which is odd because he was quick to point out to Rowan, “That’s my mommy. Not yours.” Doesn’t he realize Layla is just doing the same thing except non-verbally? I guess not.
My baby truly has grown and changed since she’s been home. I wonder what my dad would have thought about his three grandchildren. My mom always said that Jory would definitely be involved in sports which is completely true, but he would have Rowan and Layla, as soon as she could talk and walk, down there with him. My dad was no sexist when it came to kids playing sports. He would be down at the YMCA from the tip off of the first game until the very last game. He always said and thought it was sad that the morning games with the little kids would be packed with parents and family, but by the time the high schoolers were on the court nary a parent could be seen or found. I think my dad would have been just as madly in love with my kids as my mom.
Do you remember the time
When we fell in love
Do you remember the time
When we first met
Do you remember the time
When we fell in love
Do you remember the time
For one month and four days, I have twins. What a way to kick off the year!
And since I showed pictures with her sister, I had to show some with her big brother. Aunt Ash check out the shirt Jory is rockin'.
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