He wasn't suppose to make it. That's what doctors told us from the beginning. Kari, upon learning that there was a lack of amniotic fluid during Jayden's pregnancy, was directed to get to University of Chicago so we could get the opinion of the true experts. It was those experts that told us that ending the pregnancy was the best bet, that Jayden would not survive birth, and if he did he would not survive long after. The problem was Jayden's bladder. The valve that holds urine inside the bladder until a human is ready to urinate was sealed shut, not allowing any waste to escape his body. This damaged the bladder, the kidneys, and kept his amniotic fluid dangerously low. This impacted his lungs, which were underdeveloped. Because he wasn't getting enough oxygen, his brain was impacted as well. All signs were pointed in the wrong direction. The doctors gave us our options, the recommendation was grim. Terminate the pregnancy. Kari and I decided together that these were not our decisions to make, and instead of listening to the experts we put the situation in the hands of God to handle.
On June 28, 2005 Jayden was born at The University of Chicago with a massive team of doctors and nurses ready to give him every opportunity to survive. I was in the room, and my first memory was of this tiny perfect baby arriving into our lives, perfect in every way...except one. He was blue. They delivered Jayden, placed him momentarily on Kari's chest so she could see him, then whisked him away.
Those moments were a blur, but I do remember an entire team of people taking Jayden and quickly disappearing out of the room and down the hallway. I stayed with Kari as they tended to her. They told us that they would update us, they would let us know if anything changed.
As time passed by, we were told that all attempts to support his breathing were failing, that his passing was inevitable. Nurses helped Kari from her bed into a wheelchair. It was time to take the walk to visit Jayden, we were told that it was time to say goodbye to our baby boy. I vividly remember the walk down the hallway and through the glass tube that connected our building to the building next door where Jayden was being treated. I remember seeing a nurse running towards us, I remember fearing that we were too late. The nurse rounded the corner, stopped, and then briefly explained to us that they had found the right ventilator for Jayden...he was taking in oxygen and was stabilizing long enough for us to visit with him.
He wasn't supposed to make it. Minutes turned into hours, hours turned into overnight. At each turn they prepared us for the worst, at one point even bringing in a paster to pray for Jayden and support us in saying goodbye. Jayden, however, wasn't listening to the experts. He was determined to fight, his resiliency would be a model for us all.
That model of resiliency would serve us well as we continued through the aftermath of the impact of Jayden's arrival. Kari, spending her entire time either at the hospital, at appointments, or caring for Jayden, was unable to work at all. I was unable to work my normal part time jobs, the hustles beyond my full time teacher job that brought in enough money to give us the slight cushion to keep the family safe. The combination of increased costs along with less income was like a mini atom bomb to our financial security. The bills quickly became larger than the paychecks. The mortgage was first, the company unwilling to help in any way. The house was quickly sold before an impending foreclosure. Next they came and took the car, right out of the driveway in front of the neighbors. Through all that, there he was...Jayden breathing in and out. Growing and thriving, even through the surgeries, complications, and setbacks along the way. Resilient.
When you have a teacher like Jayden you can't help but reevaluate what's truly important. You reevaluate how you look at things, how you view those around you. You reevaluate what constitutes an emergency, what is worth fighting for. You recognize that our capacity to fight is greater that you previously thought. You recognize the value of the people in our life that truly have your best interests in mind. You recognize that people have fought battles, and continue to fight battles that you have no idea about. You even see for the first time that people around you carry scars both physically and mentally, both on the outside as well as on the inside.
In this current environment, resiliency is an important trait to have for all of us. We are scared. We are given imperfect information, no true time lines about how this ends. Many are left fighting silent battles that others don't know about. Maybe it's with financial security, maybe it's with depression or anxiety. This is a the time where we must simplify, focus on what's truly important, and look out for one another.
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