Thursday, March 18, 2010
9:55 AM | Posted by
Unknown
I have been asked to share a memory of each of my children. At the risk of embarrassing them all, I will try to keep each comment short, thus lessening the public pain of a parent doting on his children.
Eleanor was my first exposure to parenthood. Every tragedy was for the first time, and therefore more emotionally extreme for us as parents. When she had pneumonia and we had to tent her crib and buy a humidifier, and prop up her mattress so her head was elevated, we were terrified. If she got much worse we would have to take her to the hospital so the doctors and nurses could give her the care she needed. We stayed up almost all night for several nights in a row, wondering if she might die, and how we would handle it after having lost our first child prematurely. Watching her labored breathing and the amount she suffered bonded me to her in a way I can't explain. I have felt protective of her ever since.
Anna got lost in the middle of the family somehow. Eleanor had special needs in school, Paul had medical conditions that needed constant attention, and Elizabeth was the baby, so demanded her fair share of time and effort. Anna was quiet, and well behaved, so we didn't give her the time and attention she needed. I will always feel bad about that. My biggest wake up call was one day when she and I were doing dishes in our house in Orem (upstairs). We were just talking, and I was focusing my attention on the dishes in my hands. Suddenly she said in a weak voice, "Daddy." Something in her voice told me she was slipping away. I turned immediately to see her upturned face. Her eyes became vacant, and her pupils instantly became fully dilated as she started to fall to the floor. I thought I was watching my little baby die. My heart just broke on the spot. I caught her as she slumped to the floor, calling her name, but with no response. Then, without any precursor, she rolled over on the floor and threw up a little bit. Any of my children will attest to how much I hate throw-up. But I was almost grateful to see it because it meant she was still alive. She confessed that occasionally she would simply pass out for no apparent reason. Ever since then I have been worried about her health. I just don't want to lose her again like I thought I did that day.
It is hard for me to look at Paul and remember him as a young child, until I see his son PJ with a stick in his hand. PJ will walk for hours with something in his hand to hold on to. It really doesn't matter what it is, as long as he has something to wave in the air, poke things with, and swing. That was Paul to a tee when he was little. Sometimes we almost had to resort to hiding the broom or mop because Paul was always swinging anything long he could get his hands on. Once, again in the Orem house, he put a croquet mallet through the Belnaps downstairs window. I wonder how many things Paul will have to repair or replace because his son has the same love of sticks.
Marie and I got off to a rocky start. She had Elaine all to herself her whole life, then I moved in with four other children and totally disrupted her life. Our invasion into her shrine, and yes, Elaine had turned the whole house into a monument to Marie's accomplishments turned her world upside down. We were a totally dysfunctional family. My first glimpse at the Marie Elaine knew before we got married was when we picked her up from a ranch she had been at for a few months. I had never seen her so happy and relaxed, so polite and careful of others around her. I was truly impressed. Now that she is getting married (in April), I am seeing her with her baby. She just dotes on Tayah. I have never seen her be this happy before, and it gives me great joy.
Elizabeth is, in many ways, too much like her father for her own good. She is afraid of life, and doesn't know how to approach it. I'm afraid that is my fault. What I think about when I think of Elizabeth as a person, is her way of making you feel good about yourself. She has a way of cuddling up to you either physically or verbally so that you are more than happy to do whatever she wants you to do. Maybe it is just me. I always was a pushover for someone who actually liked me. Whenever she wanted to stay up late, she (and the others as well) had but to start scratching my back or rubbing the back of my head and neck and I was out like a light. then when she was tired she went to bed and left me sleeping on the couch, contented and blissfully ignorant of what she had just gotten away with, until I woke up.
Eleanor was my first exposure to parenthood. Every tragedy was for the first time, and therefore more emotionally extreme for us as parents. When she had pneumonia and we had to tent her crib and buy a humidifier, and prop up her mattress so her head was elevated, we were terrified. If she got much worse we would have to take her to the hospital so the doctors and nurses could give her the care she needed. We stayed up almost all night for several nights in a row, wondering if she might die, and how we would handle it after having lost our first child prematurely. Watching her labored breathing and the amount she suffered bonded me to her in a way I can't explain. I have felt protective of her ever since.
Anna got lost in the middle of the family somehow. Eleanor had special needs in school, Paul had medical conditions that needed constant attention, and Elizabeth was the baby, so demanded her fair share of time and effort. Anna was quiet, and well behaved, so we didn't give her the time and attention she needed. I will always feel bad about that. My biggest wake up call was one day when she and I were doing dishes in our house in Orem (upstairs). We were just talking, and I was focusing my attention on the dishes in my hands. Suddenly she said in a weak voice, "Daddy." Something in her voice told me she was slipping away. I turned immediately to see her upturned face. Her eyes became vacant, and her pupils instantly became fully dilated as she started to fall to the floor. I thought I was watching my little baby die. My heart just broke on the spot. I caught her as she slumped to the floor, calling her name, but with no response. Then, without any precursor, she rolled over on the floor and threw up a little bit. Any of my children will attest to how much I hate throw-up. But I was almost grateful to see it because it meant she was still alive. She confessed that occasionally she would simply pass out for no apparent reason. Ever since then I have been worried about her health. I just don't want to lose her again like I thought I did that day.
It is hard for me to look at Paul and remember him as a young child, until I see his son PJ with a stick in his hand. PJ will walk for hours with something in his hand to hold on to. It really doesn't matter what it is, as long as he has something to wave in the air, poke things with, and swing. That was Paul to a tee when he was little. Sometimes we almost had to resort to hiding the broom or mop because Paul was always swinging anything long he could get his hands on. Once, again in the Orem house, he put a croquet mallet through the Belnaps downstairs window. I wonder how many things Paul will have to repair or replace because his son has the same love of sticks.
Marie and I got off to a rocky start. She had Elaine all to herself her whole life, then I moved in with four other children and totally disrupted her life. Our invasion into her shrine, and yes, Elaine had turned the whole house into a monument to Marie's accomplishments
Elizabeth is, in many ways, too much like her father for her own good. She is afraid of life, and doesn't know how to approach it. I'm afraid that is my fault. What I think about when I think of Elizabeth as a person, is her way of making you feel good about yourself. She has a way of cuddling up to you either physically or verbally so that you are more than happy to do whatever she wants you to do. Maybe it is just me. I always was a pushover for someone who actually liked me. Whenever she wanted to stay up late, she (and the others as well) had but to start scratching my back or rubbing the back of my head and neck and I was out like a light. then when she was tired she went to bed and left me sleeping on the couch, contented and blissfully ignorant of what she had just gotten away with, until I woke up.
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