Big Toothies In

I knew this day would come eventually. But like so many milestones--good or solemn occasions, it just snuck up on me. We were sitting in church today awaiting the annual spring cantata when I glanced over at my freckled nine year old and noticed his two front incisors, his "big teeth" were even. They had come in fully. Now you may not think that's a big deal--but it hit me like a jab in the side.

Logan was late to lose his teeth. He was 8 1/2 before his first tooth came out. Many a Christmas and birthday passed and he would just pray that he would lose his first tooth. When all his classmates' "big teeth" had come in, he was still sporting his baby teeth. While it caused him some distress, it was just fine with me. You see, Logan is my baby.

When Logan arrived, we knew he would be our last child. We already had 2 very active toddlers in the house and knowing out human limits, we believed our quiver was full. When I was just a few months along with Logan I went in for a routine ultrasound. Having gone through this a few other times, I found the tech to be a little quiet--careful with her words. I suspected something was wrong. When I asked if everything was ok, her curt reply was, "The doctor will contact you with the results". My heart sank, knowing that if everything was fine I wouldn't be getting a call like that.

The next day Peter was on a brief errand and I got a call from the midwife. She gave me the grave news that there was a chance something was terribly wrong. They had seen some indicators that our baby may have a Trisomy disorder--one that at best would allow him to survive 4 months or so after birth, hooked to a feeding tube and with a myriad of other health problems. We would have to travel to Dartmouth for some conclusive tests and special imaging to know for sure. The wait was harrowing. When Peter arrived home he found me slumped on the floor sobbing at the news.

Suddenly, all the dreams I had for our small brood were shattered. I was facing carrying a baby, loving it for 9 months--only to give him back to God after a very short time. The worst part was not knowing and having to continue on caring for the other kids in the meantime--not succombing to my grief. My faith was stretched and I pulled from lessons in faith I had learned in earlier years. I drank from a deep well of hope and bathed in the balm of prayer. Our friends and church rallyed around us and prayed us through--and they prayed for Logan.

Three weeks later the day arrived and we traveled to Dartmouth for the battery of tests needed to plan the future. Whatever the outcome we knew this child was a borrowed gift and our job was to love him for the time we were allowed to hold him. The hours that followed seemed to hold the course of our future in each tick of the clock and every test result revealed. I cannot tell you the sheer sobs of relief I felt as the 3D ultrasound revealed there were no signs of Trisomy defects. What it did reveal was a perfectly formed wonder--a gift from God.

From the time he was one year old I never had to worry about Legos being a choke hazard to Logan because he was too interested in building what his brothers were building. He draws detailed, imaginative pictures. He attempts to convince me on a weekly basis that he really doesn't have to go to school because he's going to grow up to be a Lego designer anyways--and afterall he already knows how to count money which is the only skill he'll need.

When Logan has recycling duty he frequently comes back with half the discards. On the journey to the basement he has designed a robot, a car, or a machine for doing homework from the various milk containers, cracker boxes, and discarded empty pineapple cans. He is the baby I relaxed with--allowing him to wear his Tigger costume for 3 days in a row if he wanted to-- even to the grocery store.

When I tuck Logan in we have a game we play. It starts out with, "I love you to the moon and back a gazillion times". Then, he replies with something he loves--like "I love you more than gummy worms". I respond with something I love---"I love you more than cheesecake" and so on and so on. One day as we were snuggling, Logan whispered in my ear, "I love you more than Legos". I knew I had arrived then.

When Logan finally lost his first tooth he was giddy. Before it was even ready to come out he was begging me to "get out the pliers" and help it along. He couldn't wait to grow up and get his big teeth. I was in no rush--the pliers stayed in the workshop and I cherished his toothless grins through freckled dimples--hands always busy and mind always creating something.

So you see, when I looked across the aisle and saw my baby with two even incisors--big toothies in, my heart sank. They weren't like that yesterday. Little by little, day by day they grow bigger and bigger. Even the baby grows up and will probably create new Lego sets for kids to play with and parents to step on in their barefeet. But for Logan--as he grows there is special significance of it for me. It is a reminder of the incredible mercy showered on us with his arrival. So many families do struggle with caring for a special needs child. It could have easily been our family too.

When I think about what could have been, and the miraculous gift we were given I am humbled and grateful. I know his big toothies had to come in---but somedays I wish they could stay little just a little longer--but at the same time how wonderful it is to see what God grows.