Twice blessed - Voices

Release date: 9/11/2011

Intelligencer Journal/Lancaster New Era
By JOHN CASSIDY, Staff Writer
My son's hands were clenched, shaking, an alarming blend of red and purple.
I could see Jake through the glass window of the nursery at Women & Babies Hospital, and I noticed that most of the other babies were calm or slumbering, though a few seemed to be perturbed.

I circled around to the door leading into the room, where I was met by a nurse. I told her that it was my son who was creating the ruckus, and I asked if I could enter the nursery, fearing the answer would be no because it was the middle of the night.

To my surprise, she looked relieved.  Surprisingly relieved.

Apparently Jake's "fists of fury," as I've come to call them, were having quite the influence on the other bundles of joy. Jake's screams were unsettling for some of the children (a bunch of babies, they), and the nurse said I could come and retrieve my boy.

Stay all night if you like, she said. I think it was more a beg than an offer.

So I hauled my little screamer back to our room, where his mom was sleeping soundly. I sat in a comfy chair and held my son in the darkness.

•••

The peace in the dimly-lit room evaporated when another nurse entered to tell us that Jake had failed his hearing test.

FAILED ... HIS ... HEARING ... TEST!

Remembering my philosophy that it's never too soon to panic, I decided that I would learn sign language, and fast.

I would find the best school for the deaf, and Jake would be a star on its baseball team.

I would immerse myself in whatever world he chose.

Filled with concern, I made my way back to the nursery to speak with an expert. I inquired about the hearing test.

Seems that all of Jake's screaming had made it nearly impossible to conduct an efficient examination. He was re-tested in the morning, and the results were good.

Never mind.

Since the day of his birth, I've often thought of myself as incredibly, and undeservedly, blessed; I don't merit a son as wonderful as Jake, but I'm incredibly lucky to be his dad.

Son No. 2 arrived a week ago today, six weeks early and in for a good stretch in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at Women & Babies Hospital under the guidance of the angels there who pose as nurses.

In my mind, I can hear my parents telling me to count my blessings; I don't think I can count that high. (And that's not just because I'm a journalist.)

Before Cooper's arrival, I had this concern: I wasn't sure (and my wife agreed) that it was possible to love anything more than we love Jake, he of the angry, reddish-purple fists.

But my mother reassured me, as she has my four sisters and my brother, with these words: Love does not divide; it multiplies.

There have been many times when Jake, now 3, has sat between my wife Carrie and I, and we have just laughed, often at something incredibly goofy that Jake was doing.

I think of the times when he was potty training and called me into the bathroom to show me his accomplishment. He would cup his hands, point toward the bowl and say, "Ta-daaaa!" Or the time he knelt next to me, passed a little gas, then said, "I (tooted) on you," or the many times he called his beloved cousins "galickalees" (for a reason unknown).

But it's more than just the laughter, I know. My wife and I can't believe we had a part in creating such wonderful little dudes, and we can't believe how, so far, Jake has developed a personality so independent of ours, but with so many similarities to our own.

•••

Which all brings me to this.

On this most recent Father's Day, I started wondering why we don't have a day that simply celebrates children.

OK, I know what you're saying. Every day is Children's Day. Isn't Christmas Day child-centered? Isn't Halloween child-centered?

But my vision of a Children's Day (there have been efforts to start one in the past) involves no toys, no costumes, no cards, no candy.

It would involve (please don't call me a weenie) hugs, and plenty of explanations of why we love our children so much.

I have worked in this newsroom for almost 20 years. In that time, I've read countless stories of parents who either didn't love their children enough or at all; of children who died at the hands of the careless, the stupid and the evil.

So I want a day when we remind ourselves, and our children, just how lucky, how blessed, we feel to have them.

In a sense, Children's Day would be as much a celebration of children as  parents, and a celebration of all those people who protect and care for them.

Certainly, though, I don't need any recognition for being Jake's or Cooper's Dad. Simply put, I just couldn't ask for anything more.