Today… on Thanksgiving Day… I’m especially grateful… for…
Thirteen More Years.
Why? That’s how much MORE time we got with Shelly.
Let me explain.
A little over thirteen years ago, Shelly, approached me with tears in her eyes and said, “I love you, Kyle… can we try once more for a girl? I feel like it’s what we should do.”
After some serious prayer, I was in, and shortly after… we were pregnant… for the fifth time.
Keep in mind, we understood the risks… we were older… it had been almost six years since Ricky, the youngest of our four sons had been born… and Shelly was struggling with the pregnancy.
So, you can imagine how quickly I said, “Yes” when she called me and asked me to go with her to see the doctor for the first sonogram. “I don’t know why, but I feel like you need to be there” Shelly said.
It was the first small inclination of trouble ahead.
Then… as the doctor passed the sonogram over her tummy, the doctor said, “It looks like you have two babies in here.” “That’s not funny” I said. We already have four sons.”
Their reply was simple and blunt. “We don’t kid about things like this.”
Shelly and I looked at each other and smiled… tepidly.
But in my mind, I was reeling. “What if it’s two more boys? She’s going to kill me. She’s older… I’m older… can we even manage this?”
Without saying it, I could see it in her eyes, too… even through her “concerned” smile.
On the way home, we talked about how we had done some hard things together and how it had brought us closer and decided (TOGETHER) that THIS WOULD TOO.
Then… that night as I lay down to go to sleep, A THOUGHT – a “horrible thought” – popped into my mind.
Now, you should know that I have different types of good, bad and meaningless thoughts all the time. Usually, I simply try to put the bad ones out of my mind and usually, I simply forget. Then, I assume it’s just a random thought.
When I DON’T forget, however, I typically start to pay more attention and address the thought and “do something about it.” I firmly believe there is a higher power communicating with me and prompting me to go in different directions.
But when I got this thought… I was not only unable to forget about it, but the more I tried, the more I was convinced that the horrible thought was a premonition.
I didn’t sleep a wink that night.
What was my premonition? As bad as this sounds, it was this…
Shelly would not survive childbirth.
I know, I know. It’s horrible, it’s wacky and I felt like I was doing something wrong for even thinking that way. But I couldn’t shake it.
Then after month three of the pregnancy, Shelly was put on complete bed-rest.
Hard enough as it is, but it seemed to be a “sign” that my premonition was real. I was internally getting more and more scared.
Then… with almost six weeks left, Shelly was required to be in the Hospital full time for safety. AGAIN, to me it was an additional sign that my premonition was to become a reality.
Keep in mind, I was afraid to tell anyone – especially my wife or kids. What could I do? I had nowhere to turn. I was completely alone.
Without anyone knowing, I was deeply suffering. I could not fathom the idea of losing my sweet Shelly – the woman I love, I cherish, and had grown to love more each year.
I privately cried each night, I poured out my heart in prayer multiple times a day, I begged and pleaded that Shelly would be spared and be able to stay with me and the kids. Internally, I was a mess.
It was the most emotionally and mentally painful and taxing experience I have ever gone through. But even as I suffered, I became more convinced that I should prepare for the inevitable dreadfulness.
So, I did.
I cried, I prayed, I begged and started to come to grips with the fact that I would be left alone with my kids. I even created a written plan. Six full pages of “what I’d do” and “how I’d do it.” I mapped out a life with six kids and no Shelly.
But as part of my preparation, I also decided I would SERVE Shelly with the purest form of love I’d ever experienced. There was NO WAY she would NOT KNOW how I felt about her. I would MAKE SURE… she felt it… deeply.
On weekends our family was at the hospital almost every waking hour of the day.
I’d ask her to tell us all about stories in her life… thinking this would be the last time our kids would hear those words from her mouth. It was fun – for my kids – to hear her recount her life events. I… internally… was deeply saddened and shattered… wondering how I’d survive without her.
Each work day, I went to be with her at least twice a day. I’d get all the kids to school, head in to work, take her lunch every day (many times, showing up with puffy, tear soaked eyes- I told her it was allergies), go back to work, head home to grab the kids and then we’d ALL go and spend the rest of the day with her.
If I was to lose her, I was determined that Shelly would know and deeply FEEL my unending love for her.
As all this was happening, I noticed something about myself that I had never really noticed before.
Before this event, I was a bit, well… maybe a bit selfish. BEFORE… I’d be mad I had to go back and forth to the Hospital so much. But now, I had completely lost myself in the service of Shelly and the kids.
No longer was my life even remotely about me. It was about giving Shelly a lasting feeling that she was loved and it was about how I would “ensure” my children remembered her and knew Shelly loved them.
All the things that used to matter (I’m a bit ashamed to say this, but they were about me – selfish thoughts about my needs) no longer mattered to me. What mattered now was only Shelly and my children.
Let me give you what may appear to be a trivial example – but what may do the best job of helping you understand me before this incident.
Before this happened when I would come home to dirty dishes in the sink, I would wash them. I would do all the things that husbands who try to be helpful would do. I would help with dinner or with laundry or whatever – but basically, I was simply putting in the work and going through the motions.
Internally… I unhappily SEETHED.
“Why isn’t this done during the day” I thought. “Isn’t it Shelly’s job to get this stuff done while I’m at work?”
WHILE I was helping, I was internally mad that it wasn’t already done. I’m not proud of it, but it’s true. I was helping for all the wrong reasons – because I was “supposed to.”
But as I selflessly served Shelly and the kids, I felt a change.
I WANTED to serve Shelly and the kids. I WANTED to spend every waking minute I could with her. I WANTED to do whatever it took for her to KNOW – by my actions and feelings – that she was unconditionally loved.
I started to LOVE the act of serving shelly and the kids.
Then, a remarkable insight.
After months of silent suffering, with only about a week left before the doctors would schedule the birth of my twins, my brother Kreg, SAW something in me that made him ask me, “Dude, are you okay?”
After I answered with the obligatory, “I’m fine” he persisted. “You seem like there may be something going on with you. Seriously, are you okay?”
After I relented and FINALLY told him of my circumstances… and how long I’d suffered with this secret… he said something to me that completely changed my outlook and gave me hope.
He said, “Maybe you had this premonition because you needed to feel this pain and change something in your life. And maybe… just maybe, if you can learn the lesson you need to learn without losing Shelly, maybe you don’t have to lose her.”
I was astounded… and now filled with something I had completely lost.
I had lost HOPE that Shelly would be spared and stay with us.
But now, I was completely energized with the thoughts we had discussed.
Now, I was determined to learn all the lessons I could from the experience and KEEP Shelly and my family together. Suddenly, I was… EMPOWERED!
The night before the day of our twins birth, I didn’t sleep a wink.
I endlessly prayed Shelly would be spared. I begged and pleaded to the Almighty that I would have a second chance at becoming the kind of husband and father my family deserved.
That morning, with a few hours to spare before I had to go to the hospital, I fell to my knees AGAIN to beg and plead. Believe me, it’s not hard to beg and plead under these types of circumstances.
As I stood to go be with Shelly, I felt overwhelmingly comforted that she would be okay.
It was the most magnificent feeling I’ve ever felt.
Shelly made it through the birth just fine. My twins (one boy… and ONE GIRL… HURRAY!) are now healthy, and happy.
And as time went on… Shelly noticed.
More than a year AFTER all this happened, one day Shelly pulled me aside and looked at me real closely and said, “You’re different. Something has changed. I feel like you REALLY want to be helpful. Like you love being helpful.”
After some prodding, I finally told Shelly what had happened during her pregnancy. Not everything… but enough. Shelly teared up when she learned of my fear and suffering. I teared up because she was with me. We cried together.
But they weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of happiness for the way Heavenly Father had shaken me and got my full attention… how Heavenly Father had given me the opportunity to change the way I mentally approached serving my family… and the way Heavenly Father had given us more time with Shelly.
How much time?
Thirteen extra years.
Thirteen extra years that Shelly got to spend loving all the kids (and me.) Thirteen extra years the four older boys (and me) got to know her better and love her. And thirteen extra years that Jack and Chloe (our happy, healthy twins) got to know their mother and love her and be loved BY her.
Typically… I’m grateful on Thanksgiving. You know, Because I have SO MUCH to be grateful for.
But THIS Thanksgiving feels extra special to me. This Thanksgiving… I’m especially grateful for the gift of thirteen years.
A gift – I feel like – that Heavenly Father gave especially to my family… and ME!
Happy Thanksgiving everyone…
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