 |
|
 |
Mi
Vida... My
Life.
About
a year
before
David
was
born,
Mabel
and
I were
in
a restaurant.
A few
tables
down,
there
was
a mother
with
her
young
child.
Probably
about
3 or
4 years
old.
When
we
got
there
they
were
eating
quietly.
About
5 minutes
later
her
child
had
to
go
to
the
bathroom,
but
the
way
she
addressed
her
wittle
one
stuck
in
my
head.
She
called
her "Mi
Vida" (My
Life).
When
she
said
it,
I noticed.
Never
heard
that
statement
before
referring
to
people.
Growing
up
in
a working
class,
it
usually
came
from
co-workers
complaining
about
their
back
breaking
and
cursed
lives.
At
the
time
I remember
thinking,
WOW
she
really
adores
her
wittle
one.
|
|
Now
I've always
loved children,
I even remember
changing
my younger
brother's
diapers,
so it was
easy to
become googly-eyed
over David.
It's
only natural
to love
ones' kids,
but with
careers
and expenses
we sometimes
can't stop
to enjoy
all the
subtle
phases
of
child
development.
So David's
first
6 normal
months
flew by
in such
a blur.
Inbetween,
there
were regular
pediatric
visits,
first
5 vaccine
shots,
middle-of-the-night
feeding
times, late
work
nights,
and
new
child
care.
When
David was
3 months
old, Mabel
were back
to work
and her
mother
Naty stayed
with him
during
the day.
Besides
getting
her settled
into our
apartment
and lives
we began
house hunting.
At that
point we
lived in
a 2 bedroom
apartment
and we
shared our
bedroom
with David.
We wanted
him to
have
his own
wittle
space.
|
|
(ABOVE; David and his dada posing in one of the Beardsley Zoo cutouts.) |
(ABOVE;
David and his
dada going over
some sitting exercises
and positions.) |
 |
From
David's
6th
month,
is
when
I
began
to
take
notice.
As
his
medical
problems
began and
his
situation
complicated,
the
bond
grew.
With
each of
the IVs,
bloodwithdrals,
sour
medications,
and overnight
bed stays
came an
emotional
drain.
Any
pain
David
felt
physically,
was emotionally
magnified
in us.
We
also understood
that
when
he
was
on
heavy
medication
the
first
few initial
months
(12-15
months
of
age)
that
he was
slightly
sedated
and probably
felt
minor
pain,
but it
was very
tough
to see
a wittle
suffer
so.
Clearly
he wasn't
comfortable
at that
time,
feeling
restless,
itchy,
thristy,
and
with
little
or
no
appetite.
|
|
I
have
to also
mention
the
mommy
factor.
I
feel
that
Mabel
basically
saved
David's
life.
As
a
daddy,
I
would've
tried
my
best
to
get
David
the
proper
specialists
and doctors,
but
being
a
nurse-and
from
the
health
industry-Mabel
was
better
able
to focus
our efforts.
As
a RN,
Mabel
knew
more
of
David's
proposed
medications
and
their
side
effects.
She
had
actual
first-hand
accounts
of
these
meds
and their
drawbacks.
She
knew
of
neurological
specialists
and
successful
practices
in
her
field.
Her
schedule,
working
longer
shifts
to
total
less
days,
left
more
full
days
to
reserach
and
meet
the
doctors.
Her
insurance
gave
us
a
broader
network
of
doctors.
Looking
back,
it
was
definitely
a
joint
effort
to
get
through
the
last
year
and
a
half.
It
was
always
about
David,
but
parents
usually
need
each
other
to
feed
off
of
and remain
positive.
Especially
when
doctors
speak
about
technicalities
and
harsh
facts. True the body has limits, but its healing power can be what you make it.
|
|
(ABOVE; David not wanting to go to bed.) |
|
With
each passing
day, I thank
god for truly
blessing me/us
with such a
beautiful and
wonderful wittle
boy. He has
changed my life
and all those
around him.
Before him I
didn't know what
it meant to
live or truly
love. David
is my every
breath,
my love...
and
my life. |
|
|
|
|
|
l 
