Monday, January 07, 2008

When things turn out for the good...

Back in 2004. I became the proud Father of my first baby boy.



Now, usually that line would make most people assume that this is one of the greatest accomplishments of my life. And it is, but it came after a very long, hard, and ultimately great struggle to finally hear say those words, and feel, well, good about it.




You see, even though my Son Connor was born on September 20, 2004. He wasnt able to see his older sisters face to face, or the bassinett we had set up for him until Dec. 15, 2004.




And what a Christmas present that was.




But lets go back to September 19.




We had friends over for the weekend the day of the 19th. They spent the night with their own young child, who is good friends with both of my daughters. And we all pretty much spent the day lounging around, watching movies, and letting the kids play outside. Pam was good for the most part, until the early evening, when she starting feeling slight pains in her abdomen. She thought it was nothing, maybe her body expanding for the baby. But she got very worried when she spotted. But that had happened off and on with all of our children, so we took it as a normal occurence.




Not long after that, our friends left, and we settled down for the night. It was a stressful time for us, for other reasons I might write about some other time, but I was expecting anything like what I woke to at 5 in the morning the next day.




I cant tell you how long she had been awake, but Pam finally jossled me just before five, telling me something was terribly wrong. Her pains were far worse, and she was bleeding a little too much to not be worried.




I assured her everything was going to be ok, and I called my Mother. She agreed to come over and watch my two other babies. And Pam and I went to the hospital.




Now, I have to remind you that we live in Waldorf. If anyone lives anywhere around D.C., they know Waldorf. And we had to make a drive from Waldorf...to Cheverly. Which is about an hour away, without traffic.




This was a Monday morning, right as rush hour... Yeah!




I thought during the first ten miles that we were going to be ok, and we would avoid the crush of rush hour that early in the morning. But when we hit the rt.301.5 split. I was confronted with the fact that I was going to have to break some traffic laws to get Pam to the hospital before something bad happened.




In bad, I mean the fact that Connor was not due until late November. He had another 2 1/2 months to go, at the least. The first though in the front of my mind was prayers to God to not take my Son away from me, and that a baby this early in the pregnancy would have zero chance of making it if he were born on the side of a highway.




I sometimes wonder what the people stuck in traffic were thinking seeing a minivan speed past the on the shoulder. I could have had twenty cars of Prince Georges finest behind me, and they would have followed me all the way to the hospital because I wasnt stopping. Luckily for us, not one cop was around that morning. And it allowed me to get to the hospital in just under fifty minutes. I think, I wasnt paying attention to the clock that morning, but Pam says I was moving like a bat out of hell.




As we got the hospital, I tryed to get Pam to let me take her straight to the ER, but she told me the contractions were far enough apart that we could park. So I did, but as I was looking for a wheelchair to get her in the hospital, they picked back up.




I cant remember what the receptionist was saying to me as I wheeled my Wife past her, but I dont think it was good, but she must have understood the situation, because security and hospital staff did not follow.




I got Pam to the Labor and Delivery unit as quick as any man my size could. And I told the nurses the situation. They assured me she was in the right place, and that I should go and sign her in.




I walked back past the receptionist, apologized, got my visitors pass, and proceeded to sign my wife into the hospital. I think this took, ohhh, ten minutes or so, im almost certain of this, because it was the quickest I have ever been able to sign into a hospital in my life.




I returned to the LAD unit, and went to the triage to look for Pam. As I passed the nurses station, they told me I had a boy, and I needed to go see him.




My exact words were. "What, already? Stop fucking with me"




One of the nurses giggled and said yes, my son indeed had come when I was no more than 50 yards away.




That is a thought that will stick with me for the rest of my life. Along with the sound I heard when I walked into the delivery room.




The sounds of my young, premature son attempting to breathe, and crying for life. To this day I shed tears at those sounds, as vivid now as they were that day.




I held Pams hand, and we both watched the doctors work urgently, and with great care, on our newborn son. They were very encouraging, and seemed confident that he was going to be just fine. They informed us that they needed to take him to the neo-natal unit, to work on him, because he seemed to need a little help to get stable.




Those fourty minutes felt like four days. The doctor on call came in twice to tell me everything was ok. The third time, I had been through enough, and told the doctor I needed some truth.




I guess he couldnt handle it, because another doctor came minutes later to tell me our Son was having a hard time oxygenating his body. And he was having trouble breathing. I asked the doctors if our Son was going to die. And they told me they just didnt know.




I think that was the lowest point I have ever been in my life. Pam and I sat and cried. We prayed, and we waited. It felt like the entire world was pushing against us.




After two hours, the doctors came back in to tell us that Connor was semi-stable, and that he would have a better chance to live if he was transported to the Childrens Medical Center in D.C.




Waiting for that ambulance to arrive was a horror to go through. The doctors continued to work on Connor, and at one point I was asked if I wanted a chaplain to come and baptise our son, and give him his last rights. We agreed. Pam was still having some compliactions, so they wheeled her in on her delivery bed. We all held hands with the Chaplain, and prayer for our Son.




That was the lowest I had ever been in my life.




The ambulance arrived. And I watched some of the most gentle hands work to take Connor to a better place for him. They were very calm, very confident, and very outspoken about the transport. I felt he was in better hands with these people than the Doctors who brought Connor into this world.




Forunately for me. My brother had gotten the call from my mother not long after we left Waldorf that morning. And he arrived at the hospital not even a half an hour after Connor was born. He watched them wheel Connor out of the delivery room in the incubator. He was that fast.




Noah, my brother, drove me to Childrens. We took a different route to the other hospital than the ambulance, attempting to arrive before Connor and his transport team. But neither I nor Noah knew the route well, and we got lost.




Talk about nerve racking.




We finally arrived at Childrens, and went through another grueling process of getting Connor Logan Craig signed into another hospital.




It was 40 long minutes before I was able to enter the NICU to see my baby boy.




Maybe it was for the best, because in that time, the NICU Doctors and nurses were able to get Connor stabalized, and he was finally recieving the oxygen he needed for his tiny, oh so tiny body.




His official weight at birth was given at 3' 13" ounces. He was 15 inches long, and he looked like he had been spent a month under the sun around the equator. He was tan, but in a newborn baby, thats not a good thing.




Connor spent almost three long months in the NICU, being poker and prodded, stuck and unstuck. Going two whole weeks without the presence of his parents because we both came down with the flu, and were not permitted in the NICU.




That was another long time for me, and probably for the best. Because the day finally came when we were allowed to see Connor, and I didnt even recognize my Son he had grown so much. I literally looked at the nurse and told her this wasnt my baby. To which she laughed, and assured me that it was. He was getting big, and much healthier looking. I had finally started coming out the slump I had been in for weeks.




Then the doctors wanted to have a meeting with us.




My wife, mother, and I sat down with two doctors in a small room. And listened as they explained to us that our Son had "dead zones" in his brain. And that he might not having difficulties as far as his mind would go. But that he might not ever walk. That he might have cerebral palsy. And that best case scenario, he would walk with a limp, or minor uncoordination.




I guess I was in a state of denial, because I looked directly at my mother and wife, and explained to them that Connor would not have any of these problems, "because his name is Craig" And Craigs are some tough, stubborn sons of bitches.




Sometimes its good to be stubborn, cocky, and correct.




Connor came home on December 15th, and has not looked back since. My Son, the second coming over Evil Knievel, started walking at 11 months, began speaking at 16 months, and is a complete terror to be around. Because he knows how to boss people around, and he likes to jump off the back of the couch.




Dont get me started on walking, this little man runs like the wind. No "uncoordination" whatsoever.




He is my pride.




I dont blame the Doctors for the meetings we had, where all of the worst case scenarios were spelled out. That is what they do, they have the worst task in the world of explaining to people what the trials and tribulations of life could be like. I think Doctors and Nurses are some of only people in the world who would be happy to be wrong about many things.




I also congratulate them, because if not for them. I dont know where my Son would be today. They gave him a chance at life, and I dont think he would be able to live that life without them.



Thank you.




Well, I know this is a poker blog, but seeing my Son tonight, playing, and laughing, and having fun with is Sisters and cousins. I had to write about that.






Friday, January 04, 2008

2008? WTF?

Wow, 2008. Happy New Year everyone.

So its January 4, sue me.

Happy New Years anyways.

I know I havent posted in quite some time, around seven months to be exact. Alot of things have happened in that timeframe, so many things, I dont think I would know where to start.

But we have to start somewhere, so why not on the good things of 2007. It might seem like I dont have good words to speak of in 07, but I do. So lets begin.

Family life in 07 started out fairly good. Anyone that knows me, knows that I have eight people in my household. Those lovely eight consist of My wife, three insane children, and myself. Along with my Wifes Mother, Brother, and Sister. My brother and sister in law are mentally handicapped, which presents some challenges from time to time.

It wasnt really anything ever too strenuous as far as the challenges go. But when your dealing with two adults, who legally are adults, and are the ages of 21 and 23. You tend to think that these people will be upstanding, responsible citizens. That would be the case if said individuals were up on the wisdom that a 21 and 23 year old should have, but with Linda and Robert, we have two very young, very impressionable minds.

I found out many years ago that Robert and Linda have IQ's working somewhere between the 40's and 50's. I know there are many different IQ tests out these days, but the reports I read were state issused exams, so I have to take them for a very credible opinion.

What does this mean? Well, essentially it means I am dealing with adults that walk, talk, think, and reason like pre-teens. Literally.

Linda has an obsession with boys. And not good wholesome boys, no, she enjoys the ones who take advantage of her, and I end having to confront on some matters, and even some I have had to chase away. Its only happened three times this year. But each time has been full of drama. Drama that I thought I had left behind in high school.

I dont want to go into detail on any of the situations, but lets just say, it took some intervention from outside sources to get Linda back into the swing of being a working part of this family.

Robert, well, hes Robert. Hes quiet, calm, not easily rattled. But the boy couldnt handle two tasks if you were holding his hand. He gets going, but somewhere along the way. He falls. Ive come to grips with the fact that he might always be this way, and just when I thought I was in for some nights where I would be driving around Waldorf looking for him at 3 in the morning. An intervention happened with him as well, and he made it possible.

About six months ago, maybe late Spring, early Summer. I decided to pick Robert up from work, because he was having trouble bringng himself home. Usually Robert rides the local VanGo here in Waldorf, a ride that normally should only take him an hour. Lately though, Robert was coming home at 9,10, or 11 at night, when he would get off of work at 4,5,6. And I would constantly explain to him the severity of being out late in a town like Waldorf.

Its not the worst place to live in America, but we have enough of the wrong element in this city, that Robert would eventually find himself in a situation not to his liking.

I guess his intervention was one of those situations, but luckily, it was with people whom Robert considered friendly, and people who werent aware Robert had people looking out for him.

Sorry for the history, but it was needed, back to the story.

So, I picked Robert up from work, he told me he was getting off at 4, and lo and behold, here he is about to go home at 4. Good, lets go home, dont need you walking the streets buddy. Unfortunately, I had my children with me, so my truck cab was full. So I asked Robert to sit in the back.

As we were pulling away, I drove around three young idiots going towards Safeway, and I happened to hear them say something to Robert, but thought nothing of it. As we arrived home, Robert informed me that the young men we passed had been with Robert last night, and had taken his cellphone from him.

I questioned Robert as to why his "friends" would take something from him, to which he replied. Mike took it from me, and said he wouldnt give it back until I gave him the twenty dollars I owed him. I further questioned Robert on the matter of if he did in fact owe this idiot twenty dollars. After a few questions, I was convinced Robert did not owe this man any money, and that Robert needed to retrieve his property.

I went into the house, sat down, took my shoes off. And stared at Robert. Im not sure what got into me. Maybe its the fact that I havent had a serious confrontation since my early 20's. Maybe it was the fact that I knew Robert would be too scard to get back something that belonged to him from some local bullys. Whatever it was, I asked Robert to hand me my work boots. I looked at my wife, and told her,"if you get a call from Charles County, blame it on Robert, and come bail me out".

I walked out the door to Pam hysterically asking me what I was going to do. I never answered her. I simply got into my truck, peeled ass towards Safeway, and gleefully wondered who would swing first.

I guess the situation got the best of me, because I realized almost too late that I had a knife in my pocket, and 200 in cash on me. I removed all my items, placed them in my glovebox, and when I arrived at Safeway, I saw the three young punks sitting at the cafe tables outside the store. I tossed my keys under my seat, and got out of my truck.

As I approached the three men. I noticed one was a little "older" looking than the other two, and quickly realized the man was old enough to be an uncle, possibly my father, but that might be pushing the age gap.

As I approached the table. I noticed a cellphone sitting in front of one of the boys. I immediately grabbed it to see if it was Roberts. As I was inspecting it, the youngest looking boy said that it his cellphone, and I needed to give it back. I informed him that one of them had been accused of taking Roberts cellphone from him, and I wanted it back.

His response was typical. He didnt have Roberts cellphone, He and Robert were freinds, and he would never do something like that to Robert, "because they were cool".

Ok, no problem. Ill just keep your cellphone until you give me the one that Robert owned. And I began walking towards my truck.

At this point, the boy whose cellphone I confiscated, his name was Joe I came to find out. Told me that was his cellphone, and he had no idea who took Roberts, and that he needed it back. I explained to him that I was only giving Joe his phone back when Roberts was in my hand. He again said he would never take Roberts cellphone. I calmly asked him if he knew the number of the cellphone in my hand. He said yes, and I told him, "well, call me on this one when you want to give the other one back". And I began to walk towards my truck again.

At this point. One of the other morons, his name was Derek. Told me to "hold up", and that I "cant be rolling up on someone because they supposedly took his sons cell phone".

To which I replied "fuck you, he isnt my son. Derek came back with "well, your brothers cellphone".

My retort was..."hes not my fucking brother either, so fuck you, either you give it to me now, or Ill take Joe's, and yours". At this point, I was standing directly infront of Derek, and was pretty much waiting for him to swing.

Robert finally decided to get out of the truck, and informed me that neither Joe, nor Derek had taken his cellphone, it was actually the older looking man named Mike, who had been quiet the whole time.

I looked at Mike, asked him if Robert owed him twenty dollars, to which he replied no. I then asked him to give me Roberts cellphone, and I was only asking once. The next decision I make, was not going to be good for anyone standing around that table.

Robert spoke up again, this time, pointing to Mikes belt, where he had THREE cellphones clipped. Robert pointed to a cellphone, I dont know which one exactly.

I had enough, and told Mike to give me that cellphone, the one on his right hip. He handed me the cellphone, the wrong one ofcourse. And I told him, this isnt Roberts phone. His reply was "no, thats mine". I laughed, and said "would you like me to keep your phone too". He said no, and Robert told me his phone was one of the ones on Mikes left hip. I told Mike to hand me Roberts phone. He did, I inspected it, finding it was the correct phone I was looking for.

I threw Mikes phone at him, handed Joe his. And said thank you. And walked away.

Joe actually said thank you to me. That made the whole situation turn from drama to comedy for me. And I laughed.

Phew, that was a long story. I hope you read it all. And if you made it this far, youll be happy to know that Robert has really gotten himself together since then. He trusts my advice more, he no longer stays out longer than he needs to. And when I can allow him to hang out with some "friends". He comes home when I ask. So, all is well with the in-laws.

Pam and I have been doing good lately. I havent play very much poker in the past six months or so. And I miss it.

Alot of new characters out at the games these days. Some of the regular degenerates such Travis, Keenan, Noelle, E, Pops, and Anne. And some new faces like Billy, Blevins, Jeff, Katie, Rocco, Ricky, and Andy.

Needless to say, every game is an adventure. And all the people are wonderful, and frustrating at the same time. But its something I miss. Mostly because my game is all over the place, and instead of being a regular, I have become a stranger.

Heres to 2008 being a good year for my family, my life, my poker, and everything in between.

I think my next blog will be about two movies I watched as a teenager, and had certain opinions about. Only to find myself watching them again as an adult, husband, and father, and having slightly different views.

Stay tuned, y'all.