We were like shell-shocked war victims when we brought Cale home from the hospital this time. We knew we had just landed in an unknown land and we didn't' speak or understand the language. One of my deep, unspoken fears was that someone within our family would somehow see Cale as "less" and treat him as such. I knew his worth whatever his condition but I just didn't think everyone would. I could never stand the idea that anything he might be would not be honored in the same way that his sisters were. I worried that his cousins, grandparents and even sisters might treat him differently. I did a lot of praying in those first few days of this new life. I was angry with anyone who had a child that was "normal". I was angry with anyone who felt sorry for me and I was angry with God who seemed to not be paying attention when this stroke affected my Cale. I still prayed but the relationship was strained. I honored my Father in prayer as I had been taught to but my heart still held back my anger. I went through the motions in my life. I took care of my girls and my boy, went to PTA meetings where caring people told me how they knew if anyone could handle this new side of my life- I could. I kept thinking, 'do I have a choice?' I think in most circumstances the ability to deal with most things is in us all. It is just that we don't think we can do things until there is no choice.

Cale went to therapy, took his daily shots, smiled at us and grew. Still, I didn't know if he really understood us as his family. Looking back, I am sure he did. But then, I trusted nothing. The things I could count on had been taken away. I kept asking the neurologist what the future would be like for Cale and his answer was always, "I can't predict the future." I finally said, "Give me an educated guess." Still, no one had answers. After four months of steroid shots and a little baby that weighed thirty pounds, had hair all over him and panted when he breathed, the seizures continued. We began to wean him off the drugs as directed by the doctor. The withdrawal made him very ill and unhappy. He screamed and cried. When the drugs had been stopped, we sat in the neurologist's office and I asked, "After several months of the steroids, the weight gain, immunity problems and the weaning - the seizures never have let up. They are the same or maybe worse. So why did we do this exactly?" His answer was, "Yeah, it didn't work. But the parents usually feel better that we have done something." I couldn't believe it. We had pumped steroids into my baby with all of the side effects and potential dangers to make us feel better?! You probably think that we stormed out of there and never looked back. No, remember we were in an unknown land and the only interpreter we had was this man in front of us. We came back for four more years. Usually, I carried a pharmacy book and the research I had done on other seizure medications. The doctor would take my suggestion and ask with a pen poised over his prescription pad, "How much do you think we should prescribe?" And, I'd give him my uneducated ideas. You'd also think that I'd have a problem writing that $90.00 check when I left his office each time. I don't know who I was at that time who meekly went on with the process. The years and the crisis' to come would change me into a very different person.

The spinal tap revealed that Cale's injury was an old one. One doctor later explained it by saying that he had experienced a stroke "long before you knew him". He told me that it was the best time to have a stroke if you had to have one - if he had it any later in life - he would probably have died instantly. The doctor explained that his condition wasn't continuing to worsen except that we needed to control the seizures. He was put on steroid shots that were meant to coat the brain and stop or control the seizures. We had to learn to adminster the shots before we could take him home. He cried at first when we gave him a shot but soon he just grinned and laughed about it. We went home to begin living the rest of our lives. We explained to Miranda and Brandy that Cale was having seizures and he would be getting shots daily. We had a "papoose"
board to strap him down so that we could give him a shot. We strapped his head, arms and legs down while he smiled and gurgled and then we gave him the injection. It was a pitiful sight. My sweet mom would come by every morning on her way to work to help me and she cried each time. It was nearly Christmas and she would bring him one of his Christmas gifts each day to
"make him feel better".

The steroids made him gain up to 30 pounds. He was bloated and grew dark hair everywhere. He grew chest hair and hair down his back. He panted when he breathed. I couldn't find any clothes to fit him. My mom and my cousin Ann made him custom made gowns and overalls. Ann even cross-stiched his name on the overalls. I thought he looked like a minature Elvis (older Elvis - not younger). For the most part he was a jolly soul. We had been told that while he was on the mega doses of steroids that we needed to keep him home and away from other people because his immune system would be low. I opted to take him to Sunday worship service because I needed to be in church with him and trusted God to take care of him there. For four months, my mom and dad would pick up the girls for Bible class and I would bring Cale at the worship service. We came in late and left before everyone else was dismissed. In all that time, during the Winter flu months, he never even got a cold. We did therapy with him and tried to stimulate his brain. The seizures continued - they never let up, never got better. I remember praying to God that He would just let him grow up to know how much I loved him. That he would understand that if nothing else. I had seen one of my husband's friend's little girl who was severly disabled. She didn't seem to even know her mom and dad were there. I couldn't imagine how to live through that. I knew he would smile at me but I was afraid that as time went on he wouldn't be able to communicate like that. The doctors just said "we can't predict the future - we'll just have to wait and see".

It is the craziest thing but I remember being devastated that Danny wouldn't get the boy that he wanted to play football. From the time we found out that we were having a boy, Danny would talk about how he would one day watch his boy play High school football and he would be really good. Danny hadn't been allowed to play football in high school so he was excited to live it through his son. Danny is a wonderful man and he assured me that it didn't matter to him anymore, but I felt that he was going to miss out on this. In all the years to come Danny would say, "Cale is everything a son could be. I am so proud of that boy." I truly believe that who Cale is - is exactly the son Danny wanted and needed. He didn't miss out at all. He, like me was blessed.