Dear My Wesley,

Dear My Wesley,

Your 15^th birthday was Tuesday, April 21st.

You had your day planned out.

Driver’s permit in the morning,

school in the afternoon

(although you had tried to talk me out of it for your birthday),

meeting Anna at the mall to see a movie,

dinner at Golden Corral

(your favorite restaurant since you were a toddler),

and then home in time to watch one of your favorite shows.

We spent the entire day together.

But it didn’t go exactly as planned.

And I spent the entire day learning from you…

just as I have since the day you were born.

You were born on Good Friday.

But I went into labor on Maundy Thursday.

Your dad was portraying the part of Jesus in The Last Supper play at our church that night. Not long before it started, I knew you were on your way.  Your dad loved and I still love to tell the story of me calling the church and saying,

“Send Jesus home.  I need him!”

It ended up being a very good Good Friday, indeed!

For you,

my oldest son,

entered our world.

My labor with you wasn’t exactly fun but it wasn’t horrible either but the delivery with you – well, that’s another story.  In the first hour of labor, they discovered you were in the wrong position – you were OP – or looking up instead of down.  But they assured me that it shouldn’t be a problem. See, at my doctor’s appointment that very morning, they had measured and estimated your weight to be at around 8 pounds and they assured me that I was very capable of delivering an 8 pound baby – even if he was looking up.  The nurses and the doctor could not figure out why you weren’t coming even though all of the set marks to deliver were in place.  Because you were not in any kind of distress, they decided to keep letting me push for a while.  That while turned into 3 hours while the doctor took a “break.”  THREE HOURS! This was also long after the epidural had worn off and because they kept thinking I was ready to deliver, they didn’t administer anything else!  The nurse kept paging the doctor but he did not answer. She decided to page another doctor who was on call for another office.  If I had not been in so much pain and fearing the worst, it would have been quite comical.  Finally, my doctor returned and checked. He actually cursed under his breath and said “It’s too late for a C-section.  It would break his neck.”  Just the thing a woman in labor wants to hear (especially a woman whose first child was born not breathing). Your dad just kept holding my hand and praying.  We were both scared for you.

In the end, God prevailed and so did you!

With the help of some very uncomfortable forceps

to turn your head to the side,

you made your way into our world as you,

in the doctor’s words,

“CONTINUED FIGHTING HARD TO KEEP LOOKING UP.”

He said you put such force into trying to

“keep looking upward”

that he was afraid he was going to hurt you

from the pressure he had to use

(you can still see the forceps impressions on your face in this photo 
taken not long after you were born).

And that 8 pound weight estimate.

Well, it was off.

You were born weighing just

1 ounce shy of 10 pounds.

And you were 2 weeks early!

Right from the beginning, my Wesley, you always just seemed to be “looking up!”

You were such a delight as an infant. Unless you had a need, you didn’t cry much.  Don’t get me wrong.  You could cry.  And you were LOUD!  But you didn’t bother unless you really needed to.  You were such an angel baby.  Almost all of the time, you were happy, smiling, laughing, and content.  I could nurse you and put you in your crib and you would just go to sleep.  You loved to be held and cuddled but not when it was time to sleep.  When it was time to sleep, you just wanted to be put in your crib.  You slept through the night very soon and didn’t even cry when you woke up.  You would just put your little hand over and rub my face (the crib was right beside our bed).  When you succeeded in waking me up, you would break out into such a huge smile that it would make my day right at the start!

And your “looking up” has continued throughout your lifetime.

When you broke your arm at 6 yrs. old and we were waiting in the ER, you said,

“At least it’s my left arm.”

When your dad died, you, my boy, at the funeral home and with tears in your eyes said,
“At least I had him for almost 11 ½ years.  Some sons never get to know their dads at all.”

When you, my son, at that same young age, without even being asked to, stepped up to take on some of the roles your dad had filled (like taking out the trash and helping me lift heavy stuff), you said,

“It’s what I can do.  You have to do everything else. You are the foundation of our family, Mama. For us. For Maw Maw and Paw Paw. You always work through the pain.  At least I can do this.”

When marking the time since your dad’s death turned from mere minutes (and I gave you his watch right there in the hospital hallway) to days to months to years, you commented,

“At least I have his watch to take ‘his’ time along with me in mine.”

When I could only find one person willing to take you deer hunting one time this past season, you were so disappointed but you said,

“At least I got to go once.”

When you, at what age I’ll leave out, ended up not getting the girl, you said,

“She’s obviously not the one God intends for me. At least I know that now.”

When you turned into a caretaker helping me so much with your
Maw Maw and Paw Paw you said,

“At least I still get to see them every day.”

(And you, my Wesley Robert, do A LOT of work!!!!  Thank you, my son, for caring so much! 
I could never do it without you)!

So it should not have been much of a surprise to me how you handled,

with such grace,

some of the disappointment that your 15^th birthday brought.

And, even though it worked out in the end,

I want to remember and write down

the lesson you taught me yesterday

YET AGAIN

about looking up

all the way until the very end.

We arrived at the driver’s license office for you to take your test around 11:20 a.m.

You were nervous.

But you were so ready to go from the passenger seat…

…to the driver’s seat.

We didn’t have to wait long before they called your number.

You passed the sign test

and you took your seat at the computer to take the written test.

About 20 minutes later, you gave Luke and me the thumbs up sign, with a huge grin on your face, letting us know you had passed!

All that was left was to get your picture taken, which should have taken 5 minutes, and then you could drive us back home.

15 minutes later, the examiner came out and told me that the camera system was down and it would be a little bit longer.

15 more minutes went by – cameras still down.

At this point, the examiners told us it was state-wide and, if we wanted to go get some lunch, they would save our place in line because all that needed to be done was the photo.

I left it up to you.  After all, it was your birthday.

You really wanted to drive.  And I really wanted you to get your permit on your birthday.  In our state, you cannot get your driver’s license unless you’ve had your permit for 365 days.  If you didn’t get your permit on your birthday, then next year, you wouldn’t be able to get your license on your birthday.

Your huge smile had faded by this point

but your resolve sure had not.

So we waited.

And waited.

After 1½ hours, the examiners came out and told those of us still waiting that the post offices were down too so there was a good chance the systems wouldn’t come back up before the end of the business day but it was still our choice to keep waiting if we wanted.

A lot of folks left then.

You said, “You never know.  The cameras might come back up.”

So we waited some more.

The other folks and I talked of ordering a pizza.

We had not brought school stuff with us because we obviously did not plan on being there all day long and you said (with a smile),

“At least I got my birthday wish of not having to do school on my birthday.”

Luke played on the ipad.

I read my book (pretty much always have a book with me).

I also prayed quite a bit for the cameras to come back up.

You did too.

More folks left.  There were only 3 groups waiting by then.

Even though some others were being somewhat negative, you just kept saying,

“You never know.  They might come back up any minute.”

Once you said, “They have to come back up sometime, why not now?”

After 2½ hours, I knew we had to go home to check my diabetic dad’s sugar and make him an insulin shot for suppertime.  We were planning to be in a different town for a movie and dinner so we had to leave him an insulin shot to take with his supper.  The examiners promised they would save our place in line.

When we got back around 3 p.m., there was only 1 person still waiting it out.

So we started waiting some more.

We called Anna to tell her that our plans were changing and to just keep in touch with us about what we were going to do. She said that, since we weren’t going to be there in time for our original plans, she would go ahead and take a Math test that she needed to take.

(She passed – which is another answer to prayer)!

We talked about whether you want to be an organ donor or not. I reminded you that I am an organ donor and your dad was one (long story of how that didn’t work out, though). Turns out that you don’t put that on your permit.  It’s not asked until you get your license.  But I now know what you want and I hope and pray that I never have to use that knowledge!

We talked about how miracles still happen and there was still a chance that, even after 4 hours, that the camera system would come back up.

Things I heard you say during the day:

“It does seem to be this way with me, doesn’t it, Mama?  I seem to get all of the little pesky problems but at least it’s not anything drastic.”

“At least I know I passed the test!  If the systems had shut down before I knew and I had to wait on those results this long, that would be agony.”

“At least I had time to practice my signature.”

“Just think, Mama. If the cameras come back up today and I do get my permit, I will appreciate it SO MUCH MORE after having gone through what we went through today to get it!”

You never once wanted to give up.

And, even though it was a very long day in some pretty uncomfortable chairs, I so enjoyed going along with you for this ride.  I enjoyed watching your faith all day long.

I was so sorry that this was happening to you (and to many others across the state) on your birthday but I was thoroughly enjoying watching you keep

“looking up”

all the day long!

In so many ways, it reminded me of when I gave birth to you.

You persistently and constantly just kept “looking up!”

You just never gave up that the cameras might still come back up.

I never once asked you to leave but by 4:30 and 4½ hours of waiting, I will admit that I doubted it was going to happen that day.

At 4:35, the only other person waiting decided to call it quits.

She had been there since 15 minutes after us so she had put in almost the whole day waiting as well but she had children she had to get home to so she left.

So it was just us! 

Everyone else gave up and left.

You though, my Wesley, kept waiting for your miracle!

At 4:45 p.m., the examiner came out and told us what time we could be there the next morning and to keep our original ticket number from the day so that we could keep our place in line – they were planning on honoring the time stamps from those tickets for the day after.

I made sure the ticket was in a safe place and went back to reading my book.  I wasn’t very far in it at the beginning of the day but by then I was almost finished with it.

You actually started pacing.  No one else was waiting so I didn’t stop you.

At 4:53 p.m.,

7 minutes before closing,

and 5 ½ hours after we first got there  

one of the examiners came,

almost running,

into the waiting room and said,

“Mom, get his documents, we think it’s back up!

We’re going to try!”

You literally jumped!

And that smile –

that huge smile of yours that has been making my day since you were a baby waking me up from your crib –

came back with even more joy behind it than before!

They finished entering everything.

You chose your background.

You signed your practiced signature in the little box.

I prayed.

I snapped a photo of the clock

(of course I did –ha ha ha)!

You sat down for your photo only caring for a second that your hair was a little disheveled from waiting 5½ hours.

The camera snapped.

I held my breath as they let me watch the monitor to see if your photo would pop up.

And then,

there it was!

Your photo completed!

You would get your permit

on your 15^th birthday!

We, along with all of the examiners, were all so happy that it worked out!

We were all celebrating!

I turned around and said to all of the examiners,

“He’s the 3^rd child I’ve brought here and I have to say, I’ve never had so much fun getting a permit!” 

They laughed but said, “How in the world is waiting 5½ hours fun?”

I just said to them,

“This day with my boy was great! 

And that smile of his, well, it’s always been worth the wait!” 

To which you replied, while holding up your newly issued temporary permit,

“This was worth the wait!”

Well said, young man.

Well said!

And I snapped another photo of you AND the permit with the clock!

(Of course I did –ha ha ha)!

As we were walking out, you said,

“I never thought it wouldn’t happen, Mama,

I just knew the cameras would come back up!

Thank you for letting me wait!”

Well said, my Wesley.

Well said!

As soon as we were out of the building, you literally started jumping for joy.  As hard as I tried, I never did catch a photo of your feet clicking together like they did!

My Wesley Robert, I really cannot remember a time when I have seen you so deliriously happy.  You just could not stop smiling.  Although I had shed a few tears during the day (that’s a story for another post), I did not shed a single one while watching your celebration.  I just kept snapping photos of your joy!

When we rolled down the window (that now will not go back up – new motor ordered already – and a tarp is over the car) to get the photos of you in your car like the photos I have of your dad in the same car (which was his then), you just could hardly keep still.  But you wanted those photos as much as I did so you stayed still for a minute or two before starting to “whoop and holler” again!

Your father would be proud of you, my Wesley.

Just as he was of your sisters when they got their permits.

I wish, with all of my heart, that he could be standing in the driveway clapping and cheering while watching you drive us home like he did for your sisters.
As I’ve said before on this blog, I try not to speak for your dad.

But I can say, with 100% certainty, that he would be proud of the young man you have become!  And he would have been thrilled with the patience, faith, and excitement that you, his first son, exhibited and experienced on your 15^th birthday. 

I have no doubt! 

Although in a different order than originally planned, the rest of your birthday went pretty much like you had planned.

You drove us to meet Anna for dinner at your favorite restaurant.

You drove us to the hardware store to buy something to cover the car window that wouldn’t close.

You drove us to the mall to see the movie you wanted to see.

And we got home just in time to see the TV show you wanted to see

(but you were sad that I had to drive since it was past 9).

In all of your driving on your birthday, you did a great job and I only yelled at you once – when you were taking too long to get over into a turning lane and the truck behind us was going to hit us if you didn’t move faster!

I don’t think either one of us did that bad

but I’ll try to not yell next time! J 

My Wesley, over the course of the day on your 15^th birthday,

I silently thanked God many times that you are my son.

I am so grateful that He chose me to be your mama.

And I can certainly say that

I AM PROUD OF THE YOUNG MAN YOU ARE!

You have grown so much over your 15 years –

literally and figuratively.

You are now almost 6 feet 4 inches tall,

which surpasses me at my "a little over 6 feet."

(I’ve shrunk from my original 6’ 2”)!

I now look up to you, my son.

In more ways than you know.

My Wesley Robert, I pray so hard that you will have much joy in the rest of your years and that you will know that life is not always about the “at leasts”

but I am so proud of you for how you, almost always, instinctively find the joy and the faith in them.

For it is in finding the joy that we are truly content.

And that is what you have reminded me of

from the very beginning –

on the day of your birth,

on all of the other “at least” days,

and, most recently, while having to wait a total of 5½ hours to get your permit.

No matter how hard life has pressed in on you during your 15 years,

you,

my son,

have never let up on the counter-pressure to keep looking up.

And that has served you well in your 15 years.

I pray that never changes.

Drive Safe, Wesley Robert.
Drive Safe.

I love you!
Always have!
Always will!

Love,
Mama