The Tower
Less than 24 hours before we were supposed to close on our house, I got a call that something didn’t go through with the paperwork and the closing had to be postponed. Our rental house was empty and we fit everything into storage. The plan was we would close, get the keys and start moving in, but now we had no idea how long it would be until we closed and we didn’t have a place to stay.
We being my wife and I, our 8 month old son, 3 cats and a dog. My mother in-law was gracious enough to let us stay with her for a few days, until everything was sorted out. But the days turned to a week, and another week, and instead of spending my Spring Break unpacking and decorating our new house, I slept on the floor in a cramped bedroom with my wife, son and all our animals. Once my cat even ran across my face as I slept and left a scratch on my lip.
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A month later, after having to commute 2 hours a day and only having a week’s worth of clothes to reuse, we were finally able to close on the house. It was supposed to be exciting, we were supposed to be happy and celebrate. When we got the first closing date we had everything planned out and the timing was perfect. But when the date was pushed back again and again, we were crestfallen and our joy continued to decline. By the time we did move in, it was less excitement and more abated relief. Like when you’ve been on a 12 hour road trip and you’re just ready to get out of the car.
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We adjusted quickly and moved in. The house was new so there were no updates or appliances needed. The backyard was a dream, huge, mostly flat so the possibilities were endless. I build a shed, I put up shelving in the garage, I planted a garden. I had a canopy I could put up and I brewed beer outside. My son could run and play all over the yard while I sat and BBQed. From our vantage point there were no trees so the sky was open in all directions. We could watch storms glide in on their grey chariots, I could watch the moon either high over head or dipping to the horizon with sparkling planets in tow. We were far enough away from the city I could look through a telescope and see the rings of Saturn or the moons surrounding Jupiter. Every 4th of July and New Year’s the sky lit up with a myriad of fireworks, and from the second story we could see them pop in all directions for hours.
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It was 20 minutes to my new job. I could ride my motorcycle down some oak canopied back roads and avoid all traffic. We had nice neighbors, a decent community pool and a playground within walking distance. We were close to all the amenities you could have in a city but far enough away from the headaches a city brings. I remember coming home one day and before I opened my door I had this feeling like everything was right, like where I was in my life, in my career, in my family, everything fit.
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My son was getting older and my wife and I wanted him to have a sibling, so we decided to start trying. I wanted a daughter for our first child, but I got an awesome son. We heard all sorts of horror stories about children and parent hood, but none of then came true. I still wanted a daughter, so a little less than a year after we moved in we found out we were pregnant and I held my breath for a daughter.
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Then the day came for the 20 week ultrasound. The fuzzy black and white image of our new child appeared on the screen and after a few minutes the nurse asked if we wanted to know. She said it was a girl and I felt even more accomplished, like things were continuing to fall into place. I immediately made some phone calls, sent some texts, started telling people I was going to have a daughter. Then the doctor came in…
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We found out her heart wasn’t working right. Blood was not being pumped to her lungs. Our daughter had no idea, but when she was born and she took her first breath, her heart wouldn’t be able to oxygenate her blood and she would turn blue, and die.
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The doctor told us options, made suggestions, but said we needed to make a decision soon. Others would review the ultrasound for second opinions, but even the best case scenario she was facing multiple surgeries. Worst case she wouldn’t make it post utero.
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The doctor left us alone in the room, the blank black screen turned off where moments before the hopeful image of my daughter kicked and squirmed. There was nothing the feeling could be compared to; finding out you were going to have a daughter, and then being told she would probably die.
We had a follow up later. That’s when they told us there was a good chance she would survive, but surgeries were needed. I had lived a life of barely using my insurance for being sick or any other medical bills. But before my daughter was born, we met our deductible, and then hit our maximum and then some. Consultations and surgeries were soon to come, let alone the costs of a basic childbirth and the cost of raising a second child.
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Once we realized she would survive and before she was born, we decided we would have to sell our house and it was on the market two months after she was born. To lighten our load, we sold as much as we could and gave the rest away. I sold my bike and dug up my garden. We threw everything else in a storage unit except for our clothes and moved back in with my mother in-law. At least this time my wife and I would have our own room and so would our kids. The process of selling was just as stressful as buying. There was paperwork, false hope when someone made an offer then backed out, and money being spent on a place we didn’t even live in anymore.
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Eventually it sold, 4 months after it was put on the market. Just like when we moved in, there was no celebration when we moved out, no joy, but also no sadness, just a relief that overshadowed any regret.
My daughter may never know or understand the sacrifices we went through for her, but I guess that’s the lesson of parenting: sacrificing the things you love and dream of, so at least your children can be comfortable, healthy, and alive. My son too may never understand our sacrifice for his sister, but at least to him every new place is a new adventure. I wonder if he misses our first house, if somewhere in his dreams he remembers running in our back yard, sitting with me as I BBQ, or running up the stairs to his room full of toys. I hope for him at least, that’s how he remembers our house.
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