Pictures of Theo-past

Theobio: The right formula

When Theo was first born at thirty-five weeks he couldn’t nurse, so we switched to formula. Which meant, for the first time, Theo’s Dad would be doing the nightly feeding. Previously I had given silent moral support to Holly feeding the other four babies, but now I had to step up to the plate.
So we set the alarm and I prepared for the feeding by going to sleep. It seemed like a short time when the alarm sounded and I jumped up ready for service. Well, I eventually crawled out of bed, stumbled into the kitchen, reread the directions, hoped it was formula and not flour, or sugar, or for that matter grout, that I was mixing with . . . oh yeah, water. Then, reread . . . oh shake it. Okay ready, now I have to pick up Theo, then sit in the chair and commence.
As I fed him nightly during this time I would stare at his eyes. One time I suddenly awoke to find my head on his head and a severe pain in my neck. Theo was okay though.
It was during this time that I spent time (no, not in prayer) thinking about breast feeding and how I am so for it. I mean it has got to be unhealthy for me to be up that late, or early. It probably zapped ten years off my life. And no telling what kind of kitchen accident could have occurred. I mean I could have suddenly awakened with Theo walking down the Breaux Bridge highway, past the cocaine factory and headed to Café Des Ami.
So breast feeding is good for your babies – and their Daddies.

Theobio

Theo was born on December 11 and two weeks later we attended a Christmas party.  Unfortunately Theo had a little cold and it seemed that as the afternoon wore on his breathing became labored.  By the time we got to the party we were worried.  Fortunately the host of the party was, and still is, an outstanding Pediatrician.  We consulted with him and then drove over to his practice where he began to look at Theo and monitor his oxygen.

Theo’s oxygen was fine, but he was laboring to breath through his nose and the good Doctor was stumped.  Finally, Theo suddenly sneezed and a green missile blasted on to the Doctor’s Christmas party shirt (red and green!).  Immediately Theo began to breathe better.  I thought that’s it.  His tiny nostrils were plugged.  Then the Doctor got a tool which looked like a cross between tweezers and pliers with a ninety degree turn just before the jaws.  Very cool tool.  He retrieved the other obstruction and Theo was breathing fine.

However, his oxygen level dropped so we picked him up and walked to the ER across the parking lot.  We were received graciously and it was obvious that everyone respected and loved the Doctor and they were especially kind to Theo.  But his oxygen level checked out fine so we were in and out in five minutes.  The ER said not to worry about it and we left for the party again.  This time at the party we were greatly relieved and grateful.  We thought we were going to lose him.  Come to find out it was boogers.  And that’s why I call him Booger-Bear.

 

Beginnings

I’ll never forget when Holly and I were informed that Theo had Down Syndrome. Holly had to have amniocentesis to watch Theo’s blood, since there was a possibility that her blood cells might attack his. Earlier, in a previous pregnancy, she had to have a blood transfusion, which saved her life, but which gave her an antibody. Of course, they checked Theo for every thing else – things we were not interested in. So when it came time to hear the results of the tests for Theo, we went begrudgingly. I still remember complaining on the way.
When we had settled into the waiting room, the Doctor began his report, which I do not remember, that is until he said “. . . and he has Trisomy 21 – Down Syndrome.” I felt as if someone had just thrown a wet towel hard against my face. We were shocked, I retorted, “Are you saying that our child has Down Syndrome?” “Yes, every cell came back positive for Trisomy 21. And they didn’t train us in Med. School what to say after that.” He stood up, uttered words and walked out.
We stood up too – stunned. Holly was crying. We stumbled in a stupor through what was a hallway, but now became a maze, and then sun. Forgetting our lunch date we drove straight home – numb, not seeing, not hearing; only knowing.
We decided to tell the kids right away. So we gathered them together on the couch and broke the news. They were quick to accept it, eagerly embracing the thought of their brother with his extra chromosome.
Eventually, I wandered off into my in home office, ostensibly to work, but I just stared at the wall not able to focus, not even knowing what to think. Suddenly, a friend popped through the door and sat down. We discussed the particulars then he asked, “Have you prayed yet?” Not at ease as counselee I stammered out, “No . . . I haven’t.” So we did.
A few months later, I fought back tears, as I poured baptismal waters over my friend’s twin babies and Theophilus on the same Lord’s Day – a trinity of miracles. Ironically, he named his boy Luke.