We are a sports family. Engaged and ready to cheer on with such passion for our team- it’s what we do. As spectators it’s been football, basketball, and soccer. For the last five seasons we’ve been season ticket holders for the Bengals. We know the stats, know the plays. We love Dalton and Green. In winter it’s college basketball. It captivates us all the way through March madness. But soccer is our way of life. Our kids are on the traveling soccer teams and that means practice for someone every night of the week and games, games, and more games on the weekends. It’s a passion my husband developed in high school and one he could live since not being allowed to play football. It’s a sport that I fell in love with when Mia Hamm and the US Women’s soccer team won the World Cup. And it didn’t hurt that I adored Whitney in college who played with the boys since there was no girls team. While we always encouraged our kids to try new things we definitely didn’t hide our love for soccer. And so, they played. Marley would play, of course- it’s what we do.
When Marley came out and NICU was called in the doctors first announcement was “we are going to see how much of this we can salvage”. That was the most incomprehensible moment I think I’ve ever had in my whole life. I didn’t even know exactly what was wrong. And they didn’t either. But one thing was for sure- her green arm wasn’t normal and they were instantly preparing us for the worst. What were they assessing? The nurse trying not to alarm us covered the arm with the Duke blue towels as soon as she saw it baby laying on my chest. Aside from my quick sight of the arm no one even knew that anything was wrong let alone her arm was in trouble. Panic. Stress, I cramped. What the heck is going on. It all seemed so fast. And I was sick to my stomach. Here was this baby so tiny, my smallest baby laying there with a ton of people around her and we were just spectators. Completely in the way. I didn’t get to go to NICU to see what was going on. Russ went. I didn’t get to give any info to those ready to congratulate. There was no information to give. The docs came in to tell us they didn’t have answers and she needed to go to children’s hospital. I will never ever forget the look on my husbands face: stay with my wife or stay with my baby. It wasn’t a question but maybe more of a plea- don’t make me make me choose. Go, go I say. And they were gone. And I was left in a room with no baby, and a deflated tummy and heart.
When I made it to children’s it had been about 20 hours since I had first been admitted to the hospital myself. She had seen roughly 5 different specialists and too many doctors. That Doc that said it would only be a helper hand gave us the prognosis, without a diagnosis. I often make fun of myself- quick to show my flaws with humor. It’s all to short to be that cold serious. I was sleep deprived and trying to comprehend. I said, “how are her legs? I don’t care if she throws a softball, but she will play soccer!” I was trying to find a silver lining in this storm of a day. But in a hospital there is very little humor. And sometimes little hope. I said it later that week again, and realize that it wasn’t funny, but it wasn’t really ever meant to be. What I didn’t consider then that I do now is we are only limited by our own belief in our ability to do something. Our own mental blocks. If I can watch a TED videos where someone can do anything despite the many obstacles they face, having a hand that doesn’t work shouldn’t stop my girl. And I know it won’t as long as we don’t limit her. Or she doesn’t limit herself. I am not into softball, didn’t mention my non athletic physic, but if my girl wants to play you bet I will be the flipping mascot if I can. She will still play soccer, but only if she wants. And when someone says she won’t be goalie- I’ll say, you better believe she can.
Thank you Shaquem Griffin and the Seattle Seahawks. You may not be our team, but you have shown that you look at talent above all and are willing to support anyone with the ability to work for a position on your team. I assure you- this year we will wear your colors and cheer for you all- even if we wear our usual black and orange right beside it! Thank you.
When Marley came out and NICU was called in the doctors first announcement was “we are going to see how much of this we can salvage”. That was the most incomprehensible moment I think I’ve ever had in my whole life. I didn’t even know exactly what was wrong. And they didn’t either. But one thing was for sure- her green arm wasn’t normal and they were instantly preparing us for the worst. What were they assessing? The nurse trying not to alarm us covered the arm with the Duke blue towels as soon as she saw it baby laying on my chest. Aside from my quick sight of the arm no one even knew that anything was wrong let alone her arm was in trouble. Panic. Stress, I cramped. What the heck is going on. It all seemed so fast. And I was sick to my stomach. Here was this baby so tiny, my smallest baby laying there with a ton of people around her and we were just spectators. Completely in the way. I didn’t get to go to NICU to see what was going on. Russ went. I didn’t get to give any info to those ready to congratulate. There was no information to give. The docs came in to tell us they didn’t have answers and she needed to go to children’s hospital. I will never ever forget the look on my husbands face: stay with my wife or stay with my baby. It wasn’t a question but maybe more of a plea- don’t make me make me choose. Go, go I say. And they were gone. And I was left in a room with no baby, and a deflated tummy and heart.
When I made it to children’s it had been about 20 hours since I had first been admitted to the hospital myself. She had seen roughly 5 different specialists and too many doctors. That Doc that said it would only be a helper hand gave us the prognosis, without a diagnosis. I often make fun of myself- quick to show my flaws with humor. It’s all to short to be that cold serious. I was sleep deprived and trying to comprehend. I said, “how are her legs? I don’t care if she throws a softball, but she will play soccer!” I was trying to find a silver lining in this storm of a day. But in a hospital there is very little humor. And sometimes little hope. I said it later that week again, and realize that it wasn’t funny, but it wasn’t really ever meant to be. What I didn’t consider then that I do now is we are only limited by our own belief in our ability to do something. Our own mental blocks. If I can watch a TED videos where someone can do anything despite the many obstacles they face, having a hand that doesn’t work shouldn’t stop my girl. And I know it won’t as long as we don’t limit her. Or she doesn’t limit herself. I am not into softball, didn’t mention my non athletic physic, but if my girl wants to play you bet I will be the flipping mascot if I can. She will still play soccer, but only if she wants. And when someone says she won’t be goalie- I’ll say, you better believe she can.
Thank you Shaquem Griffin and the Seattle Seahawks. You may not be our team, but you have shown that you look at talent above all and are willing to support anyone with the ability to work for a position on your team. I assure you- this year we will wear your colors and cheer for you all- even if we wear our usual black and orange right beside it! Thank you.
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