Five Minute Friday: Grow

For only five short, bold, beautiful minutes. Unscripted and unedited. We just write without worrying if it’s just right or not.

Today's Word:  Grow
GO
I have to admit two things before I go on to "Grow".  1)  I check out Five Minute Friday's word and then think about it for a little while before I write.  2) I almost always go over 5 minutes.  The thing is that I just write as long as I feel I should give to the prompt.  Or to get my thoughts out of my head.
This prompt threw a bunch of ideas my way.  Grow from a child to an adult.  Grow in my knowledge.  Grow as a family.  Grow up.  Grow in my career.  Grow tired of the present.  I let it swirl around in my head too long today.  Now I don't know which to write about.
Instead of going "deep" into these thoughts today, I'm going to talk about my son Tyson and his growth.
August 23, 2006, Tyson and his twin Cooper were born at 27 weeks gestation.  Although Cooper was a whopping 3lb and 14 inches, Tyson was 1lb 6.8oz and 11 inches.  The same length as my size 8 shoe.  His eyes were still fused shut, his skin was paper thin.  The smallest diapers, the ones for the micro preemies, were too big for him.
Two months passed and Cooper was strong enough to go home for the first time.  Tyson struggled though.  His lungs were too weak and needed help, but the ventilator used to keep him alive broke blood vessels in his one inch lungs.  We watched him struggle to live. I  remember telling him several times it was alright if he wanted to go with God.  I told him that he didn't have to stay just for me, that if he needed to, he could give up.  He didn't listen.
Tyson was in the hospital a total of 8 months before coming home for good.  During this time, we were told he was going to die on more than one occasion, he had respiratory arrest more times than I could count on one hand, we were told he would be on a ventilator his entire life, we were told he would never be strong enough to sit let alone walk or play.  In fact, the first time they brought up a tracheotomy, our family had decided with the help of the doctors that his quality of life would be so little that we didn't want to prolong anything.  We just wanted to take him home and hold him until he passed on to the next world.
At 6 months, Tyson was trached and placed on a ventilator.  We had said "no" to begin with, but one of the doctors came to us to talk about our final decision and talked to us as a father, not a doctor.  He said that Tyson had this fight in him that he had never seen, that he should have not made it many many times before.  He said for some reason, he felt that Ty would want this chance.
We went home in April of 2007.  We went home to a private nursing staff, an office made into a hospital room, countless bins and containers containing medical supplies, ventilators, supplement  oxygen, a wheel chair, and much more.  I never wanted this, but I watched as Ty began to smile, to play with his toys in his crib, to interact with his siblings.  I watched as every person he met saw the light in him and couldn't help but be inspired.  
Slowly but surely, Tyson began doing what they said he never would.  His first word was his own name.  "Ty Ty" he would say as he looked in the mirror and pointed giggling with delight that his first friend was smiling back at him.  He'd get all his tubes and wires wrapped up around himself from rolling and creeping.  He loved sitting with his arms over the rails of his bed kicking his feet and testing his balance.  He sat for the first time unassisted at 18 months.  He crawled just shy of his second birthday.  He took his first steps just before Christmas at 2 and a half.  He started kindergarten this year.  He played flag football and scored his touchdown (even though the other team let him do it to see the enthusiastic and proud smile on his face).
Tyson's lungs grew and healed.  He weaned from the ventilator.  He stopped getting sick every few weeks.  He became energetic.  Certain medications were no longer needed.  Eventually, the trach seemed useless and doctors agreed to downsize in hopes of decannulation (permanent removal of the tube).  
4 years, 8 months, 3 weeks and 6 days ago, Tyson was given a tracheotomy tube and placed on a ventilator to save his life.  4 years, 8 months, 3 weeks, and 6 days ago, we were told it was possible that these new additional appliances to our baby could be permanent.  4 years, 8 months, 3 weeks, and 6 days ago, we never thought we would have a walking, talking, crazy, oppositional, energetic, fun, enjoyable, defiant, happy, HEALTHY Tyson.
In 3 days, Tyson is going in to the hospital for decannulation.  My little size-8-shoe-baby is now 3 feet tall and 37lbs.  His little one inch broken lungs are "betta" as he would say.  And now he has the chance to live like a normal child for once.  What amazing growth he has made so far will now be multiplied exponentially.  
And most of all, anyone who has ever heard of Tyson Zachariah Sawyer has grown to believe the unbelievable.