Riding Shotgun...

I've delayed writing this for two weeks now, as it's hard to put it all into words and the details are still falling out around us.  Saturday, February 15th, we watched Youngest celebrate a 2nd place win in the D3 South Section Regional wrestling tournament. We watched every second of his matches with extensive scrutiny making sure every nuisance was caught indicating something was going horribly wrong for reasons that NO PARENT EVER wants to.

Because 12 hours earlier, he had to cut his own seat belt and crawl out of this car.

He had been home, had a bit to eat, and had fianally decided on a College. We discussed his decision a bit, and agreed it was the best place for him regardless of it being 2 hours away.  He was headed out back to the high school to watch the basketball game and would be home early as he knew he had an early bus for wrestling in the morning.  He left, we went to our Valentine's dinner, and promptly after I settled in at home in my jammies, I got a phone call.  

"Mom, something's wrong with the car.  I can't get it started."

I threw on my pants, and headed out to pick him up.  Apparently a friend had called to see if he had wanted to grab dinner, so last minute, he changed his plans form being 5 miles away to meeting up at a restaurant 40 minutes from our house.  Normally not a big deal, until this night.  As the phone calls came in, the story got bigger and bigger.  I arrived at the ER just in time to watch him be wheeled in front of me on a gurney in a cervical collar for extensive tests. The story that started out with being broken down on the highway got worse with every person that came in the room. 

The whole story is this: He'd been sick all last week but was feeling better. He met up with a friend last minute to grab a burger and fries since he was underweight, and was coming home WAY before he needed to (8pm) because he was tired. He closed his eyes for a split second on the highway, a head bob if you will, and realized he had drifted into the other lane.  He overcorrected, went off the side, hit the trees, and rolled the car onto the driver's side. The impact of the crash held him in his seatbelt so securely that the lumbar support in the seatback burst and blew out the side seams of the seat's upholstery.  He couldn't start the car because it was wedged onto the driver's side between the embankment and the trees.  He couldn't see anything through the windshield because the bumper, grill, and the rest of the front of the car was hanging in front of it. The side curtain air bags deployed, protecting his head from hitting the side window.  The front airbags did not deploy so he was able to open the glovebox.  As things fell everywhere, a butane lighter (always the Boy Scout) literally fell into his lap. He used it to cut through his seat belt. By the time the paramedics and police had arrived, they were able to smash the back window and he could crawl out unassisted.

Without. A. Single. Scratch.

He was not drunk or impaired.  He was not speeding. It was not 2 am, and he was not on the phone. He was TIRED.  How many times we go on auto pilot and have no idea how we've gotten to an exit or even all the way home? How often have we all just pushed through when deep down we know we shouldn't? I had no idea that when he walked out the door that I could have never heard his voice again. That I was so close to never hugging him again, or giving him crap about using the blender at 5 AM.

The hospital ran extensive tests, and we stayed for extra tests/ reassurance that at that point he was completely fine before we took him home. We arrived home around 1:30 in the morning.  The bus was leaving the school at 6:45. He slept next to me, getting about 4 hours of sleep, interrupted after 2 hours to check on him.  The decision to allow him on the mat to wrestle, while heavily weighed in on by us, was mostly made by him since he was one month from his 18th birthday. I had to trust that he could make this decision for himself, becasue in just a few short months he will be two hours from home having to make big decisions for himself when we are not there to weigh in.  He had drilled with his team for an hour or so before and felt okay. He assured us he'd be fine. 

His first match was much harder than it should have been., and thirty seconds in I had to walk away, leaving him under the scrutiny of the husband's watchful eyes.  His second match was far less stressful as he pinned his opponent in 27 seconds.  As the radioactive dye from the CT scan he'd had just hours earlier worked it's way through his system, I could see his color returning, his energy replenish, and he was a bit more like himself.  His third match was over in the second period, technical, but safely wrestled. His last match of the day was hard fought, and lost by 2 points. He placed second overall, SECOND. On four hours of sleep, straight out of a car crash.

We continued to celebrate his win throughout the week  by moving his bed upstairs, 15 feet from ours to check on him throughout the night. We ensured that his appetite continued to be strong, that he didn't spike a fever, and that he wasn't showing any signs of residual trauma. Throughout the week he had some ups and downs, and by Friday he was back on the mat wrestling for the State Championship.  He won one, but lost two, and that was the end of it.  As he left the mat for the last time you can tell he was heartbroken. Despite the comeback over the last month, he had wanted to go to All States again this year.  To finish as stong on the mat as he felt on the inside.

But just like that, it was over.  Like the bank of trees that abruptly stopped the car, the loss on the mat abruptly stopped the last four years of his training, routine, and dreams. The loss has obviously been magnified by not having a car and still being on concussion watch.  It's been a bit bumpy to say the least.  The girlfriend/not girlfriend from whom he was taking a break has circled back around having heard about his accident. We see her more now than when they were dating. He went to his Club wrestling coach to check in and say his goodbyes.  He's upped his work schedule and is trying new gyms to find a new routine.  And while he's agreed that now might not be the best time to be taking head shots in MMA or Boxing, he's been walking around of late like he's indestructible. Which, for his step father and I has been less than easy to swallow. Our trauma from the fall out of it all, coupled with his attitude of it being no big deal, has had us at each other's throats. 

Last night the girlfriend/not girlfriend was over watching a movie.  She left about 9:30, and I asked if she was okay to drive home.  He said yes, she was fine, yawned and headed to bed.  This morning I hear a weird noise from the other room, he's on the phone with her, woken her up in fact. 

"Who is that?"

"I woke her up.  She didn't text me when she got home.  And I called her twice and she didn't answer."

"And now you, and everyone you know, is paranoid about driving tired."

"Yup."

It's sinking in, penetrating the indestructible shield that is the seventeen year old armor.  Welcome kiddo to a fraction of how I feel every time you leave the house.  Or, miss curfew by even 5 minutes.  Or, get behind the wheel again to go to work just seven miles away.

And pray he has his angels riding shotgun.

Crossroads...

It's 7:30 and you've already gone to bed.

Well, you went to bed with your headphones, phone, and a bowl of popcorn so it's unlikely you'll actually be sleeping for a bit.  And why would you?  Sleep, I mean?  So many things weighing down on you like the heavens on Atlas.  So many lasts, and firsts, crammed on a train heading straight for you on the tracks.

It's the end of wrestling season. Four years of training, drilling, routine is abruptly coming to an end. Coach handed out the new starter jackets today.  Most would be thrilled to not have to wear the old ripped worn through ones, but not you.  For you it's comfortable and  familiar. I mended it for you from the brink of disaster with love so you could wear it with pride, hood down so you're a part of something, hood up for game on.  And yet, as we approach sectionals and the biggest competition, the last competitions of your high school years, you're being told to turn it in and wear the new one. The new, crisp, cold one. You want to forget that one at home Saturday, and I understand your defiance and secretly, I celebrate it.

The school verdicts are in. Just to complicate things we asked for more money, and they both met the need.  How can you compare two things that are not in any way the same?  How do you chose when the level playing field is full of divots and sand traps?

The first is offering an undergrad degree, with a major leaving you fully qualified for your doctorate later in life, and also allows time and availability for your minor.  They have an expansive gym. A D3 wrestling team that you can drill with at your leisure and watch compete if you ever miss it.  They have an Olympic sized swimming pool for you to swim in all but 2 hours a day, and intermural and club sports in every area you've ever wanted to try.  The food is phenomenal with nutritional labels on everything so you can calculate your intakes and gains. The laundry is free.  And the cost makes it almost irresistible, with all four years coming in at roughly the cost of a brand new high end car. This was your choice two days ago.  The money sealed it for you.  Until the other school called with a counteroffer.

They offered you free housing for the first year in addition to double the aid package they originally offered. This school has the name, access to the best hospitals in the country for your clinicals, and offer a pathway with aid to your doctorate. The program eliminates the unnecessary classes and dives right into your field of study, getting you through your undergrad in 3 years.  The draw of the city is mostly what you love and secretly, the closer proximity to home.  I can see it in you that the two hour drive home weighs on you.

I saw you shut down today. I know it's overwhelming, scary, and hard.  But I am confident you'll make the best choice for you.  That the school that appeals to your heart, soul, and mind will ultimately win out. Deep down, you know what school it is, you're just not ready. I get it, and you should know you are not the only one who wants to slow time down and just get through one weekend at a time.  You are not alone in this. I am overwhelmed too, just sitting here in power save mode for you to make your next move.

It all seems unfair to be at this crossroad just a month shy of your eighteenth birthday.  Such a huge milestone burdened with letting go of the past, and stepping into the uncertainty of the rest of your life. While I'd like it to be more coherent, it's understandable why your thoughts and concerns come out in one big mumble, why you can't make small conversation in the car, won't sit still long enough for the anxiety to creep in, and take the BIG bowl of popcorn into your room.  You are my son after all.

But you've got this.

I believe in you.

There is no wrong choice,

because it's your choice.

Youngest...

I was in labor with you for 2 weeks.  Two weeks of contractions, 20 minutes apart, like clockwork.  I was in labor for so long, that on the date you were supposed to be born, no one believed the contractions would get closer together.  Your father went to work.  Grammie came over to visit, never suspecting she'd have to stay with your brother overnight until you arrived.

Once labor really got going it took 27 hours. TWENTY. SEVEN.  I started progressing along and to ease pain I tried the whirlpool tub which apparently you loved, because once in the tub everything all but stopped completely. They tried medication to get it going again to no avail, and eventually broke my water.  Which of course, you wanted no part of, so you sat on your umbilical cord.  They had to artificially pump water back in to float you back up.  At one point they thought you were in distress so they wheeled me into the C-section room, only to have you rebound to a healthy stat. The  suddenly you weren't.  Then you were. Then you weren't. Then you were. By the third time they stopped wheeling me in and out of the room and just gave in. And in the twenty-seventh hour you were born in the operating room, naturally, on your own terms.

Not a minute before, exactly the way YOU wanted to come into the world.

I had no idea that this would be the dance we would do for the next eighteen years.

And oh, what a dance it has been.

I'm a terrible dancer by the way, but we have learned together the hard way.  Sometimes we came together like a beautiful waltz, you give a bit, I give a bit, gliding our way into the next adventure.  Other times it's resembled a perfectly choreographed Irish line dance, abrupt and sharp, but coming together in the end leaving everyone speechless.  But most often it's been like a mash up of classical and slash metal head banging, with a bit of crowd surfing and Macarena.

I always said God makes the tough ones cute so you don't kill them.  And Lord help me if you weren't the cutest toddler ever, like Gerber baby cute. You truly were, and are, the best combination of myself and your father.  You have his Italian looks, charisma, and compassion for the most unique of people. I know you don't remember a lot about him, and sadly there are not many people who can tell you good things. Having self medicated his bipolar and manic depression with alcohol and drugs since he was 12, it had left him a vague resemblance of the boy I met at 15, much less the father he aspired to be.  Much of this had to do with the environment he was raised in, a stark contrast to how you were raised.

Nature vs Nurture.  We have academically argued this for years, you and I.  And while I hear your general option on it, you will never understand my view, because YOU my son are all the proof I need.  Biologically you are half of your father, and yet, you've learned coping skills to handle your anger.  You have safe outlets for your frustration.  You feed your body the healthiest choices to improve your mind and body.  You push your limits and exceed expectations Every. Single. Time. Everything in your nature says you should be just like him, but you are not.  You are so much better than he or I could have ever imagined.

You are like lightning in a bottle, mesmerizing and fragile. Determined.  Loyal. Empathetic. Truthful. Loving. Protective. Your intellect is superior.  Your ability to grasp concepts that elude most is sheer brilliance. When you live your truth you always find your way away from the dark side.  And that buddy, is what I cling to when I see you struggle.

It's no secret that we've had a tough time lately.  Senior year is full of all kinds of crazy. Your bonus brother moved in this year, and moved back out.  Your brother started college, and while you'll never admit it, I know you saw his struggle.  He was ready for school, ready to move out, and yet you saw the transition, the struggle of being away, and somewhere in you, you know you will have to go through that too.  Your relationship of the last 4 months didn't work out, and yet you managed to not circle the drain like the last time. It's proof that you can heal yourself by yourself, no matter how deep the wound.  You're a captain on the wrestling team this year, ranked 13th in the state, and are currently 26/6 for the season. That's a lot of pressure to preform and still be an example to a team of 80+ kids. You're tough on the team so they will get better, and you have done an amazing job at developing the thick skin that you need to survive it. And despite the fact that the paper never gets your name right, that you were recognized incorrectly at the All Star banquet, and still don't have your name on the wall from last year's success, you still show up, determined to not let anyone count you out. You've been accepted to both your top choices of colleges, and now decisions need to be made. And still, with all this going on, you made straight A's last term, only missing it again by 1.6 points in honors Calculus. Seriously kid, you amaze us all.

Tomorrow we are venturing 3 hours away to your top choice of colleges.  We will sit with guidance and determine your best pathway towards the career you want. I truly believe that not getting into their direct program, while disappointing, was the best for you.  You can attend college and experience it all without the pressure of preforming in the direct program, while still getting all the benefits of one of the top programs in the state in your field.  It will leave you open to pursue your masters anywhere, not just there.  And it will allow you to study in the minor you want, opening you to so many more possibilities for employment.  Their school mantra embraces the whole person and I know you will excel there, and with a 50 acre wildlife preserve off campus to get away from everything, I know you will have access to everything you need.

Except us.

Being 3 hours away, with no quick way home leaves it all on you buddy.  You will have to recognize when your anxiety spikes, when you need a break, when you want to punch the wall but can't.  You will have to seek out peer groups, professional therapy if you need it, and work out a regimen that keeps you healthy, mind, body, and soul. This is where I know you will be most at home, if you follow your truth, and build wisely on the foundation we've built together.

Your second choice of schools we will revisit in 2 weeks and meet with financial aid. They have given you double the aid they originally did when they accepted you in November, becasue they really want you there.  You campus there is the city and all the adventure that it holds. The education is superior, your clinical classes can be done at the top hospitals, and the support that the school lacks can be compensated by the fact that several friends will be in the collegiate with you, including your brother.  You are only 45 minutes away, easily accessible by train. This is what you're step dad wants for you.  A support system in place, a quick trip home to see the dog, and a solid education with a direct pathway towards your career and Masters.

It's a lot for you, and in truth a lot for me.  We have danced together for so long now it's hard to imagine that I'll have to find a new partner soon.  But I have faith in you, and have to never count you down.  And whatever choices you make, know that I will always be there in the back of the room, as you take the stage for the biggest and most amazing performance of your life. And if you ever forget the steps, or fall off the stage, know that I will be there ready to learn an entirely different dance for you.

XOXO

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