Beating Hearts And Legacy
By Mike Freeman
I miss my birth. People say I was there. But I have no recollection. I also miss my wife's birth. I'm a robust two-year-old in Southern California when a doctor slaps her fanny in Northern California.
I explore the universe by flying my secret rocket ship disguised as an orange tree in our backyard. I discover ant hills and play with my red fire truck, which has a working hose. Sometimes, I drown ants while trying to rescue them from imaginary fires.
My wife and I got married 18 months after our first date. Our two beating hearts are now responsible for bringing seven beating hearts to this planet. I do not know how they will impact the over 8 billion beating hearts on Earth. I experience their beginning. Their contributions and endings are in the fog of the future.
Each of our three children's births is an adventure.
Beating Heart One
DeeAnn and I finalize the last details of our baby's room. We celebrate with a large pizza and look forward to a great night's sleep. Our baby is due in three weeks. It is a great plan. Our baby disagrees.
Late that night, my wife wakes up and says, "The baby is coming!"
I compassionately reply, "The baby bumped your bladder. Forget it."
Wife and baby win the argument. Our departure to the hospital reminds me of a Keystone cops movie clip.
A few hours later, our doctor says, "Congratulations! You have a conehead baby boy!"
A nurse uses a blue pullover hat to hide our son's conehead.
Another nurse lays Jay down on DeeAnn's chest. Her face is glowing with love and joy. A short while later, she turns and says," I can do this again!"
I am agast. I am just beginning to process our life transition!
Beating Heart Two
Our next baby decides to be born during the sixth month of pregnancy. DeeAnn goes on bed rest. Over the next few months, we rush to the hospital a few times, thinking today is the day. Each time we return empty-handed.
I stopped for a Carl's Jr. hamburger one day, while working. As I wait for my meal, the restaurant manager yells into the dining area, "Is Mike Freeman here?"
"Here I am," I answer.
He tells me to call my workplace. Cell phones are a few decades away.
I call my work on a landline.
They say, "Your wife is on the way to the hospital to have the baby."
I drive to the hospital like a madman. I am experiencing a horrific vision of my wife and a highway patrol officer delivering our baby on the side of the freeway.
I sprint into the hospital looking for my wife. I bounce back and forth between the emergency and delivery rooms. No DeeAnn!
I desperately call home, waking her up. She changed her mind while driving into the hospital and returned home to nap.
She left me a message at work. I start thinking about investing in walkie-talkies.
One hospital visit, our doctor proclaims, "It is time."
Our nurse checks DeeAnn and says, "It will be a while."
The doctor decides to give my wife an epidural.
DeeAnn sits up and says, "The baby is coming!"
"No way," says the nurse, "I just checked."
She checks again.
"The baby is coming!" she exclaims.
Nurses sprint down a long hallway, towing DeeAnn on a cart to the delivery room. Our doctor is putting on his garments as he runs by me.
"Put these on." He says, throwing my garments to me.
My doctor's expertise in dressing while running is impressive. I stumble down the hallway, tripping over my pants.
I careen around the corner, running into the delivery room. I begin coaching DeeAnn to take slow, deep breaths. On her third breath, our son Zack is born. Then her epidural kicks in.
Beating Heart Three
"How will our third child fit into our family?" I wonder. "There are no corners to go into. Do we evolve from a square into a pentagon?"
It is a gorgeous September Sunday morning. Early morning sunlight cascades into our hospital room. Our doctor announces that this is the day. We will have a new family member.
"There goes our relaxing football Sundays," I muse.
My wife is an avid San Diego Charger fan. We hope to watch one last game before the flurry of infant care.
My hope for watching the game evaporates. My wife is determined.
"We've got to have this baby before game time!" DeeAnn declares.
Everyone laughs. This unpredictable process takes time.
I will never understand the miracle of birth. That is God's territory. Our daughter, Hannah, quietly arrives with eyes open, minutes before kickoff. She does not want to miss the football game either!
Our three little beating hearts grow up. They make our beating hearts proud. They also provide a few near heart attacks along the journey.
Beating Hearts Four and Five
Both sons marry. They begin their families.
DeeAnn and I fly to Texas for the birth of our first grandchild. Finn, a bald bundle of boy joy, arrives. We instantly fall in love. We travel to Northern California five months later. Granddaughter Kayden makes her majestic entrance into the world and our immediate love.
We instantly start spoiling our grandkids with many gifts. We refuse to discipline them. That is the role of parents. We discover tremendous satisfaction watching our children discipline their tantruming children, changing dirty diapers, and enduring sleepless nights. Some of the words and instructions they give our grandchildren echo from our distant past. We do not say anything. We smile and leave when the chaos is overwhelming.
One week after Kayden is born, I fall down concrete stairs while hiking and break my neck. I am now a quadriplegic. Traveling with a wheelchair is a complex challenge. The only time I see our grandchildren is when they visit us.
Beating Hearts Six and Seven
Two years later, Jordan is triumphantly born. Callum makes his energetic appearance six months later. I am physically unable to attend their births, but am there spiritually and emotionally.
DeeAnn and I continue savoring our roles as parents and grandparents. We now have seven beating hearts to nurture and encourage. We thank God for the time we have to enjoy this. I can now travel to visit our children and grandchildren.
I wonder how long DeeAnn's and mine hearts will continue beating. If my wife's heart stops beating before mine, she says I am free to marry again. She doesn't mean it.
If my heart stops beating before hers, I tell her to do whatever makes her happy. I mean it.
If I am in heaven, I will joyfully wait for her and the others to join me. If in hell, I have bigger things to be concerned about. If atheists are right and I disappear into nothingness, it won't matter.
Will I leave a legacy? All the people I share my life with will either be gone before or with me. Only my children and grandchildren will know me personally in that future. Will I be that person in a photograph that future generations do not know or care about?
Do I think leaving a legacy is important? I sense it is. It seems to be the measure of a well-lived life. But how to measure it?
Poet Maya Angelou says, "Your legacy is written in the number of lives you touch, not the things you own."
I believe my best legacy is living and sharing values that encourage people to reach their full God-given potential. I want to be a contagion to everyone. What values allow me to achieve this?
DeeAnn and I work to instill the following values into our seven beating hearts:
- Perfection is not the standard.
- Everything is redeemable.
- Speak your truth and listen with the intention of being influenced.
- Embrace the ambiguity. Our life adventure unravels at its own pace.
After becoming a quadriplegic, I learn two more:
- Help others and allow them to help you.
- Be grateful for all things, all the time.
Bill Graham says, "The greatest legacy one can pass on to one's children and grandchildren is not money or material things accumulated in one's life, but rather a legacy of character."
DeeAnn’s and my legacy is living our values and the seven beating hearts we help bring into the world. Maybe one of these seven beating hearts can help influence or become the next Nelson Mandela, Mahatma Gandhi, Mother Theresa, Martin Luther King Jr., or Billy Graham.
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