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The Center of Things

I originally started my blog in June of 2016, after only three years of talking about it. One of my first posts was called “Boys, Boys, Boys.” It is a very funny story that unfortunately took place when my father was ill. While I was typing on my laptop, I inadvertently hit something that deleted a good part of my post. I was frustrated and told myself that I would get back to it. Now, if you’re a writer and this has ever happened to you, I know you understand the feeling of not wanting to go back and recreate something you already created.

Well, that was June, the months pasted. (July, August, September) and I never got back to it. My family and friends kept asking me again and again if I was writing. “I know, I’m going to.” I’d reply. (October, November, December) My fiance’ John would encourage me to write…I would say I was going to and then I wouldn’t do it. I think it was certainly the idea of recreating what I had already written, but it was more revisiting a very difficult time in my life when my dad was dying.

One day in January, my mother sent me a book called Write For Life by Sheppard B. Kominars, PhD.

Write for Life: Healing Body, Mind, & Spirit through Journal Writing by [Kominars, Sheppard B.]

As I opened the book and flipped through the pages, I found a paper tucked in the back. I unfolded the paper to reveal the title, “The Center of Things.” I read the article out loud and by the time I got to the end I was crying. The Center of Things was the column that my late Aunt Betty wrote for a New Hampshire newspaper.

I called my mother and asked her if she knew that a copy of one of Aunt Betty’s columns was tucked in the book that she gave me. My mother had no idea, in fact, my mother told me she had two copies of Write for Life. She told my sister that she could take whichever one she wanted and the one that was left was for me.

After I hung up the phone, I couldn’t stop thinking about what my mother said. How could it be that I got the copy of the book with Aunt Betty’s column in it? My Aunt Betty was an amazing person and a wonderful writer. She had a great sense of humor and it certainly came through in her writing. When I was living in North Carolina, we used to talk on the phone and we would email each other things that we each had written. Aunt Betty took such pleasure in reading my stories (and I in hers). She would tell me that I was talented and she encouraged me to write more. I love my Aunt Betty and I miss her so much. What I wouldn’t give to have that time with her back. That night, I fell asleep with thoughts of my Aunt.

I woke up and looked at the clock, 3:33 AM. I was wide awake. I tried to fall back asleep but I couldn’t. Now this may sound a bit out there to some of you, but it is said that the best time to connect with spirit is between 2 and 4 AM. This crossed my mind. Why did I suddenly wake up? I mean, I am not a light sleeper and I enjoy my sleep. If you’re thinking I’m a little off my rocker at this point, let me just go ahead and tip the rocker right over…It also hadn’t gone unnoticed to me that the numbers on the clock were 3:33. It is said that 11:11 and times with repeating numbers are angel signs, I thought.

Feeling like I was over thinking things and maybe feeling a bit crazy and unsettled, I grabbed the book my mother had sent and began to read. As I read Write for Life, I was fascinated with what it had to say about the power of writing and all of the positive affects it can have on a person’s health, well-being and life.

After I completed the first chapter I closed the book and sat in silence. It was so calm, so still and so quiet in the house this time of the morning.

I slowly opened my laptop, hit the power button, logged into my blog site, and began to write. I finished writing Boys, Boys, Boys and I wrote several more posts in the days that followed.

I have always believed that there are no coincidences in life. I also believe that my beloved Aunt Betty is always there cheering me on, encouraging me to write.

And here’s some food for thought…

Coincidence is God's way of remaining anonymous. - Albert Einstein

 

Take time to notice and even act on the coincidences that life presents, you may be surprised by the places that they lead you,

Erin Cooper Reed

 

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It’s All In The Details

When Kevin was three years old and attending preschool he was a die-hard Toy Story fan. I mean, he watched Toy Story over and over again, owned all of the action figures and talked about it incessantly. Often when the phone rang, I answered it to find yet another salesperson on the line. I would hear Kevin’s tiny voice on the other extension. While Kevin was babbling on about Buzz Lightyear, I would quietly hang up my extension and laugh to myself. After repeatedly asking to speak to an adult, to no avail, the salesperson would abruptly hang up. It didn’t take too many sales calls for Kevin to believe that these calls were for him and for me to realize that I had my own personal call-screener.

Of all the Toy Story characters, Buzz Lightyear was by far Kevin’s favorite…and why wouldn’t he be? I mean, Buzz Lightyear is cool, he is a toy space ranger and he believes that he could do anything that the “real” Buzz Lightyear in the actual movie could do…like fly and shoot lasers. Buzz Lightyear is a leader who is brave and has courage. He believes that following the rules is the way people should live. Most of all, Buzz believes in himself. Not a bad role model.

The morning of Kevin’s fourth birthday he woke to a giant painted, wooden Buzz Lightyear sign on the front lawn, that I had order for the occasion. It read “Happy 4th Birthday Kevin!” We went outside and I took some photos of Kevin standing with the sign, imitating Buzz’s position, both hands on hips. I was elated and proud of myself for renting the sign and making Kevin’s birthday special. (Add good mom props here).

It wasn’t until we went back inside that I realized that Kevin wasn’t so happy.

Me: “So buddy, do you like the sign?

Kevin: “Not really.”

Me: “Not really???  ($$$ Ugh!)

Kevin: “No.”

Me: “Why not? You have Buzz Lightyear on your front lawn?”

Kevin: (looking sad) “It’s just the colors are all wrong.”

Me: “What do you mean wrong?”

Kevin: “Well, first of all, his waist is supposed to black. The buttons on his chest are blue, green, red…

As Kevin went on, I grabbed a toy Buzz Lightyear from a nearby chair and ran to look out at the lawn sign through the front door. I’ll be damned, the kid is right.

So, what did I do? Being that this was my first-born son who was obviously upset on his 4th birthday…I did what any other red-blooded, doting, well-intentioned, frantic mother of an unhappy four-year old on his birthday, would…I called the lawn sign company. Immediately. Then I put Kevin right on the phone.

I stood in amazement (staring at the toy Buzz Lightyear in my hand) while four-year old Kevin perfectly described every detail and every color of Buzz Lightyear’s suit to the lawn sign man on the other end of the phone.

Kevin: “He wants to talk to you, Mommy.”

Lawn Sign Man: (seeming a bit nervous and certainly blown away by his conversation with a four-year old) “Hi ma’am. I don’t even know what to say. We never had a complaint like this before. I think our artist painted that sign using a Disney Burger King bag as a guide. I guess Burger King only prints their kid’s meal bags using a few colors.”

Me: (Speaking as if this is the most unjust thing I had ever experienced) “Well, I just wanted to make you aware that the colors are not right so this doesn’t happen to another child again.)

Lawn Sign Man: “I am so sorry. I’ll take care of it right away and I’ll be sure to check the authenticity of our other signs. By the way, that’s some kid that ya got there.”

Me: “I appreciate it and thank you, I know.”

In retrospect, it’s a funny story now. Especially my own reaction being what it was. If this situation had happened with my third kid, I would have been like, “Just shut up and have a cookie.”

Yet, I think that Kevin was onto something, there’s a lesson in here for all of us. It is all in the details…they matter more than you think. If you stop and pay attention to the details, in your work, your relationships and in your life, it will show in the big picture.

I’ll leave you with this quote by Sanford I. Wiell

Details create the big picture. - Sanford I. Weill

To infinity and beyond,

Erin Cooper Reed

 

 

 

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Happy April 1st! Who Even Reads A Blog Post Without A Picture Anyway?

In the spirit of April First’s unofficial, yet globally known holiday, here is my April Fools’ Day post.

I am aware that blogs that have a photo are more likely to be read. Let me just say, I couldn’t care less. The fact is, the majority of readers care more about the photo than they do about the actual article. In fact, it has been proven time and time again, that most people will hit “like” without even reading the damn post or comment without ever reading the damn article. This is actually a huge relief to me, as I can say whatever the hell I want to and no one will be the wiser. I’m totally considering confessing some of my deepest, darkest secrets right now…I mean, hell, why not?

But seriously…HAPPY APRIL FOOLS’ DAY! This is just an example of an April Fools’ Day joke that NPR played three years ago in 2014. Here is an excerpt of their prank by Jeffery Patterson of The Desert News, March 31, 2017

ENTERTAINMENT

The best April Fools’ Day pranks in history

Posted 6:00 a.m. today
Updated 6:05 a.m. today

By Jeff Peterson, Deseret News

2014: Why doesn’t America read anymore?

Proving some troubling points about the way news stories are digested these days, NPR pulled one of the great April Fools’ pranks when it posted a fake article with a headline designed to elicit a response: “Why doesn’t America read anymore?”

For anyone who took the time to click on the headline and see what the article was about, this is what they would have found:

“Congratulations, genuine readers, and happy April Fools’ Day! We sometimes get the sense that some people are commenting on NPR stories that they haven’t actually read. If you are reading this, please like this post and do not comment on it. Then let’s see what people have to say about this story. Best wishes and have an enjoyable day.”

And so, my dear readers, Congratulations and Happy April Fools’ Day from My Life I Swear! If you have read this entire blog post, please “like” but don’t comment.

Consider it an online social experiment.

Best wishes and have an enjoyable day,

Erin Cooper Reed

P.S. – Just for the hell of it, here’s your damn photo!Image result for images of tongue sticking out

 

 

 

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I Know Exactly How You Feel – The Power Of Empathy

I’m not feeling very funny today…and that’s okay. (Don’t worry, I’m sure that my sense of humor won’t be able to help but rear its sarcastic head.) Having a lot of down time (with my injured knee up) has given me time to reflect. I have spent the last two years helping my widowed mother through all kinds of ailments, most recently healing from a bad fall and prior to that, multiple hip replacements.

My mother has done, and continues to do so much for me that it is always my pleasure to give back and be there for her when she needs me. Now, my mom is one strong Polish girl! She has beaten cancer more than once, recovered from broken bones and did the hard work that it took to regain her mobility after not one, but two, hip replacements. All the while my mother remained positive, never complained and found humor during the entire process. God, I respect that about her! In fact, everyone does.

As I lie in bed writing this post, I think that now I really understand how my mom felt and some of what she had to endure.

RING

Mom: “Hello.”

Me: “Hi, Mom.”

Mom: “How are you feeling?”

Me: “Like I need a shower and I don’t know how I’m going to take one if I can’t walk or stand up. I’m miserable.”

Mom: “Remember I couldn’t take a shower right away after my hip surgery? I’ll send over my shower stool. Oh, and put a hand towel on the seat, it’s really hard plastic.”

Now, I’m thinking that I’ve got a lot more cushion on my backside than my 96 pound mother does…but mom knows best.

Me: “Okay I’ll put a hand towel on the seat. Good idea, but I don’t know how I’m going to get my leg over the side of the tub.”

Mom: “I put my good leg over first, than my bad leg second.”

Me: “Thanks mom. I love you.”

Mom: “Love you too. You can do it! Go take a shower, you’ll feel better. Good luck.”

RING

Me: “Hi, Mom.”

Mom: “How did you know it was me?”

Me: “I have caller ID Mom.”

Mom: “Oh, that’s good. How are you feeling?”

Me: “I’m in a lot of pain. Still a half an hour left until I can take my pain medication.”

Mom: “You know, you should take the pain medication fifteen minutes to half an hour before the last pill wears off, that way you won’t be in pain until the next pill kicks in.”

Me: “Wait a minute. I think I remember telling you that when you were taking pain medication for your hip.”

Advice. Easier to give then apply to one’s own situation.

Mom: “You probably did. Just try it. In fact I’ll let you go so you can take it now. Love you.”

Me: “Thanks. Love you too mom. Call you Later.”

It’s funny how all the things that my mother endured are coming back to me, yet I’m seeing them from a new perspective. Her perspective. It got me to thinking about the power of empathy and doing a little research. I came across this video on Empathy by Brene’ Brown. It’s worth the 2 minute 54 second view. (She’s funny too!)

You can also follow Brene’ on twitter:

Brené Brown (@BreneBrown) · Twitter
https://twitter.com/BreneBrown

I think my knee injury has taught me a great lesson about the power empathy. It is one thing to care about your loved ones suffering (Sympathy). It is another to feel their suffering (Empathy).

Having to deal with similar challenges in the process of healing my injury lead me to feel what it was like for my mother to overcome the same hurdles. Right now I feel closer to my mom than ever…and that’s the beauty of empathy, it breeds deeper connections.

Setbacks in life always have hidden blessings…you just have to take a moment to recognize them.

Erin Cooper Reed

 

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My Easter Shoe Shopping Bandits (Pre-Easter Antics Part 2)

On a warm, sunny April afternoon, back in 2007 (when My family and I lived in Charlotte, North Carolina) I loaded my boys into the minivan in hopes of tackling the buy one, get one half off sale at our local Payless Shoes Store. My boys went through sneakers at such a rate that taking advantage of a sale was the only way that I could keep them in shoes. Kevin was ten years old, Eric (aka Rocky) was eight and Marc had just turned five. As I write this I miss the pre Jordan and Lebron sneaker shopping days that were much easier on my wallet than they are today with a house full of picky, fashion minded teenagers.

When we arrived at Payless the parking lot was packed. Wow, this must be some sale I thought, forgetting that it was the Sunday before Easter. Once inside I noticed the store was filled with kids…little girls in their “Sunday Best”, straight from church hoping to select the perfect Easter shoes to wear on Easter Sunday. Charlotte is located in the bible belt where people take dressing up for church very seriously, I thought, but I was here on a mission to get my boys new sneakers.

Of course my excited boys went in three different directions scanning the racks of sneakers while calling out to me, “Mom, what size am I?” I struggled to help all three simultaneously, yet somehow managed to get everyone situated with a pair of sneakers to try on.

Kevin was being particularly selective as he had outgrown the appeal of the sneakers with popular Disney characters and super heroes. This was surely going to be Kevin’s last year of shopping at Payless Shoes.

As soon as I finished helping Rocky find the correct size, checking where his big toe was in his shoes and tying Marc’s sneakers, they both took off like a flash. They began running around the crowded and busy store, weaving in and out between the shoppers. I called theirs names to no avail and then resorted to chasing them both down, grabbing each one by the arm.

“Boys, you can not run around in the store!” I instructed.

“But Mom, we just wanted to see if our sneakers were fast enough…” Rocky replied.

“Well, obviously they are,” I stated. “No more running in the store. Let’s go find Kevin.”

To my surprise, Kevin had actually found a pair of sneakers that he liked and a second pair of shoes (Shoes that, unbeknownst to me, he would later glue wooden blocks onto to appear taller to a girl he liked).

Perfect, three pairs of sneakers, one pair of shoes, two pairs half price. I was aware that people were staring at us. I just wanted to get to the check out and get out of this crowded store.

The lines were long and I couldn’t wait until it was our turn to check out. Shopping with three kids was exhausting and I certainly had had enough. The boys put their shoes on the counter. Finally. It was almost over. As the cashier rang up each item, I watched to make sure the second pair of shoes rung up at half price. I paid, completed the transaction and turned to hand the boys the pile of bags.

They were nowhere in sight.

Oh God, where are they? “Kevin, Rocky, Marc!” I yelled directing everyone’s attention to me. I paused to slide my bank card into my wallet.

When I looked up, there they were. Kevin, Rocky and Marc standing at the front of the store with purses hanging on each of their bent arms and peds stockings over their heads and pulled down over their faces.

What in God’s name? They looked like they were about to rob the place. It crossed my mind to just pretend I didn’t know them…that they weren’t MY kids. Nah, too late, there wasn’t a person in the store that didn’t know that I was their mother.

I dragged an armful of bags off of the counter as I approached my boys.

“What are you doing? Take those peds off of your faces!” I demanded.

“What are peds?” Rocky inquired.

“Peds are small stockings that cover your feet so you can try on shoes if you’re not wearing any socks,” I heard myself say.

The boys stared at me as if what had I said made no sense. Never mind.

“But they’re free!” Marc blurted out.

Kevin added, “Yeah, they have little boxes of them at the end of every aisle.”

As they began taking the peds off, I noticed that not only were the purses that they were holding stuffed with peds, so were all of their pockets.

“And put ALL of those back!” I ordered as the show came to an end and the crowd of onlookers began to disperse.

When we got finally got in the car I said, “Well I guess we won’t be shopping at Payless again,” as I turned the key to the ignition.

“Thank God,” Kevin mumbled.

“Why not?” Rocky asked. “It was fun! I like that store!”

“Me too!” Marc replied.

I didn’t answer. In fact I didn’t say a word.

My Life, I swear…

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Why I Loath The Easter Bunny, Easter Baskets And Everything Pastel (Part 1)

Easter is just around the corner. I have friends that love Easter just about as much as they love Christmas. I am the polar opposite. I respect, enjoy and celebrate the religious meaning of Easter and all that it symbolizes… but I truly could do without the expensive Easter baskets full of sugary treats, the plastic toys (that only end up getting stepped on), the green Easter basket grass that can’t be vacuumed up (yet clings to everything) and the one random, colored egg that isn’t found until you open the fireplace for its seasonal debut. Oh, and did I mention that I abhor all of the decorating with pastel colors? Maybe it’s a reflection of my bold, outgoing personality but I love rich colors… pastels, not so much.

I loved Easter as a child and even as an adult, so I’m trying to pinpoint when I first started to dislike Easter. I guess it all started when Kevin was three years old and Eric (aka Rocky) was a baby. I was so excited about taking both of my adorable boys to the mall to have their photo with the Easter Bunny. For some reason the central part of the mall was under renovations that year and a trail of signs lead to the Easter Bunny’s new location in a vacant store.

As we entered through the one available door (both an entrance and an exit), I was relieved that there was no line. We were quickly greeted by one of the four assistants to the Easter Bunny. I smiled as I unbuckled Rocky from the stroller and grabbed Kevin’s hand explaining that they were going to get to meet the Easter Bunny and have their picture taken.

Kevin was so excited he climbed up the two steps that lead to the top of a small platform and sat right on the Easter Bunny’s left leg. That was easy, I thought, as I placed Rocky on the Easter Bunny’s opposite leg and moved out of the way for the photographer. As parents, we understand that with children there is only a small window of opportunity for a good photo. As parents, we also understand (but won’t openly admit) how badly we want this picture of our children to be perfect.

From where I stood on the floor, behind and to the left of the photographer, I could just tell that this was going to be one of those moments… one of those perfectly adorable shots. I secretly smiled my “victory” smile and held my breath as the photographer readied the camera. Hurry up I thought. Then I noticed Kevin looking down at the bunny’s feet, then up at his face and back down at his feet. Oh, please look at the camera, please smile, as I willed Kevin to remain still.

As the camera clicked, signaling the photo was taken, Kevin stood up and began yelling… “Wait a minute, you’re not the Easter Bunny – you’re a people!!!”

“I can see your ankles!” Kevin announced, while pointing at the exposed flesh showing from the gap in the material between the leg of the bunny’s costume and the beginning of the bunny’s feet.

“And I can see your eyes!” Kevin continued as he pointed at the bunny’s massive head and the human eyes visible behind the mask.

“You’re a people! You’re not the Easter Bunny!” Kevin bellowed, turning to address the people working there, as if they didn’t already know.

Rocky began to cry. I ran to retrieve him as I grabbed Kevin’s hand and pulled him off of the small platform. I glanced around nervously and noticed that a line was starting to form. I quickly approached the cashier and fumbled for my wallet.`

“He’s a people! He’s a people!” Kevin yelled.

“Kevin, that’s enough!” I said, “Please lower your voice.”

I grabbed my not so “perfect” Easter photo and managed to mutter an embarrassed “Thank you” to the staff as I strapped the baby in the stroller with one hand while holding onto the hand of  a flailing Kevin.

“He’s not the Easter Bunny! He’s a people!” Kevin yelled repeatedly, on a mission to blow the Easter Bunny’s cover and spread the word.

I kept my head down, only glancing up briefly as I headed towards the door. I had no choice but to pass the waiting crowd of parents and children in line to meet the Easter Bunny. The children looked confused and frightened. If the dirty looks that I was getting from the parents were any indication, they were pissed.

Needless to say, that was our last official visit to see the Easter Bunny and quite likely the beginning of my dislike of the Easter Holiday.

And if you think that was a funny yet embarrassing situation, wait until you read what happens in my next Easter post.  (Part 2) 

 

 

 

 

 

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Frozen Peas on My Knees

FINALLY got my computer back and I can now continue with my blog. In the interim, during my down time from blogging, I tore the ligaments in my right knee. Long story…which ended in me going to the hospital in an ambulance. As the paramedics were helping me out of my house and down a flight of steep stairs (in the pouring rain), my neighbor called the police because the ambulance was blocking the road. My life, I swear…

So while I sit in bed with a bag of frozen peas on my elevated knee, I bring you the continuation of my blog…

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10 Reasons That Single Moms Rock! (As told from my experiences as a single mom)

Let’s face it, single moms are resourceful. We are bonded by our ability to get things done and make things happen under the most limiting, seemingly impossible set of circumstances. This takes creativity, ingenuity, sacrifice and smarts. Now, I’m sure that you have respect for the single mom who works hard to provide for her family but I’m not sure that you can even begin to fathom just how savvy and determined we actually are. So let me be the first to give you the real inside scoop…

10 Reasons That Single Mom’s Rock:

  1. We’re not afraid to be alone – Contrary to popular belief, we are really okay with not being in a relationship…I’m not saying that having a relationship isn’t nice, but true to our hearts, our children come first.
  2. We find a way to provide our families most basic needs – It only takes one friend from school staying for a sleepover and one unpaid electric bill to equal, lesson learned. You can’t let the power get shut off ever again…plus using the excuse that a car must have hit a utility pole up the street only works once.
  3. We figure it out on our own – Sometimes the only way to have enough money to purchase the cleats for baseball is to scour through your closet looking for clothing  (that you got as gifts) with tags still on, hoping that you’ll be able to return them for cash. Been there, done that. Got the cleats.
  4. We lean on each other – Truth…We complain, we joke and sometimes we even cry but we lean on our other single mother friends for support when the going gets tough. There is always strength in numbers. 
  5. We take on the big challenges – Great. I have to purchase three laptops for school by the end of this week…PANIC…IMPOSSIBLE. “Don’t worry guys, mommy will get them for you.” After running around to a multitude of stores and realizing that you really can’t afford this, you end up at the local pawn shop. As fate would have it, not only do you find three affordable laptops, but there just happens to be a computer teacher from the high school there when you are. He resets all of the passwords and clears the memory on all of the laptops out of the kindness of his heart. Victory! Mom comes through, even if it took a day of running around and four hours at the pawn shop.
  6. We go without – Probably true of all moms but we single moms really put ourselves last. No vacation, no haircut every six weeks, no popular trends in clothing or fashion. If we don’t look good, know that we’re smiling because our children do. Sales, clearance, thrift stores…they only know that somehow mom got them what everyone else is wearing.
  7. We can turn nothing into something – It might be a recipe that becomes a family favorite created solely of “Whatever I have to work with” or a birthday or holiday that we make memorable on a shoestring budget…in retrospect we can’t even remember how we pulled it off, but we did.
  8. We find resources – Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Google it, inquire, seek it out. Somehow, someway, you can accomplish anything with a lot of drive and effort. 
  9. We understand the struggle is real – It ain’t easy! That’s the God’s honest truth and I challenge anyone who thinks that they can do a better job to come on over and hold the fort…but you have to come alone.
  10. We don’t give up – Being a single parent, male or female, isn’t for the faint of heart. In fact, it takes everything that you’ve got, everyday, and everything that you’ve got even on the days when you have no idea where you’re going to find the strength…but I do know this, I’ll never turn my back on the challenge. In the end it all comes down to love…and what better driving force is there than that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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On the Eve of St. Patrick’s Day

On the eve of St. Patrick’s Day, I’m not feeling very festive even given my Irish descent. Fifteen years ago, St. Patrick’s Day 2002, I came very close to losing my youngest son, Marc. I think about it often, but this year for some reason, I’m feeling emotional enough that maybe it would help for me to “blog it out.”

Kevin was almost 6 years old at the time and he had been fighting a week-long bout with the flu. I brought Kevin to the pediatrician three times and was awake more of that week then I slept…taking care of Kevin, Eric (aka Rocky, then 2 1/2) and 6 week old, Marc.

Finally, at around 2:00 AM Kevin’s fever broke, as I poured warm water over his shoulder’s while he sat in a steamy bathtub. I thanked God, got Kevin dried, dressed and put him comfortably to bed. I checked on Eric, peacefully asleep in his lower bunk and pulled Marc’s bassinet closer to my bed as I fell, exhausted, into my own.

The morning of St.Patrick’s Day, Marc seemed fine and the day progressed in the normal chaotic fashion that I had become accustomed to. It wasn’t until Marc was fast asleep during his afternoon nap that I became concerned about his breathing…It didn’t sound right, so I called my pediatrician. The doctor asked me to hold the phone close to Marc in the bassinet so he could hear the baby breathing. When I moved the phone back to my ear, the doctor asked “Is his color good?”

“Yes.” I said

The doctor calmly replied “Take Marc to Yale New Haven Children’s Hospital right away.”

Although the doctor was calm and gave me no indication of what might be wrong with my baby, I could taste the panic in my throat. I called my parents and my mother-in-law, who were all immediately on their way. Hospital…someone has to watch the boys…grab the car seat…keys, keys…where the hell are the keys…everything started to whirl.

My ex-husband was strapping the base of the car seat into our vehicle as Marc sat smiling in the car seat carrier. Then, Marc began to turn blue. I quickly unstrapped him and ran into the house, my ex-husband followed, as I screamed to my mother-in-law to call 911.

I began performing CPR. Breath into his mouth…not working. Turn him over and hit him on the back. Turn him back over and press on his stomach, center under his ribs. Nothing was working. Marc went from blue, to purple, to black. I froze. I went into complete shock.  I remember glancing towards Kevin and Eric standing in the family room, observing all of it. I am sure that the fear on their faces mimicked the fear on mine.

My ex-husband flew out the front door and returned with our neighbor, Patrick Hayden, Captain of the Milford Fire Department. I met Pat at the door and handed him my baby. Pat immediately put his mouth over Marc’s, sucked in as hard as he could and spat on the hardwood floors. Marc still wasn’t breathing. Pat began performing CPR and it seemed hopeless as the time passed and Marc wasn’t revived. I jumped when the CPR momentarily stopped and the silence was broken as Pat yelled, “Call 911 back and tell them Pat Hayden said to step it up!” Marc suddenly gasped a small breath.

If I never understood the word surreal up to this point in my life, I did at that moment. The time was moving fast…moving slow…was it moving at all? Finally, a fire truck arrived with a rescue unit in the back, we climbed in and were on our way to the hospital.

Marc was admitted to the NICU (Newborn Intensive Care Unit). He was diagnosed with RSV (Respiratory Syncytial Virus) which is actually a form of the common cold but can be very dangerous in babies under six weeks old.

Within twenty minutes of getting Marc stabilized in the NICU, I got a call from my mother-in-law from the children’s wing of the same hospital. Kevin was admitted for pneumonia in one lung.

I guess this is the My Life I Swear Part…and an example of my ability to crack a joke at an inappropriate time…I can’t pick the winning lotto numbers but I can end up with two out of three children in the same hospital for five days.

Thank God both of my boys recovered. Thank God for my ex-husband’s presence of mind and for Pat Hayden. I am forever grateful.

I won’t ever let my mind go to the what could have happened, what could have been or the what ifs. I remind myself everyday how blessed I am…but especially on St. Patrick’s Day, I take some time to celebrate all of my beautiful sons and what they mean to me.

My apologizes to all of my Irish relatives and ancestors, I won’t be drinking to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day…but if you get a chance, raise your Guinness for me and say a toast for Pat Hayden and all of the amazing firefighters that save lives everyday yet think nothing of risking their own.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Erin Cooper Reed