T H I R T Y T W O

Today Tyson turns thirty two. T H I R T Y  T W O. What the heck? No way am I old enough to have an old man for a son. Sigh. I guess I am. Crap.

To understand Tyson slightly, you have to hear a bit of his early years.

Mark was in the Navy and we lived in Norfolk, Virginia in a time where email and cell phones didn't exist. Not long after Mark deployed, I found out I was pregnant with our first baby. I was so excited that I hollered and screamed my joy to the nurse through the drop-a-dime-and-wait-for-a-dial-tone phone. Poor thing hung up on me. I'm sure her ears were bleeding from the LOUD screams that rocked through the phone lines. When I had calmed down enough, I dug another dime out of my pocket, called back to find out what to do next. Remember, my family is all adopted and I had NO idea how this childbirth stuff even worked.

After hanging up with the nurse (who, yes, hated my guts), I wrote Mark a letter. "We're having a baby!" I wrote with swirls and hearts and tons of kisses.

My excitement continued through Mark's arrival home. I was HUGE. I don't mean a little big, I had doubled my weight and was still going strong. I was wearing Mark's Navy pants and keeping them tight around my tremendous belly with a rope. Yep. You read it right. A rope. Oh and by-the-way, I had taken a huge bite from a Big Hunk candy bar and the cap on my front tooth stuck in the remainder of the candy. Snaggle tooth and HUGE. Yep. That was me. Poor Mark. He came home to THAT sight and I'm sure wanted to run screaming back to the ship. Sigh. Not my most beautiful moment.

August 18 rolled around and we were hanging out with some friends at their house. We had all decided that we were going out to dinner that night. Italian. And I was super excited to have a date night with my hubby. Problem was, throughout the day, I kept getting a stomach ache. My due date was two months away. It didn't even cross my mind that I could possibly be in labor. Young and naive. Yep. That described me.

I borrowed the phone to call my mom. "I keep having these stomach aches that don't seem to go away." I called the hospital. By then, the pain was coming more frequently and my enormous belly would go hard as a rock.. "You can come in if you want, but, it doesn't sound like anything serious."

No way was I going to miss my date night and spaghetti dinner. The hospital was about twenty minutes away, involved a toll bridge and I HAD A DATE scheduled. The hospital said not to worry so I didn't.

I began showing tension from the pain and Mark said that we were going to check everything out. Crap. Looks like spaghetti would have to wait.

We arrived at the hospital and I was whisked into a back area where they hooked me up to I.V.'s and performed an ultrasound. I was having the baby. They tried to give me stuff in my I.V. to stop the labor. No go. I was having that baby. Today.

The nurse went out to the waiting room and told Mark to get me admitted. It was an OLD hospital built like a campus. Different buildings for different needs. Mark had to drive to the Admission Building. In all the discombobulation of bad directions and nerves and WHAT-THE-CRAP's, Mark left the Naval Hospital, drove down the street and attempted to admit me in the civilian hospital.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Deason, we have no record of your wife." "Well, she's here. I was told to admit her. We're having the baby. Check again." Nurse finally takes a good look at the haircut and realization dawns on her. Wrong hospital, buddy.

Mark finally got me admitted to the RIGHT hospital and made it back to me. "WHERE THE CRAP HAVE YOU BEEN? " as I moaned and groaned through my pain.

It was 1984. Not much in the lines of doctor bedside manners. PLUS we were at a Navy training hospital. I had different a doctor every time someone walked in the room. Felt like a circus and I was the main attraction. By then, I hurt so bad I could have cared less if it was in the middle of main street. I wanted that baby OUT.

2:30 in the morning of August 19, Tyson Jack Deason was born. All 5 lb. 6 oz. of him. There was a crew of emergency technicians to whisk him away and begin working on him. As they were running out the door, I yelled "Can I see my baby?" someone held him up for me and hollered back "It's a boy." and ran out with my son.

They told us there was only a 50% that our boy would make it. "Screw that. He's a Deason."

Tyson spent his first days in an incubator. He was in a room with babies half his size. He was so tiny, yet the other babies were dwarfed next to him. We were allowed to sit by the incubator, stick our hands through and hold his hand. That's it. No cuddling.  A few days passed. We were finally allowed to hold and ROCK our baby. The sweetness that emanated from that little bundle remains locked in my mind.

I stroked his beautiful head of hair. Swirled the hair on his back. Tickled his tiny toes and told him how important he would be in this world.

Tyson grew and flourished and came home to a VERY PROUD mother and daddy.

I dug out the handy-dandy click it camera. Mark was holding Tyson against his chest. I aimed the camera to snap a picture, and Tyson lifted his head off Mark's chest and turned away from the camera. That's when I knew. I had the strongest kid in the history of EVER.

We turned his head back. I drew back to snap the picture and again he turned his head. So began Tyson's stubbornness over picture taking. I swear he does it just to get a rise out of mom. I yell. I holler. I beg, plead and make promises TO THIS DAY to get that kid to pose for a picture.

Tyson strength remains a central part of his being. He has never let himself or others remain stagnant. He endures and learns and grows in epic proportion. Tyson is super smart. Always has been.  He is handsome and kind. He is the kindest person I know. Seriously. He will do anything you ask of him. There are times when he is alone in the "doing". That doesn't stop him. He continues forward and will not stop.

Tyson is the epitome of one of my all-time favorite quotes:

"I did then what I knew how to do. Now that I know better I do better." Maya Angelou

Thirty-two is just the beginning for this boy. He will continue to grow and learn and BE. I'm so proud of him. I'm proud to know him and ever so proud to be his mom. I jokingly say (when people ask if I am mom to Tanna, Shelby, Goose or Jaden) "Why do you ask?" and then I screw up my eyes in disgust and ask "Was he/she nice to you?" and we laugh and laugh. Sometimes they WEREN'T nice. HA!

However with Tyson? I NEVER ask that. I don't even joke about it. I know that my son represented himself and our family remarkably. In fact, I inevitably wonder what he gave to them, what he did for them or how he shared something that changed their lives for the good.

That's my boy. Honest. Kind. Handsome. Caring. Unselfish. Smart. Hopeful. Valiant.

He is the best person I know and I'm ever so proud of him.

Happy thirty two, son. I can't wait to see what you do with the rest of your life.