Monday morning October 25, 1999 my wife and I were called to the NICU of St. Francis Women’s Hospital to say goodbye to our three-week-old son. Ben had decided to literally burst upon his family’s scene three weeks earlier – 8 weeks before he was due.

A few months before his birth we had watched an “iffy” ultrasound indicating that something about our son wasn’t quite normal. Lots of tests were done mainly to make us feel better about my wife giving birth to Ben in a nearby Catholic hospital which at the time had a pretty decent NICU. Little did we know that continuing our plan would be an incredibly significant decision; in fact it was probably one of the most important decisions about Ben we’ve ever made.

 The voice at the other end of the call knew I had just been awakened from a deep sleep. She was calm and gave me a moment to gather my senses – time to determine this wasn’t dream. “Ben is very sick - the neonatologist thinks you need to come here as soon as you can.” This was a message that in all honesty we weren’t expecting but knew was a possibility.

Over the weekend Ben had developed what was thought to be a mild case of pneumonia. Several times we were told not to worry – that this was not unusual for preemies.  My wife Joan had been with our son for several hours Sunday night. According to her there was nothing about the situation to be alarmed about. But within the span of about 8 hours something had changed. We were about to say goodbye to Ben.

This would be the first of many times that our youngest child would “cheat death.” Some of those times Joan & I weren’t even aware of. We were told neat the end of his three month stay in the Neonatal ICU that he had coded nine times. Nine times doctors and nurses had to use extraordinary medical means to bring Ben back from the brink of death. We only knew of one.

Last month Ben reached a huge milestone – he celebrated his tenth birthday. For some reason many of us tend to reflect upon the past in measures of ten. A decade of the 21^st century will have passed a little over a year from now. We will look back to see how life has changed from 2001 to 2011. Think of how we tend to celebrate our 30^th, 40^th, and 50^th birthdays. The same goes for important wedding anniversaries. And so Joan and I recently revisited that moment ten years ago when we faced uncharted waters for the first time.

It was interesting to discover we had similar emotions that morning and the critical days that followed. Neither one of us can recall shedding any tears even though we’re certain that happened. Neither one of us can recall being angry even though we certainly had a right to. And neither one of us can recall being afraid even though that was the huge white elephant hovering over our son’s crib. The only feeling we can remember is numbness.

Certainly every Hopeful Parent is asked the question, “How to you do it?” I don’t know how often Joan or I have been told God only gives these special kids to those who can deal with it and I’m certain almost every Hopeful Parent has been told something similar. Even though I keep my mouth shut let me say for the record that I want to scream bull shit every time someone’s pulled out the Bible quotes. The honest answer is we don’t know – we just do it.

There is no course to take. There is no courage award. There is no light at the end of the tunnel. When all is said in done all we have is hope. Hope that we have enough strength. Hope that we can get through the day (or night). Hope that we can pay for the medical bills. Hope that we have done our best. Hope that our marriage will last. Hope that tomorrow things will be better. It just is what it is.

"Once you choose hope, anything's possible." Christopher Reeves

Ben & Bennie can be found hanging out at A Work of Art: Raising Our Exceptional Son.