The Cave

 When I first started writing about the journey with Houlder, I felt like we were managing each moment.  Our lives had shifted and changed substantially without us understanding; we functioned by putting out fires and wearing the face of normal.

The greatest gift Vanderbilt gave us was July.  Once we knew we were going, we stopped searching and looking for answers and doctors.  It was SRA full time.  We had decided that we could not change or fix and handle anything, and our boys -- especially the other three -- needed normal.  They needed practice and schedule and friends and the joys that only that little old place offers.  It may be wrong to attribute so much joy to one place, but it works for us. 

In my last blog a month ago, Houlder was readying for his final swim.  It was an evening with exciting races, friends and pleasant weather.  Houlder swam his heart.  He began struggling after the first touch and he had 75 more yards to go.  He raced friends who swam magnificently.  After the second touch, I cheered like a fool to distract myself from jumping in to pull him out.  He told me later that when he came into the final turn, he wanted to get out but he could hear so many people cheering him on.  He told me, "It gave me the strength to keep swimming."  I could see his body struggle and shake.  My tears were quietly unstoppable.  He touched the wall; people cheered.  Will and his coach Mike went to him as he did not look like he could make it out. 

William going to him is significant.  He is never spooked.  When Frazer was born amid emergency and needing assistance, he never blinked.  When Dell had a scare with a health issue, he was steady.  He just never worried.  He waits and assesses.  Will attending was tender and frightening.  It took over 30 minutes for Houlder to stop having tremors and shaking.

But the amazing thing about him is that he appreciated how people encouraged him.  

He slept for almost two weeks following this swim.

He managed mite movie with Porter and pasta night but had to skip the jello wrestling and pep rally.

He slept through champs.

I did not know if he would make it to banquet. At our house, SRA champs week is like Christmas week.  Full of so much joy and delight and fun.  It is amazing to me the inter-generational conversations and fun.  The banquet is like Christmas morning opening the presents.  It is not the trophies but the senior speeches which this year were astounding in their frank expression of how SRA is a part of them and will always be a safe place and fun place and special place no matter where people move or how life can be tricky.  It is also the dancing and celebrating with everyone afterwards.  The electric sly, the conga lines with young and old and the sense that this is the final evening of our collective soul for the season. 

Saturday he met with a coach and a dad and helped with the slide show.  He took a nap.  He felt like he could go.  He clapped when his brothers and friends got their trophies.  He asked if he would even get the trophy.  I said, "Sure.  I paid the registration.  You're golden."

Then, this amazing little recreation association which dedicates itself to providing old fashioned family fun -- like going to camp with your kids -- reached across the illness and the longing and spoke about Houlder.   His coaches recognized him for offering Dedication, Devotion and Determination in a special 3D award in honor of a family who loved Southampton so much that after they moved to NoVA, they continued to travel to Richmond to swim for SRA in the summers for many years. 

When Mike began introducing the award, that was the moment William broke.  People applauded and stood.  Houlder was surprised.  I could think of others who could have received it because at SRA there are many who qualify.  But it was sweet.  Dell turned to Houlder and was uncharacteristically kind, and Houlder was shockingly willing to hear it (they are still siblings less than two apart and bickering is a way of life).  We held joy.

The banqueting continued with dancing, cheering, running and talking. 

Little did the throngs know that their moms had held two secret meetings to share a little something with them.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zrQ37X3s24M&feature=feedf

We moms --  40-50 of us -- average age of old enough, had some jello courage and danced with our kids and friends and laughed and "had a good night." 

The next day was like that post-Christmas blues.  We just were.

I spent the next week trying to plan for Frazer's year of homeschooling and asking Houlder every few hours, "What do you think about school?   How do you feel?"  I guess that I hoped that the answer might change.

Surf and sand and good friends carried us through last week in Ocracoke. 

High school life begins tomorrow for Dell as he tries out for soccer by training the next two weeks.

We had hoped to find full answers to Houlder's health by summer's end and have him return to school.  We had hoped that we would have sloughed through come to the other side healed reviving the standard chaos. 

In lieu of that, we had July.

We are still holding hope's hand.

We don't know what the best thing is for Houlder.  He cannot handle a half day.  We wonder if he could manage one class.

We wonder if we should find a lyme disease expert.  We wonder if we should go to the doctor in California.  We wonder if we have found the answer.

This experience has been heady.  For all the sadness and frustration and anger, there has been more joy.

Not many moms get to spend so much time with their teenager.  Here is a song form a group Will shared with Houlder who in turned shared with me.  "I will hold on hope."


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3KkUeRPjc-Y

Mumford and Sons