RAISING CHRISTOPHER:
HE CHOSE TO LIVE AND BE HAPPY
Introduction
From the time I was a young child, I was aware of the need to choose to be happy. I was lucky to have two parents who loved me very much, but with their divorce when I was 10, five different schools over the next 8 years, and some unimaginable traumatic experiences, I had lots of opportunities to try and exercise my happiness muscles.
After high school, happiness seemed to come easier. I spent two years in Japan as a missionary for my church, and then returned to Utah to finish college. In 1995, a year after I graduated from law school, I married the love of my life, Alice. My law practice was going well, and in the spring of the year 2000, I believed my ship had really come in. Alice, and I learned that our second child was a boy, and he was due in the fall. Benjamin, our first son, was nearly four, and was a Daddy’s boy. I could not wait to have two boys to play ball. My perfect family was coming together.
In June of 2000, everything changed. Christopher’s heart stopped beating in Alice’s womb, and he had to be delivered in an emergency cesarean section. He was three and a half months premature. Even though he was resuscitated, he was not expected to live.
I questioned why God would do this to me? I was angry at Him. Although we had numerous near death experiences over the next five months that Christopher spent in the newborn intensive care unit, he did not die. One of the complications he experienced was hemorrhaging in both the left and right sides of his brain. The logical decision was to terminate life support. He only weighed slightly more than one pound. Even though we were told there was a very high probability that he would be a “vegetable” all of his life, Alice and I were committed to care for our boy.
Although it was expected, Christopher did not progress normally like other kids his age. At two years old, he was formally diagnosed with cerebral palsy. In the past, I pitied families who had children with disabilities. It did not seem possible to have a normal life while being burdened with the extra time and effort and limitations. When Christopher came home, it took nearly an hour to feed him each meal; he could not go anywhere without an oxygen tank for two years; he still cannot dress himself; he wears diapers (changing a poopy diaper in a 12 year old is a very different experience than an infant); he does not talk; he cannot walk on his own; but he is happy. Very, very happy.
Raising Christopher has been the most enriching experience of my life. The opportunity for service every day, which Christopher provides, has brought our family together in ways I cannot imagine experiencing otherwise. Christopher has taught me to avoid selfishness; to find joy in simple pleasures; to love unconditionally; to endure through tough times; to enjoy the moment; and to be happy.
I now wish that everyone could have the blessing of having a child just like Christopher. His happiness is contagious. He makes me happy. For those of you who do not have a Christopher in your home, it is my hope that through reading this book, some of Christopher’s goodness will rub-off on you as well, and perhaps it will enhance your day-to-day efforts to choose happiness in your lives.
Chapter 1:
My Perfectly Planned Life
The birth of my second son was supposed to be one of the happiest days of my life. However, as I sat alone in our room at Utah Valley Regional Medical Center, I was in shock and unable to control the painful sobs emanating from my body.
When the Labor and Delivery nurse entered our room and asked if I wanted to see my little boy, her question jolted me out of my devastated state for a moment as I pondered whether I was ready to view his lifeless body. I knew he would be very small. My wife was only 25 weeks along, in a planned 40 week pregnancy, when she was rushed to the operating room after the fetal heart monitors fell silent. Perceiving my confusion, the nurse communicated that my boy was not dead, and that she would escort me to the delivery room where a team of doctors were working to save his life, as well as my wife’s.
Prior to June 3, 2000, my life was going exactly according to plan, and I was happy. There is a little-known rule that allows a third-year law student to practice misdemeanor criminal law as an attorney if he is supervised by a licensed attorney. I knew the rule. I won my first jury trial long before graduating from law school in 1994. In fact, I had the opportunity to get so much real world experience during the summer after my second year in law school, that my third and final year was very anticlimactic. While everyone else in my class was arguing over the correct interpretation and application of some obscure old English doctrine such as the rule in Shelley’s case, I was daydreaming about my last closing argument and the thrill of hearing the jury pronounce my client not guilty.
My life had continued according to plan after law school. I had many victories in the courtroom. Just over a year after graduation, I married my sweetheart, Alice. We were twenty-seven years old. Eleven months later, we had our first child, Benjamin. I grew up with a love of sports and the outdoors and couldn’t wait to share my loves with my children. Coming from a family with only two children, I had always wanted at least five kids and imagined the joy of playing ball together, four-wheeling in the mountains, or simply gathering in the living room and playing games.
Benjamin was the perfect little “Daddy’s boy.” He came out of the womb with a tennis racket in one hand and a basketball in the other. We were as close as a father and son could be. Our second child didn’t come quite as quickly as our first, but three and a half years after Benjamin was born, and after at least one miscarriage, we learned that Alice was pregnant again. I could hardly wait for the twenty-week milestone when we would have an ultrasound and learn the gender of our new baby. We went to the Doctor on May 4, 2000. Another boy! Perfect!
I couldn’t have been happier. Life was going exactly according to plan again. Alice and I were struggling a little to choose a name. One night, shortly after the ultrasound, I was lying in bed, and it came to me: Christopher. It was not a family name, but I knew it was the right name for our second son. I told Alice of my impression, and she felt the same. With name and gender in hand, we were so excited to spend the next 20 weeks getting Christopher’s room, baby clothes, and toys ready.
My job had continued to go well. I was fortunate enough to hear numerous juries pronounce various clients not guilty. My reputation was growing. One of my prominent cases was even featured on Court TV. We were doing well financially. I knew the time had come to get a car of distinction—a Lexus sedan. Not only was it a car that seemed to say “There must be a successful, happy person driving that car,” but it would be practical for hauling my boys to school and their various ball games.
On a bright and sunny memorial day, May 29, 2000, Alice, Benjamin, and I went to the Lexus dealership to pick up our new car. It was a looker! Its color was called “sage.” Cars of distinction do not have colors like silver or gray. It had nice leather seats and lumbar supports that could inflate or deflate to create the ultimate degree of comfort. The seats also had multiple temperature controls; the steering wheel tilted; the windows and mirrors were electric; and it had a premium sound system with both a cd player. We had finally reached the big time.
I will never forget the ride home from the Lexus dealership when I thought how perfect my life was. I had the world by the tail. I was successful at my job, I had a beautiful wife who loved me, I had an awesome little boy, I was ecstatic for my second boy to be born on or about September 12, and we had a beautiful home with the biggest sandbox in the neighborhood. I could not have known as I drove that my life was about to change forever.
HE CHOSE TO LIVE AND BE HAPPY
Introduction
From the time I was a young child, I was aware of the need to choose to be happy. I was lucky to have two parents who loved me very much, but with their divorce when I was 10, five different schools over the next 8 years, and some unimaginable traumatic experiences, I had lots of opportunities to try and exercise my happiness muscles.
After high school, happiness seemed to come easier. I spent two years in Japan as a missionary for my church, and then returned to Utah to finish college. In 1995, a year after I graduated from law school, I married the love of my life, Alice. My law practice was going well, and in the spring of the year 2000, I believed my ship had really come in. Alice, and I learned that our second child was a boy, and he was due in the fall. Benjamin, our first son, was nearly four, and was a Daddy’s boy. I could not wait to have two boys to play ball. My perfect family was coming together.
In June of 2000, everything changed. Christopher’s heart stopped beating in Alice’s womb, and he had to be delivered in an emergency cesarean section. He was three and a half months premature. Even though he was resuscitated, he was not expected to live.
I questioned why God would do this to me? I was angry at Him. Although we had numerous near death experiences over the next five months that Christopher spent in the newborn intensive care unit, he did not die. One of the complications he experienced was hemorrhaging in both the left and right sides of his brain. The logical decision was to terminate life support. He only weighed slightly more than one pound. Even though we were told there was a very high probability that he would be a “vegetable” all of his life, Alice and I were committed to care for our boy.
Although it was expected, Christopher did not progress normally like other kids his age. At two years old, he was formally diagnosed with cerebral palsy. In the past, I pitied families who had children with disabilities. It did not seem possible to have a normal life while being burdened with the extra time and effort and limitations. When Christopher came home, it took nearly an hour to feed him each meal; he could not go anywhere without an oxygen tank for two years; he still cannot dress himself; he wears diapers (changing a poopy diaper in a 12 year old is a very different experience than an infant); he does not talk; he cannot walk on his own; but he is happy. Very, very happy.
Raising Christopher has been the most enriching experience of my life. The opportunity for service every day, which Christopher provides, has brought our family together in ways I cannot imagine experiencing otherwise. Christopher has taught me to avoid selfishness; to find joy in simple pleasures; to love unconditionally; to endure through tough times; to enjoy the moment; and to be happy.
I now wish that everyone could have the blessing of having a child just like Christopher. His happiness is contagious. He makes me happy. For those of you who do not have a Christopher in your home, it is my hope that through reading this book, some of Christopher’s goodness will rub-off on you as well, and perhaps it will enhance your day-to-day efforts to choose happiness in your lives.
Chapter 1:
My Perfectly Planned Life
The birth of my second son was supposed to be one of the happiest days of my life. However, as I sat alone in our room at Utah Valley Regional Medical Center, I was in shock and unable to control the painful sobs emanating from my body.
When the Labor and Delivery nurse entered our room and asked if I wanted to see my little boy, her question jolted me out of my devastated state for a moment as I pondered whether I was ready to view his lifeless body. I knew he would be very small. My wife was only 25 weeks along, in a planned 40 week pregnancy, when she was rushed to the operating room after the fetal heart monitors fell silent. Perceiving my confusion, the nurse communicated that my boy was not dead, and that she would escort me to the delivery room where a team of doctors were working to save his life, as well as my wife’s.
Prior to June 3, 2000, my life was going exactly according to plan, and I was happy. There is a little-known rule that allows a third-year law student to practice misdemeanor criminal law as an attorney if he is supervised by a licensed attorney. I knew the rule. I won my first jury trial long before graduating from law school in 1994. In fact, I had the opportunity to get so much real world experience during the summer after my second year in law school, that my third and final year was very anticlimactic. While everyone else in my class was arguing over the correct interpretation and application of some obscure old English doctrine such as the rule in Shelley’s case, I was daydreaming about my last closing argument and the thrill of hearing the jury pronounce my client not guilty.
My life had continued according to plan after law school. I had many victories in the courtroom. Just over a year after graduation, I married my sweetheart, Alice. We were twenty-seven years old. Eleven months later, we had our first child, Benjamin. I grew up with a love of sports and the outdoors and couldn’t wait to share my loves with my children. Coming from a family with only two children, I had always wanted at least five kids and imagined the joy of playing ball together, four-wheeling in the mountains, or simply gathering in the living room and playing games.
Benjamin was the perfect little “Daddy’s boy.” He came out of the womb with a tennis racket in one hand and a basketball in the other. We were as close as a father and son could be. Our second child didn’t come quite as quickly as our first, but three and a half years after Benjamin was born, and after at least one miscarriage, we learned that Alice was pregnant again. I could hardly wait for the twenty-week milestone when we would have an ultrasound and learn the gender of our new baby. We went to the Doctor on May 4, 2000. Another boy! Perfect!
I couldn’t have been happier. Life was going exactly according to plan again. Alice and I were struggling a little to choose a name. One night, shortly after the ultrasound, I was lying in bed, and it came to me: Christopher. It was not a family name, but I knew it was the right name for our second son. I told Alice of my impression, and she felt the same. With name and gender in hand, we were so excited to spend the next 20 weeks getting Christopher’s room, baby clothes, and toys ready.
My job had continued to go well. I was fortunate enough to hear numerous juries pronounce various clients not guilty. My reputation was growing. One of my prominent cases was even featured on Court TV. We were doing well financially. I knew the time had come to get a car of distinction—a Lexus sedan. Not only was it a car that seemed to say “There must be a successful, happy person driving that car,” but it would be practical for hauling my boys to school and their various ball games.
On a bright and sunny memorial day, May 29, 2000, Alice, Benjamin, and I went to the Lexus dealership to pick up our new car. It was a looker! Its color was called “sage.” Cars of distinction do not have colors like silver or gray. It had nice leather seats and lumbar supports that could inflate or deflate to create the ultimate degree of comfort. The seats also had multiple temperature controls; the steering wheel tilted; the windows and mirrors were electric; and it had a premium sound system with both a cd player. We had finally reached the big time.
I will never forget the ride home from the Lexus dealership when I thought how perfect my life was. I had the world by the tail. I was successful at my job, I had a beautiful wife who loved me, I had an awesome little boy, I was ecstatic for my second boy to be born on or about September 12, and we had a beautiful home with the biggest sandbox in the neighborhood. I could not have known as I drove that my life was about to change forever.