Baby birds and a baby boy, both taking flight
We’ve lived almost 29 years in a rural area in the glorious mountains of North Carolina. Simply looking out the window is a favorite home pastime. There, both comedic wild critters and a reposeful setting beckon, and I’m never disappointed.
One of my favorite treats is a full moon shining on a blanket of snow, converting the usual nighttime murkiness of the field across the road into a sort of movie set, if I rely on a bit of imagination. Sometimes I can see a deer or more; other times, nothing. The bedroom window with the best view of the field is where we looked up to see a twinkling star many moons ago. Frequent, though unwitting, outdoor entertainers include deer, groundhogs, raccoons, and possums, with rare sightings of foxes, coyotes, and black bears.
Feathered visitors in some form always hang around. Turkeys, hummingbirds, cardinals, crows, hawks, woodpeckers, a visiting bald eagle, a duck couple, and others strut, hop, waddle, and squawk, putting on shows at all hours of the day. Birdseed and suet treats keep them coming.
A baby bird takes flight
We recently had the company of a bird family that temporarily resided in a nest outside our main door. I shared that Mama Bird refused to close her eyes while guarding her three babies, bringing back some memories for me. In 1997, spinal muscular atrophy (SMA) insidiously snatched our baby Jeffrey’s ability to suck, swallow, move, and breathe. I didn’t close my eyes much back then, either.
Speaking from experience (though not as a feathered parent!), I told Mama Bird to get some rest, that she didn’t know what was coming next. Less than two weeks later, just after Randy, my husband, left on errands one morning, I found the lifeless body of one of the baby birds on the porch. Given the increasing squirminess of the growing trio and shrinking space in the nest, I imagined the little one might have inadvertently fallen out. After making sure Mama Bird knew that her baby had taken an early flight, I buried him gently in a tiny flowerbed near the nest.
Our own baby boy takes flight
Almost 27 years ago, I sat with Jeffrey perched on a pillow in my lap, his favorite place to be. He’d reached a point where morphine and suctioning failed to provide any comfort; a stream of heartfelt prayers later, I gave him permission to go on. And he did. He snagged his wings just two breaths later.
Gingerly pondering the surreal realization that our sweet baby boy was free from the ravages of SMA, I took the opportunity to gaze at our delicate angel before letting Randy know. I then hoisted myself out of the overstuffed chair for the first time in 14 hours. Randy made phone calls.
I hadn’t bathed Jeffrey in the tub in weeks because of emergencies warranting a hasty exit. I reminded myself that now there’d be no need for a hasty exit from the tub. In fact, I also reminded myself that there’d be no emergency episode for Jeffrey again, period.
He’d taken flight and joined the angels.
Signs and ‘coincidences’
Thanks to Jeffrey’s brief earthly stay, I learned to recognize signs. I consider them reassuring reminders that our loved ones in heaven may not be so far away after all. I imagine my optimistic tendencies help me notice them because I love to see them and share with others, but no one can deny their comforting awesomeness. The two lights my mother saw after my father’s death, the “Papa tomato” from Dad’s garden, feathers from my mother-in-law, the heart rock and gold pendant I found, and so many others seem like way more than mere flukes.
I don’t delve into numerology, and I don’t understand it. But I enjoy connecting date and/or number “coincidences.” Those remaining two baby birds in the nest outside our door? I figured they had to be about ready to fly the coop because they were no longer able to sink down into the nest. Mama Bird perched herself on the edge of the nest with them, and I thought I might actually catch the big event! I stood motionless inside the house, as close to the door’s glass panes as possible.
But it was no use. I could’ve sworn Mama Bird glared at me as the babies bounced up and down like antsy toddlers, so I backed up until they were out of my sight, and I was out of theirs.
The three birds took off when they had the desired scenario. I was disappointed to have been so close to witnessing their collective flight until I remembered the date: July 14.
On that date in 1997, Jeffrey was diagnosed with SMA. The date when life itself, as we knew it, took flight.
Note: SMA News Today is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of SMA News Today or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to spinal muscular atrophy.
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