When I was 6 years old my dad decided he wanted to be a preacher and so we packed up our stuff and moved from Topeka, KS all the way out to Denver, CO.  At the time I didn't understand how that move would be life changing for me.  It was a move that would lead to the greatest bonding moments that I ever had with my Daddy.
We moved to Denver John Elway's rookie season.  The Mile-High city was Bronco crazy.  Everywhere you looked there were bright orange jerseys, t-shirts, posters, pennants, even coffee mugs. It was more than a little boy's 6 years of sensory perception could handle.  It was overload to the eyes, ears, and the heart.  I was hooked from the beginning.  Come to think of it, it was more than a grown man's 30 years of sensory perception could handle. It was overload to the eyes, ears, and the heart.  My dad was hooked from the beginning.
Since that time the Denver Broncos have been a constant conversation piece in my family.  They have been a source of joy (SuperBowl XXXII and XXXIII anyone?) and sorrow (those other not so Super Bowls), provided a wealth of entertainment (The Man in the Barrel) and devastation (Tebow?), and a constant reminder how some things are just understood as a "father-son-thing."
I have so many great memories with my dad growing up: He baptized me; he took me fishing; he taught me how to work with power-tools.  Many of my best memories though had something to do with Dad, me, and the Denver Broncos.  One year we forsook the family Thanksgiving to drive to Dallas and watch the Broncos beat the Cowboys.  In the parking lot after the game, we walked back to our car with the aforementioned Man in the Barrel, Denver's most well-known super fan.  I was in college when the Broncos won SBXXXII.  It was the first Bronco Super Bowl that my dad and I didn't watch together, but thanks to a little invention that was becoming popular, the cell phone, I was able to talk with my dad throughout the game.  I still remember when Elway dove head first over the Packer defender, dad called and yelled through the phone, "We're gonna win this one!"
Probably my greatest Dad-Bobby-Bronco memory came in my 20s when I took dad to Canton, OH for the NFL Hall of Fame induction of John Elway. We toured the hall, saw Elway get inducted, watched the Broncos play the preseason Hall of Fame game, and stuck around to meet, shake hands with, and get autographs from many of the Denver Broncos.  More than being star struck, I was pumped because my favorite football players were getting to meet my hero! I'm telling you seeing Champ Bailey meet my dad - priceless!
So, fast forward several years.  I'm about to have a son.  I've caught some flack from some folks because I've decided to do his nursery in Bronco orange and blue.  I hope they will read this post and maybe begin to understand.  Choosing to do Josiah's nursery isn't about me being a crazy Bronco fan (well not entirely *wink*), but about what I hope to build with him.  My dad is my hero, and one of the best buddies I've ever had.  My dad is also someone who probably wouldn't be as Bronco crazy as he is, if he didn't love his son.
I don't know much about what the future holds for Josiah and I.  But, I do know this...I hope to be half the dad that my own dad is.  I hope Josiah might one day call me his hero.  I hope someday we can take 3 generations of Bronco fans to a game.  I hope when my boy looks at the colors orange and blue that the first thought that crosses his mind is relationship with his daddy.
Tonight, I'm watching the NFL draft, eagerly awaiting that first round Bronco pick!  Next year, I'll have a little buddy right beside me.  He won't understand yet, but someday he will, and after all isn't that what every daddy desires?

The greatest and the least...

Tuesdays and Thursdays are often draining for me.  I begin with an 8 am Developmental Psych class and end with a 4 pm Developmental Psych class.  These developmentally bookended days wipe me out. I usually like to go back to my office after the 4 o'clock class, sit in my chair for a few minutes, and just unwind.  As I was going through my routine after class last Tuesday, I noticed something already sitting in my chair.
Upon closer examination of the item, I found a hand written note.  I will not put everything that was in the note in this post, but the gist of the letter was to tell me how my family was in the author's prayers, and to extend an arm of comfort to me personally.  Under the note was a copy of Gene Stallings' book, Another Season.
For those that do not know, Coach Stallings, arguably one of the elite college football coaches, walked away from his career to raise his son.  His son had down syndrome.  The subtitle of the book took my breath away: A Coach's Story of Raising an EXCEPTIONAL Son.  I've spent a lot of time thinking about how Josiah will have to overcome a lot because he'll be a step behind from the get-go.  I hadn't once considered that my boy was not disabled, but rather, exceptional.
This got me to thinking about a line of scripture that paraphrased says, the least will become the greatest in the Kingdom.  In many ways, Josiah will be looked at as "the least" but in the eyes of his Creator, he is counted among the greatest.  Others may see abnormality, but his Creator sees perfection. Many will call him disabled, but my son will be exceptional.
I was immediately humbled.  There is more scripture that says the greatest will become the least.  I think this is a lesson is humility.  Those of us who walk around proud of our normality have a responsibility to recognize the arrogance of our ways.  We should accept our weaknesses and become like the least of these so that in our leastness, God can make us great.  I was even more humbled when I read the signature on the note - John, and the little line at the bottom right corner of the page, "From the desk of John deSteiguer" President of Oklahoma Christian University.
I am at a place where lessons are constantly being taught to me.  I am at a place where the "greatest" is not too busy to pray for and comfort a colleague.  I am at a place where my son will not be known for what he can't do, but rather for all that he can, and after all isn't that every daddy's desire?

Ramblings from the top side of the mower...

This afternoon I spent my time working on the yard for the first time this season.  I love yard-work because it gives me a lot of time to think and to pray, and then to think some more.  These sessions are usually marked by my talking to myself, then talking to God, asking what he thinks, recalling scripture, and then telling myself what I think God thinks about all that I'm thinking.  Are you still with me?  
First, my thoughts - I of course spent the majority of my time thinking about Josiah, wondering what he'll look like, who he'll act like, what his favorite sport will be, what kind of faith lessons he'll teach me.  I imagined him riding in the baby bjorn while I mowed the yard, much like his big sister used to do.  We've been talking in our Sunday School class about Paul's letter to the Galatian church and the freedom that we all  have in Christ now.  This got me to thinking about how great it will be for Josiah to know all the freedom but not necessarily to know the slavery that makes that freedom so wonderful.  That then got me wondering about how much Josiah will understand about God's love for him.
That thought led me into my musings with God.  I asked Him, "God, if nothing else, I pray my boy will know you.  I pray he will love you, and I pray that he will be a vessel to bring others to you."  Of course this simple prayer went on for a while, as I tend to ramble when I'm really in conversation with someone, anyone, including God.
After my talking I went back to thinking.  This time though I was thinking more about God's responses to me.  Something along the lines of "Thanks for asking.  Of course your boy will know me, and I'll know him, and he will be blessed, and all will be well.  You will learn much, he will learn much, your family will learn much.  Life will be amazing."  As I was thinking these pleasant thoughts, I remembered that God has already said as much in His word.  He's also said some other things, like amazing doesn't always mean easy (rough paraphrase).  If it did, I probably wouldn't be having these inner monologues with myself, God, and, well another version of myself; and Josiah (as well as all of the downs babies) would have their 46 chromosomes, no more - no less.
Anyhow, I'm sure that God is amused at me trying to play both voices in my conversations with Him. On the other hand, maybe that other voice may be the Spirit making noise on my heart.  Either way, I'm set for a lifetime of these conversations and I hope in his own way that Josiah gets to have these sweet moments with his Creator as well.  I mean, after all, isn't that every daddy's desire?
 

What's in a name?

Josiah Matthew Kern

I'd love to tell you that there was some grand, beautifully penned story that led us to this name, but in reality the story is quite simple.  That is not always a bad thing, and in this case, the story is not only simple but comical as well.
We spent a lot of time researching names over the past few weeks.  We found some great names with some great meanings.  But nothing was really "speaking" to us.  We thought about names that meant something to our family.  But again, nothing was really standing out.  We even considered just naming him Buggy and being done with it.  But then we realized that was just nonsensical.
After a few weeks of searching and not finding anything that we really liked we both just put on the back burner of our minds.  And then the most amazing thing happened.  No we did not see the name appear in the clouds as if out of nowhere.  No we did not find a new constellation with the name written in the stars.  No we did not receive an anonymous package containing only the letters to the name in it.  No we were not awoken from sleep by the voice of God explaining to us that we must name our son this name and then move to Canada until he calls us back.
The amazing thing that happened? The season premiere of The Voice.  That's it.  The Voice.  One of the contestants is named Josiah.  When they announced him, Lisa and I looked at each other, both knowing that this had promise.  I quickly did a search to determine the meaning of the name, and was just as quickly moved to tears when I discovered that the name means "Jehovah Heals."  That is when we knew!
What an amazing meaning.  We know that the chances of Josiah being completely "healed" or without his DS are slim to none.  And that is okay.  But also know that there is probably healing that we need, or that you need, or that others need, that our son is going to be the vessel for; healing that we do not even know we are in need of yet.  It is my belief that Jehovah will use my boy to bring healing to those who are hurting, myself included.
The next day I was running through middle names in my head and kept coming back to Matthew.  For one, Matthew has a great meaning itself: gift of Jehovah. For two, I have a friend, a best friend named Matthew, and in the words of Mr. Myagi, he is "pretty okay too."  Between the meaning and the namesake, I was sold.
I had planned on talking with Lisa that night.  Interestingly, she texted me that very morning a simple question, "What about Josiah Matthew?" There it was right there in front of me, on my computer screen from my own research, and on my phone from my wife's.  Josiah Matthew Kern.
My son was named from The Voice (hey we could have went with Usher). His name has a powerful meaning.  We know beyond doubt that he will be a blessing, he will heal many, he's already bringing healing to his dad's often callous heart.  And isn't that every daddy's desire?

I just called to say...

One of the many things that I've been dealing with over the past several weeks is the response of people I love to the news that our little Buggy is super special.  Usually there is an awkward silence followed by a sympathetic pat on the arm, and a statement like, "ohhhh I am so sorry..."
I'm not offended by that response at all.  People don't know what to say.  Shoot, I don't know what to say half the time, and I'm living this.  Typically what follows this apology is a "but."  Here is where things get interesting.  I've heard a lot of things, "but, you're great parents so what a blessing for your boy," or "but, if anyone can handle this you can," or "but, insert your favorite theology lesson here..."
Now, again I'm not offended by these responses.  In fact, I understand them, and actually recognize the truth in them.  However, there are days when I don't want to hear them.  There are times when I'm tired of hearing the same things over and over.  Probably at some point in time, I'll write a discourse on what to not say when people you love are grieving.  But, that's for another post.
What I want to talk about today is what people should say.  Or more specific what a person did say.  One of my dearest friends called me yesterday.  I missed the call and, and as I prepared for another awkward conversation with someone I love, I actually thought about not calling him back.  My desire to talk with an old friend eventually won out and I called. To my surprise there was no awkward conversation.  There was little talk about Buggy, unless I was the one who brought it up.  In fact, my friend's exact words to me were, "I just called to let you know that I love you. I can't imagine what you're feeling, but I love you."  How amazing is that?
I guess my reason for posting this is to remind everyone that its okay with us if you don't feel like you have the right words.  Honestly you probably don't. Its okay if you can't think of a great lesson that God is teaching, or figure out the "plan" in all of this.  Honestly, you probably won't be able to, and even more honestly, I probably don't want to hear it.  Its okay if the only thing you can think to say is "Bobby, Lisa, I love you." Honestly, we love you too!
There is so much love in my life right now. So much! I am honored to be loved by you, and hope you know you are loved by me.  It is so amazing that my little boy is going to be covered in such a fuzzy blanket of love! And really isn't that every daddy's desire?

How special? More than you might think.

Well there is no doubt that our little Buggy is special.  He is my son after all.  Not to mention that he has the worlds' best mama and big sister in his corner already.  Plus, he'll no doubt have my sense of humor and the Kern great looks.  But just when you think you know exactly how special Buggy is, well he surprises you.
I told you in my last post that our son has down syndrome.  Downs is a chromosomal abnormality referred to as Trisomy 21.  Each human receives 23 chromosomes from their mother and 23 from their father, making 23 total pairs, or 46 chromosomes. The 23rd pair is the infamous sex chromosome (XY -  boys; XX - girls).  The 21st pair is the down syndrome culprit.  What is special about this abnormality is not that the 21st pair is damaged in some way, or imprinted with some sickly design (like the mizzou tiger) but that there is actually an extra copy of 21.  So, instead of a pair, there is a try-fecta.  Hence the proper name, Trisomy 21.  This copy is typically made during the cell division that leads to sperm and /or egg development.  There are different percentages given but the one I give Dev Psych students is that there is a 1 in 700 chance that a child will be special enough to have that extra 21.  That is about 1/10 of a percent.  Since Lisa is 35 now, that number actually skyrockets to 1 in 400 (1/4 of a percent) So, we've got the numbers. thats pretty special.  But just when you think you know exactly how special Buggy is, well he surprises you.
As part of our journey the past several weeks, we decided to get an amniocentesis done to confirm the down syndrome. *I know some of you may have strong feelings about having the amnio done, but we can debate that in a later post.* Anyhow, the amnio was done and the results did indeed confirm downs, but it confirmed a special form of down syndrome called translocation. Translocation down syndrome is the rarest form of DS and occurs in less than 5% of all down syndrome children.  Translocation does not see a third copy of 21. Instead, each cell has the usual 2 copies of 21, but also, parts of 21 that have translocated onto another chromosome.  What makes this even more special is that translocation is the only form of down syndrome that may be genetically inherited.  May be genetically inherited? Either it is or isn't right? Well its possible.  Its possible that one of the parents is a "carrier" of TransDS, but probable?  Well, again, numbers are not exact, but somewhere in the range of 4% of DS children have the rare translocation form, and only 1/2 of those children genetically inherited it from their parents.  I'm telling you this kid is special. But just when you think you know exactly how special Buggy is, well he surprises you.
I have no idea what our little man is going to surprise us with next, but if he holds true to form, it is going to be a humdinger!  My boy already has one of my finest traits...he doesn't do anything half-way.  If he's going to do it, he's going to do it right.  My son is special, partly because of his crazy amount of chromosome 21 particles, but mainly just because! How special? More than any of us know right now, but hey, isn't that every daddy's desire?

What every daddy desires...

With this picture we recently told the world that our 2nd child was on its way.  At the time we took the picture we had no idea just how much this baby would impact our lives.  Just a few weeks after this picture was taken we learned two things: 1. that our baby was a boy and 2. that our precious son has down syndrome.

I will not lie to you, this was not the news that I wanted.  So many thoughts ran through my head that first day.  So many thoughts have run through my head every day since.  Most of those thoughts led to feelings of guilt.  I had dreams about what having a son would be like and in one instant it seemed as though all of those dreams were shattered.  Guilt. I'll never enjoy playing ball with my son. Guilt.  I'll never get to perform his wedding.  Guilt.  I'll always have to worry about people bullying him. Guilt.  I'm not strong enough to handle this. Guilt.  I can't watch my boy go through all of the physical, cognitive, developmental struggles that he will go through. Guilt. The more I read and learn about DS, the more I realize that many of these thoughts are unwarranted.  Guilt.  In prayers that have zero words from my lips because I'm not sure how to voice them, I hope for a miracle. Guilt.  I notice that most of my concerns are centered around the word "I". Guilt.

I'm learning that it is okay to feel.  Even guilt.  As I learn more about this chromosomal craziness, I'm feeling emotions that I don't know how to describe with words.  I'm processing in ways I never have before.

My son is developing normally so far.  No heart, brain, or gastro problems in utero. Love. His first HD ultrasound picture looks like he is flexing and kissing his bicep.  Love! His big sister has already named him Buggy. Love! His daddy is making plans to renovate his bedroom before he comes this summer. Love. His mama talks to him, sings to him, and even jokingly scolds him when he makes her sick.  LOVE! His family has rallied around him so much already. Love.  This boy is going to love comic books.  Love. He's teaching me life lessons already, and he doesn't make his debut for 20 more weeks. Love.

I'm having a son.  I'm so proud of him.  He is healthy.  He will be happy.  He is my boy.  And at the end of the day, isn't that what every daddy desires?