To read more about this creative journey I’m taking with 19 fellow photographers, click HERE or check under “categories” above.

Emotion

We had quite an emotional week this past week.  My 12 year old son’s Little League baseball team won the 2011 Tournament of Champions.  Now that may seem like no big deal to those of you who don’t have kids who play baseball.  Then again it might seem like a pretty big accomplishment to those of you who do.

For our family, it was HUGE!

And here’s why.

Jack was born with a complex heart defect called HLHS.   When he was diagnosed at 18 hours old, we had three options;  do nothing and take him home to pass away peacefully within his first two weeks, put him on the heart transplant list and hope for an infant heart to become available, or allow him to undergo a series of three “experimental” open-heart surgeries, the first of which would be done within his first 3 days of life.     After much gut-wrenching thought and lots of prayer, we decided to allow him to undergo the surgeries.

Jack's second surgery at 3 months old.

His first and most complex surgery took place when he was 3 days old.  I won’t go into details about what takes place during that day long procedure, only that his heart was intentionally stopped for part of the procedure.  During his month-long recovery at the hospital, I remember speaking with his cardiologist about what we could expect his prognosis to be.  I remember him telling me that because of the deprivation of oxygen with this type of heart defect, his limitations could range anywhere from brain damage to difficulty grasping a raisin with his finger and thumb.  But no matter what, we shouldn’t expect Jack to participate in competitive sports.   As much as I craved him giving me solid hope, the cardiologist said only time would tell.  I did wear him down enough that one day he came into the room with a picture of a dark-haired boy about 6 years-old who looked healthy and who, he said, was leading a pretty normal life. But that he couldn’t promise that Jack would follow the same path.

Well that was  the glimmer of hope I needed.  I grasped onto that image during the next several years as Jack underwent his final two surgeries.  As he finally didn’t need a feeding tube anymore.  As the oxygen tank, that had taken up residence in our family room corner and whose tube snaked throughout our little house, was wheeled away.  As  we no longer woke to the piercing cries of the apnea monitor at night.  As we no longer had to get up in the middle of the night to give the half dozen needed medications.  As Jack began to crawl.  As he began to walk and talk and laugh and smile and run.  As that glimmer of hope turned into our reality.

When Jack was a newborn we were told not to expect a lot.  Academically.  Physically.

When Jack was four he had read and memorized every fact and figure in his animal encyclopedia.

When Jack was six he could ride his bike.

When Jack was nine he had written a 30-page play with parts for each of his friends.

And when Jack was twelve he decided he wanted to try baseball.  For the very first time.  So we said, “Sure”.

He was put on the Dodgers team.  The team who had won the championship two years in a row.  Who went undefeated one of those years. With kids who many had played together for years.  We said, “Yikes!”

But with the very best coaches in the league, and as far as I’m concerned, in the world.  Coaches who accepted him ‘as is’ and took him under their wing and taught him patiently week in and week out.  Who taught him all the things that he needed to know to be an asset to the 2011 Dodgers.

And together they practiced and played week in and week out during rain and shine, cold and heat.  Working hard and winning week in and week out.  Eventually winning the League Championship.  And finally winning the Tournament of Champions this past Tuesday evening.

There were tears of joy, slaps on the back, high fives, and fist bumps.

For the players and coaches it was a Little League victory they had wanted from day one.

But for our family, it was more than just a Little League victory.

It represented all that is possible.

And it all began with a glimmer of hope.

Now go check out what my friend and fellow photographer, Aubry Startin of Startin Photo|Arizona Photographer has in store for this week’s theme of EMOTION.