Archive for January, 2009


I’m Not Chicken, I’m Just Yella!

January 30, 2009
Coleman Under The Lights

Coleman Under The Lights

As Coleman works his way through his little life there will be times on playgrounds when he’ll run into bullies. Often those bullies will simply use their words, trying to taunt Cole into doing things he otherwise would not have done.

This is a lesson he’s learning early in his life. Just this morning the doctor came in to let us know that last night in the nursery, the other kids were starting to call Coleman “yellow.”  He was getting a little jaundiced and had a bilirubin score of 15.

Now your average kid would take being called yellow as an insult; a question of their courage. But not The Cole Man! The buzz around the postpartum wing is that Cole sat up, looked the other babies in their semi-opened eyes and said, “Hey! I’m not chicken, I’m just yella!” (or at least that’s the way we heard it).

The doctors and nurses were so proud of his fine example that they are going to let him stay an extra day under the lights at the hospital nursery. I always hoped I’d have a son who someday got to “play under the lights” I just never expected it this early.  We’re so proud of him!



And In This Corner…

January 28, 2009
My First Meeting With Coleman

My First Meeting With Coleman

Ladies and gentlemen, weighing in at 8 lbs. 0 oz. and 20 inches long with a reach that extends right into our hearts get up on your feet and welcome Coooooleman Jason Hall!

Kolette’s water broke at five o’clock Monday morning and at 4:50 AM on the 27th of January, just shy of 24 hours later, Cole joined our family. Grandma and Grandpa Coleman, Grandma and Grandpa Hall, and Aunt Kara waited anxiously right outside the door.


Me "Resting" at 1:00am

From left to right (Grandpa Hall, Jason, Grandma Hall, Kolette, Aunt Kara, Grandma Coleman)

From left to right (Grandpa Hall, Jason, Grandma Hall, Kolette, Aunt Kara, Grandma Coleman)

Although we took more of a tortoise (slow and steady) approach, everything went smooth and easy. I think Kolette’s favorite word is epidural. The doctor and nurses were great and the whole experience was everything we could have hoped for.

I can truly say without any hyperbole that it was one of the seminal moments of my life. The doctor looked over in the middle of the birth to see how I was doing. I’m not sure he expected to see my face red with eyes filled with tears. Once the baby was born, the doctor finished up with Kolette and I went to the baby warmer in the room as they cleaned Cole up.

They swaddled him in a blanket and placed him in my arms. It truly is an amazing thing to look in someone’s eyes for the first time and know that you lay down in front of a train for him. I expected to love him and I expected my heart to be full. But I never expected there to be such an enormous difference between my expectations and the true feelings of my heart.

Me & My Boy

Me & My Boy

He is beautiful and perfect, sweet and tender–exactly the way he should be (totally unbiased opinion). We are so grateful for a healthy, well little boy.

In addition, it is difficult for me to express my gratitude for so many who care so much about this addition to our family. There are few people whose entrance to the world is overseen by people from Australia to Norway to Canada through the States and into the Islands. He is a lucky boy to have each of you in his corner.

Finally, Kolette is a Rockstar! She has amazed me over and over in my life, but watching her for those 24 hours between her water breaking and giving birth is something I will never forget. Once the doctor was finished and Coleman was placed in her arms it was my privilege to see a vision of a mother without equal. She is my best friend and my hero. I am so grateful to be a part of her life.


The "New & Improved" Hall Family

We’ll keep you in the loop as we continue through this adventure called Coleman.

I am a lucky, lucky man.


Coleman Jason Hall

Coleman Jason Hall


She’s Having A Baby!!!

January 26, 2009

You’ll have to wait for the last chapters of Cole’s Creation, because he’s decided to come 3 weeks early.  Here are some pieces parts of the day as they happened. Thanks for the Love.

I woke up this morning at 5am to Kolette running to the bathroom. Now with Kolette being pregnant, multiple trips to the bathroom have been more standard than not of late. But, this trip had an urgency that I hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t long after that we were pretty sure her water had broken.

My aide got an earlier than usual wake-up call and came over to help me get ready to help Kolette get to the hospital. As we planned for this day we knew that we were going to have to do things different than other couples. But, in true Jason and Kolette fashion we took it up another notch.

Three weeks ago my car was in a minor fender bender. We thought if we took it to the shop this week it would be all fixed and repaired for the “big day.” Initially, when we took the van to the shop we thought we’d be fine getting by without a rental. I work from home and was prepared to spend the next few days at the house.

On Friday, we found out that instead of being finished before the weekend the work on the van wasn’t going to be completed until Monday. This was a little bit of a problem. We were scheduled to go to a childbirth class on Saturday. At first we talked about getting the schedule for the class, choose the critical parts and have Kolette go by herself. Deep in our gut that just didn’t feel right. So we called the place that rents handicap accessible vans to see if by chance we could rent one at the last minute. These places aren’t like your local Hertz. Often, they only have a few vans and getting one on short notice can be difficult.

Luckily, a van was available and we are able to go to class. This meant instead of me driving Kolette to the hospital, she drove me. (Some things change and some things don’t)

By 8:30 AM we were in the Labor and Delivery unit and nurse Jenny gave us a final confirmation that Kolette’s water had indeed broken and Coleman was on his way. They moved this into a delivery suite and got the Pitocin flowing. So now we sit and wait. I’ve got my iPhone, DVDs and laptop; Kolette’s got her books and the soundtrack from “The Holiday”–so we’re all set.

Just waiting for more contractions and an epidural.



The Cole Creation (Part III)

January 22, 2009

I’ve finally recovered from hand surgery and am back at the blogs. Thanks to everyone for their prayers and support.

The following is a continuation of the story of how my wife Kolette and I went from making the decision to have a family, to finding out what that would require, and eventually successfully through the in vitro process.

In order to be a part of Dr. Heiner’s next “batch” we had to get started right away, before I was even released from the hospital. As instructed, Kolette began to take birth control. Now it may seem odd to start birth control when you want to try to have a baby. But, at the Reproductive Care Clinic (RCC) they want to have all the women in the same group or “batch” doing everything at the same time. This means regulating menstrual cycles. The best way to do this is to start everyone on birth control which will in turn allow every woman to have their period around the same time.

The doctors use this time to gather a lot of other information as well. Blood tests, ultrasounds, and exams are all done to establish a baseline. Kolette had to go to the RCC to get her work done. Since I was already in a hospital giving blood and getting examined a number of times each day they just threw my tests in with the battery of exams I was already getting.

A week after I was released from the hospital Kolette began daily shots of Lupron mixed with FSH. Lupron and FSH are drugs that stimulate the ovaries forcing more follicles to produce more eggs. These are shots from a little tiny syringe that Kolette would give herself each day in her belly much like a diabetic would administer insulin. Kolette didn’t have any experience giving shots and was frankly a little nervous to do so. The RCC was prepared for this and had a class where the woman could take her partner and they could both learn the procedure together. This way, if there was a question or need for a helping hand both parties knew exactly what was going on. Unfortunately for Kolette, the class was held while I was still in the hospital, so, when the time came for Kolette to give herself the shots I was not only unable to help physically but I didn’t have much knowledge to bring to the fore either. A hearty “Go Kolette” was really all I brought to the table.

Continual blood draws and examinations brought us to the 29th of January, 2008. This was our big day. They would harvest eggs from Kolette, gather the sperm from me, and if all went well we would finish the day with fertilized embryos. You’re encouraged to make this time a period of low stress.

In true Jason and Kolette fashion the 29th also ended up being the day we were to close on our new home. Obviously we were going to be busy on the 29th so we asked the title company to move the closing to the 30th. Dr. Heiner thought this was an interesting way to keep “low stress”. To his credit, he was just getting to know us and didn’t yet understand that we just don’t do “low stress”.

We went into the RCC early that morning. In the clinic they have two little operating rooms. We would be in the rooms simultaneously. This meant I was going to need extra help getting onto the table in the OR. The staff was a little surprised when we bought a 22-year-old aide with us to what was traditionally a fairly private procedure.

Kolette went into her operating room, my aide helped me into mine, and we were off. During the hours we spent at the RCC that day Kolette’s parents and one of my three aides waited in the waiting room.

Kolette’s procedure was both standard and simple when it comes to IVF.  Despite being 37 years old and considered “high risk,” her ovaries had cooperated and the doctor was able to harvest nine eggs. This was fantastic! Nine eggs! Nine eggs would give us nine chances to try and begin our family.

True to form however, my procedure was neither standard nor simple. Although we had had some success getting sperm in more “natural” ways before, the doctor felt that because of issues with motility and mobility a procedure called TESE (testicular sperm extraction) was our best option. During this procedure the doctor would take a needle, insert in directly into my testicle and procure the sperm.

I have to admit I cringed a little bit when I first heard him describe the idea (frankly, talking about it now still makes me cringe a bit), but this was for a family. Most of what Kolette had gone through was no picnic either and we had decided we’d do whatever it took–and at least with the help of an anesthesiologist I’d be asleep.

They hooked me up to the anesthesia and I went to sleep in the same way I had for so many other surgeries. When I woke up however, I was still in the OR. The doctor asked me a few basic questions to make sure that the anesthesia had worn off. Once he was confident I was comprehending what he was saying, he proceeded to tell me that there was a problem.

Contrary to the tests that had been done before, the sperm that were retrieved by the procedure were dead and useless. My heart sank. I felt so sure this was going to work.

The doctor said that there was one more option. He began to explain that the procedure was rare, painful and maybe not worth the risk. Before he even finished the sentence or told me what the it entailed, I looked him in the eye and said, “Let’s do it!”

Dr. Heiner asked if I could let him explain it first and then decide. I told him that he could explain the procedure, but that there was nothing to decide. True to his word he explained that the new procedure meant taking a biopsy of my testicle to see if they could get any sperm from the biopsy. He told me that based on how the TESA went my odds weren’t good. True to my word I said, “Lets do it.”

Our real dedication to making this work was showing through. Just before he’d come to ask me about continuing with the second procedure, the doctor asked Kolette what she thought. Kolette told him, “ It’s Jason’s decision, because it’s his body. But I already know that he will want to do whatever is necessary, so don’t be surprised when he says yes.” We weren’t just dipping our toes in the IVF pool–we’d jumped in headfirst.

The anesthesiologist put me back under and about an hour later I woke to better news–not much better, but better. The doctor said the sperm weren’t dead but they weren’t really moving either. He said that they would know more in a few hours but the chances that the sperm were viable or small. There was nothing more to do but wait.

Kolette and I went out to her parents. We were all a little confused. Everyone in our inner circle had prayed so hard and felt so good about a positive result, and yet everything that happened seemed to speak to the contrary. Kolette and I went home to an empty apartment a little saddened by the news, but resolved to have faith. We both believe in a God that loves us and wants only the best for us. That afternoon we decided to accept God’s will happily; whatever that meant.

Because of our unique situation everyone at the RCC, from the receptionist to Dr. Heiner come had become a little extra emotionally involved in our case. Leaving, we felt that they may actually be as sad as we were. While we went home to wait, the people at the Reproductive Care Center watched for movement. Later we were told that around four o’clock that afternoon one of the nurses came into the main commons area at the doctors office and announced excitedly, “They’re twitching!” We got a call that night at 6pm that through a procedure called ICSI (where they use a tiny needle to insert the sperm directly into the egg) they had been able to potentially fertilize all nine eggs. They told us that we would have to wait until the next morning to find out if any of the eggs became fertilized yielding actual embryos.

There have been many nights in our life together where Kolette and I have prayed for a miracle. But, it’s hard for me to remember a night when we prayed harder than that night. When the doctor called the next morning we were awake. As one might imagine we didn’t have a lot of sleep. Gratitude filled our hearts as we listened together to hear a choked up Dr. Heiner tell us we had seven viable embryos. No one could really believe it.

There are those people in the world who will tell you that God is dead. There are those people who will tell you the miracles don’t exist. There are those people who will tell you that so-called “miracles” are nothing more than coincidence and chance. I know they’re wrong. Those two days were filled with enough miracles to last me a lifetime. If I ever question the existence of a being who loves and cares for me I simply have to remember that day–the day when He allowed the impossible to become possible.

We weren’t out of the woods yet. But we are closer than we had ever been before. Although Kolette was not yet pregnant we now had seven chances to get her there. Seven shots at having a family. Seven shots at having our dreams come true.

(To be continued in “The Cole Creation Part IV” )



The Cole Creation (Part II)

January 12, 2009

The following is a continuation of the story of how my wife Kolette and I went from making the decision to have a family, to finding out what that would require, and eventually successfully through the in vitro process.

The decision had been made. Kolette and I were on the same page and prepared to move forward. We were excited and I thought somewhere in 2008 we would begin finding out more about what the process entailed.

At the time our good friends the Cranes were in the midst of the in vitro process themselves. In the past we would casually ask them about how the process was going for them and what they were doing. Now, I noticed a difference in the questions Kolette was asking and in the seriousness of those questions. She was no longer just asking casual questions to be nice, she was on a fact-finding mission.

Kolette found out everything about the process, the cost, the clinic they used, and the doctor they chose. I think from the first time we heard about Dr. Heiner and the Reproductive Care Clinic (RCC) in Sandy, Utah we felt good about working with them. I liked that we were getting information but felt we were simply preparing ourselves for moving forward sometime the following year.

I was again reminded about the way Kolette makes decisions. She spends a lot of time deliberating and discussing but once she’s decided–she’s done; and she had decided that she was ready to move forward now. I too was excited about everything but the “now” part. I didn’t feel well at the time and my poor health kept me from wanting to move ahead with the same vigor.

In June of that same year a bug bite had given me a septic bursa in my left elbow. I had a minor surgery and a few “in office” procedures to rectify the problem but still didn’t feel well.

Even though I was wondering when the right time to actually move forward was, Kolette knew that the right time was now. I’ll never forget the day she returned home from visiting the RCC with the pile of paperwork requisite to begin IVF. I asked her if we needed to finish the paperwork to start next year. She told me we didn’t need to finish the paperwork to start next year, but instead the paperwork was to start the process immediately.

I told her of my concerns about my health and we sat down to see if we could resolve them. As we spoke, Kolette brought up the fact that although I was experiencing a little health “hiccup” 2007 was the first year that I hadn’t spent a night in the hospital and my health was generally as good as it’d been since before the accident. Looking at things through this perspective instead of viewing them through the pain and lack of strength I was feeling helped me get squarely back on board. With concerns resolved we continue to move forward.

Before we even began we knew our situation was unique. I don’t think that we realized how unique until we began to fill out the paperwork. The majority of the questions didn’t even apply, or required answers longer than the page the question was on. We provided the best information we could and then, in order to paint the most accurate picture possible, we attached a cover letter that went through the specifics and complete detail of our medical, social due to the fact I was a quadriplegic and had such extensive surgical and health issues over last 10 years.

With the paperwork submitted the next step was to meet with Dr. Heiner. We set the appointment and waited for the day to arrive. Finally we found ourselves in his office hoping to qualify for a chance to try and have a family.

The nurse brought us back to Dr. Heiner’s office and invited us to sit across the desk from the doctor. Dr. Heiner, who had already completely reviewed our paperwork, looked up and asked us one question. He inquired, “How do you keep the faith?” I can tell you with complete certainty that of all the questions we expected this was not on the list. We replied, “”We just keep going and watch for the miracles that happen along the way.”

Then he asked us what we do when we don’t get the miracles we want. It was obvious that he was asking a question generally with reference to our lives, and specifically with reference to the miracle we were there to inquire about. In response we told him that we believed if we watch closely enough we could not only see miracles consistently happened but we could see how those miracles were right for us. He smiled and asked us how he could help us see if we could make this miracle happen.

It was at that moment Kolette and I knew we were in the right place.

We asked our questions and sure about the direction we were moving signed up to be a part of his next “batch.” At the RCC they put each doctor’s group of patients on the same schedule and call it a “batch.” That way everyone is doing the same things at the same time during the course of one cycle.

Kolette began what was required of her to get us in this batch. There were shots to help her ovaries provide more eggs and hormones to increase her uterus’ ability to capture the fertilized egg. None of it was fun but all that was necessary and Kolette move forward with her usual positive outlook.

Then, just before Thanksgiving 2007 we found out that my elbow wasn’t healing. In fact, things had gotten worse; much worse. I was going to require an additional surgery and six weeks of hospitalization. On Monday after Thanksgiving I was admitted.  In my first week at the hospital my one surgery turned into two and I contracted MRSA (a type of staph infection).

We had to postpone our place in the “batch” and the concern I had before about whether or not we were ready “now” because of my health was heightened times ten. 2007 was supposed to be the first year since 1997 where I didn’t spend a day in the hospital and now here I was three weeks into a six-week stay.

I began to be filled with all kinds of self-doubt. I began to wonder if my health would ever allow me to be a dad. Frustrated, tired, and sick of being sick one night in tears,I shared my fear with Kolette.

Ko slid next to me in my hospital bed, put her arm around me, and began to gently talk with me. She spent an hour telling me about how she believed in my ability to be a father. She spoke to me about how this issue with my elbow was different from my previous health issues, how it could happen to anyone and wasn’t just another extension of the car accident. She reminded me of how good things were in our lives and how much more present I was able to be in our life together.

In an hour I became sure of two things. First, that we should be a part of Dr. Heiner’s next “batch” and second, that I had married an incredible woman.

(To be continued in “The Cole Creation III”)


PS I hope to be able to post on Tuesday but am going in for minor surgery on my hand, and so it may be Thursday or Friday before I’m able to post again. Thanks for your continued support.


The Cole Creation (Part I)

January 9, 2009

The following is the story of how my wife Kolette and I went from making the decision to have a family, to finding out what that would require, and eventually successfully through the in vitro process.

In every life there are those days that stand out above the rest. Some you hope to remember, and some you’ll never forget. In my life, one of those days was a cold Sunday in October of 2007. For some reason, on this day, Kolette and I had our future family on the brain, and with the help of my PDA, went back and forth writing our current feelings about the subject during our church services.

It was a subject we’d broached before, but things were significantly different now. We’d gone through the process of artificial insemination on three different occasions between 1995 and 1996. Each attempt left its own scar on our hearts.

When you go through artificial insemination much of the work is trying to regulate the woman’s cycle. So we knew exactly what happened on each exact day. We knew that 14 days after insemination, Kolette would either have her period or be pregnant. The 14th day would mean our dream finally coming true or another heartache. I remember going to work on each of the three “14th days” praying that I wouldn’t get a call from Kolette. For, I knew that the only reason she would call was if her period had come. Each of the three times some time during that 14th day Kolette did call, distraught and disappointed would tell me she wasn’t pregnant.

It was a difficult and frustrating emotional roller coaster. But, we wanted children, and in the program we were a part of we had to do artificial insemination before we could move into in vitro even though our odds were decidedly better working in in vitro. Needless to say we were ready and excited to move into in vitro where we felt our chances would be much greater.

Then, in November 1997 I was involved in a serious car accident. The car accident caused me to be in the hospital for the following 13 consecutive months, which were followed themselves by another 10 years of hospitalization, surgery and therapy. During that time, although our hearts yearned for children, we were in absolutely no position to make that kind of commitment. I was ill for the majority of those 11 years and Kolette was responsible for much of my needs. We knew there was no way we could care for a child when I required so much help myself.

In late 2006 my physiatrist (a physician that specializes in physical medicine and rehabilitation) recommended that I get an internal pump to offset some of the pain medication that my situation necessitated. This was the blessing we needed. The pump allowed the fog that the pain medication had put me in to be lifted. Kolette notice the difference straightaway. I think my first realization of the significance of the change was when I was sitting in church and a little boy turned to me and said, “Hey, your eyes are open.” I asked him what he meant, and he told me that usually during church my eyes were closed.

I had no idea that the change was as dramatic as it was. But with my mind finally clear, my ability to participate in a life substantially increased. Not to mention the help the additional energy was to my overall health. In addition, my surgeries began to subside and for the first time since the accident I was working to get better simply to get better versus getting better in order to be healthy enough to endure another surgery. Our lives began to change and I began to become more independent.

This brings us back to the conversation on that cold October Sunday. We drove home from church in silence. Both of us were thinking about the feelings that had been expressed on the PDA. We pulled in to the parking stall in front of our apartment. I put the car in park and turned off the engine. Normally, we both would have started getting out of the van. But we just sat there. The silence broke when we turned to each other and said, “I think it’s time to try again.”

Kolette and I were shocked and surprised at the other’s response.We both began to cry as we worked to inquire if the other was really sure. I was especially concerned about this. I knew that I felt ready, but I also knew who the brunt of this responsibility would fall on. I was dedicated to be supportive and doing my part, but because of my paralysis the day-to-day care was going to be Ko’s to take care of. We were scared but assured.

That cold Sunday in late ’07 sitting in my handicapped accessible van we made our decision. We would try and see if we could have a family.

…Continued in Part II




January 7, 2009

Growing up it seemed like at least once a school year every teacher assigned us to write a paper about our hero. It could be anyone that we looked up to. No matter the grade, as soon as the project was assigned the room would become a buzz of excitement and intrigue. Everyone would begin talking about the person they would write about that year.

As you might imagine, in earlier grades students heroes were far more general in description. Doctors, nurses, firemen and ballerinas were the protagonists of the papers. Many times not for any reason other than the fact that a first grader wanted some day be the profession they chose as their hero.

As the years passed the heroes became grossly much more specific. NFL quarterbacks, movie and TV stars, CEOs, and fashion models begin to become the topics of the assignment. They weren’t referred to now by profession as much as they were by name. For example, their heroes weren’t so much NFL quarterbacks in general as much as they were Roger Staubach or Terry Bradshaw specifically.

It wasn’t long after that my classmates became interested in music. All of a sudden everyone’s hero was the front man for their favorite band. I remember as a 7th grader when the teacher went through the papers 90% of the kids said their hero was either Eddie Van Halen (guitarist for Van Halen) or Valerie Bertinelli (the woman married to Eddie Van Halen). It was obviously a big year for Van Halen.

I always received this assignment little differently. For me, this was the easiest assignment of the year. I knew who my hero was and I knew exactly what I admired about him. There was never much to think about, for in my life although I have had many people I’ve looked up to, I’ve only had one hero–my dad.

From the first grade all the way through junior high I would simply put together a new paper on Stephen J. Hall. I don’t ever remember a time in my life when he wasn’t the man I wanted to be. I have always known that my life would be a success if it simply resembled his.

As I wait now for this little boy to come in my life, I can only hope that he feels in some way the same way I feel about my father. I don’t need to be his only hero. There are plenty of good examples out there for him to want to model his life after. I do however hope that he looks at the life I have lived with integrity and pride.

It’s interesting, as his birth gets closer and closer I find that I don’t much care if he looks at me and sees a man of wealth, or a life filled with distinctions and honors. But, I do hope that he sees me as richly blessed. I hope he looks at my life and sees one lived with distinction and filled with honor.

I hope that I can live my life in such a way that Cole will look to me as a good man; a righteous man. I hope that he will see in me a man who is kind and thinks of others. I hope that he will want to treat the young women he associates with properly because of the way he’s seen me treat his mother. I hope that he’ll want to work hard because he’s seen me put 100% into anything I try to do.

More than anything I hope that I can set the example for my son that my father set for me.



Cheerios and Quiet Books

January 4, 2009

In church this past Sunday, we sat nearby a father doing his best to keep his rambunctious kid in line while the sermon was being given. I watched and couldn’t believe the chaos. Kids always have a healthy level of activity during services, but the action coming from this family’s pew seemed more than normal. Not only that, but the child just didn’t look right.

It wasn’t the regular disheveled look where you could see that things had once been put together and the child had simply wriggled out of his Sunday combo. Something was off. His pants seemed to tight, his shirt was too loose, and his hair was far from it’s regular “bouncin’ and behavin’.” In fact, his hair looked kind of like his Dad’s–all slicked back, with a perfect part.

It was then that I realized what was different. The mother was home sick. All of the sudden I was enthralled with the show that unfolded before me. The dad struggled to keep his little boy in tow. He was juggling baggies filled with Cheerios and so-called “Quiet Books” working to keep the congregation’s attention off his little boy and on the pulpit.

His kid was having nothing of it. It was as if this mouse knew full well that the cat was away and he was going to relish every moment. The boy was all over the place. It became clear that his endgame was escape from his father’s clutches and he seemed exceedingly good at accomplishing his goal. I watched as he wiggled out of his dad’s arms and made more than one break for freedom. The only time the father seemed ahead of the game is when his son would make his break for the aisle and the dad would put his leg down blocking the route at the last second.

In mid-chuckle, watching the comedy unfurl before me, I realized in the coming months that could be me. My mood changed from frivolity to fear as I watched and wondered how I would deal with the same situation.

I wondered how I would handle a Sabbath “sick day.” I wondered how I (who have to have assistance getting dressed in the morning myself) would help my boy to get ready for church. I wondered if there was a word to describe something between disheveled and disrobed.

The fathers “go to’s” were closed Ziploc bags of Cheerios and “Quiet Books” that were filled with buttons, snaps, and zippers which, because I can’t move my hands, are all of my league–and they seemed to be the only things keeping this dad in the game.

I pictured Cole making his break for freedom and since I can’t use my leg as a blockade, I wondered if he would be two or three blocks away before I actually caught him.

I’m sure it will be an adventure. There’s not much in life that isn’t. I’m sure there will be Sundays when Kolette won’t feel well and Cole and I will be on our own, what I’m not exactly sure of is how it’ll all work out.

Maybe they make Sunday clothes for kids that use Velcro instead of buttons, snaps, or zippers–I can handle Velcro. Maybe I can hang a “feed bag” of Cheerios off the side of my chair, and when Coleman is good he can just stick his head in the bag. Maybe iPhone has a “Quiet Book” app. Who knows? But, I have to admit that that’s part of what I’m excited to figure out.

Let’s just pray Kolette doesn’t get sick that often.



Man On The Inside

January 1, 2009

On 11 June 2008, my wife Kolette and I found ourselves huddled around an iPhone in a hallway waiting for Dr. Heiner from the Reproductive Care Center to tell us whether or not our second in vitro procedure had been a success. Just like any other couple waiting for such news our hearts were in our throats and we could hardly breathe. For, unlike many other couples we had waited 16 years to finally have a chance to have a child.

I am a quadriplegic and have been since I was 15. We knew that the prospects of having children were greatly diminished because of my medical condition when we got married. But, what we didn’t know was that five years into marriage I would be involved in a serious car accident. What we never would have dreamed, was that I would be hospitalized for 13 months after the car accident and in and out of the hospital having surgery and therapy for the following 10 years. That’s 11 years altogether.

But there we were waiting. Waiting to find out if the waiting was over. You can imagine the excitement and joy we both felt when Dr. Heiner let us know that Kolette was pregnant. There are people in the world who will tell you the miracles don’t happen. That day proved otherwise, that day proved that miracles are not just remnants of the past but a piece and part of our lives today.

This has been the most rare and incredible event to occur in my life. In so many ways this miracle just should not be. But but that’s why they call them miracles. As a C5-C6 quadriplegic my chances to have children that are genetically mine barely exists at all.

In this blog you’ll find my hopes and dreams along with my doubts and fears. You’ll find laughter and tears. You’ll find things that are funny and things that are sad. You may find things that are little odd and sometimes confusing. You’ll find the ridiculous, the sublime and everything in between. Some of it will be experiences that happen, some will be the feelings of my heart, but it will all be real–my real thoughts and emotions as I begin this next chapter in my life.

From the early days of this pregnancy I have referred to my unborn son (Cole) as, “My man on the inside.” With that in mind, I decided to name the blog “Man On The Inside.” For, here you will not only read what happens as my son and I go through this journey together, but you’ll get a look into my innermost feelings and emotions as well. It will truly be a look inside; inside our relationship and inside me.

So, watch as Cole and I experience this new life together. I’m not exactly sure where this ride will take us, but if we both hold on I know it will be a journey we will never forget.


PS For those of you who enjoy the motivational stories and insights you find on The Champion Inside, don’t worry I’ll still be posting there as well. Just click here or go to