Three Generations Under One Roof
Sometimes, the most dreadful news can turn into the most joyful experience. In August of 2020, our family was devastated by the news. Our daughter Camille was expecting, and a routine ultrasound showed the baby, a tiny girl named Lila, was in grave danger. Lila was diagnosed with gastroschisis. This means she had an abdominal wall, and her intestines were growing outside her body.
Additionally, she had a cystic kidney. It was shrinking, and she had just one healthy kidney. The other thing was that she was tiny. Each issue was manageable, but combined, it increased the risk of the genetic anomaly becoming fatal.
Camille and her partner, Jarrett, lived in Knoxville, Tenn., where she was finishing her math bachelor’s degree, and Jarrett was a student at an on-campus ministry. My spouse, Nancy, and I knew they would come home to stay with us outside of Nashville. Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital was not far away. Lila was put under the care of a fantastic doctor named Irving Zamora.
On December. 15th, Lila was born. It’s not enough to claim she had been “healthy.” Her intestines were not inside her petite body. It was still just one kidney. No genetic defect could be found, and within a few hours, Dr. Zamora had performed a brand new procedure that repositioned her intestines inside her body without one cut inside her stomach. It was painful. It wasn’t easy. But in the end, it was an incredible experience. The girl we believed would die was still alive.
On Dec. 31, Lila came home to our home. Three generations of our family live together. Our tiny house is in our garage, which is the place where Camille, Jarrett, and Lila were for the majority of the following two and a half years. In March, they welcomed one more child -an extremely healthy baby child known as Ezra, who was nearly the size of an NFL linebacker right from birth.
Over two years, our house was bursting the edges. Two grandparents were full-time workers at their home. Dad and Mom were young. We were also studying and working on the LSAT. Our son, who was in college, Austin, was in and out of school based on his schedule. Our teenage, Naomi, completed middle school and enrolled in high school. Add two grandbabies to the mix and two poorly trained dogs, and we were not the type of place you would visit and find the perfect calm and order.
In the meantime, you could encounter a scene with my two kids playing with their toddler niece around the house. While dogs barked as a grandmother ate, the mom and dad of the toddler were unable to find some time to read. There was never enough food, and the laundry was always overflowing.
One of the greatest joys of old age is watching people you love develop into different roles, like the slowly blooming flowers that show petals in various shades. Your older daughter is an aunt, your younger daughter is an aunt, and your son is an uncle. What about Nancy, whom I first met and became enthralled with over a chat on a college street? She’s a mother and a grandmother, and each new aspect of her character makes me be more in love with her.
There’s nothing quite as satisfying as being a middle-aged grandpa with a child at home. Harsh experiences like experiencing the world in shades of gray with your eyesight slow it; then, all gray has gone suddenly. The brightest colors explode back into your world.
The eyes of Lila became mine. The farm near our home? It’s more than just a farm. There are cows, and they are amazing! The full moon that is up high in the night sky? It must be thinking something. What’s it thinking? When Lila arrived to collect Naomi from her camp, We walked along the dock and pondered the question: Is this the lake where King Triton resides? Did Ariel try kissing Prince Eric in the boat?
Then, just as abruptly, when the journey began and ended, it was over. Our home was initially the safety net for a daughter and a son-in-law terrified by a terrifying diagnosis. It was also a launch platform for the next chapter in their life. The hard work resulted in a payoff. Camille and Jarrett were accepted for admission to law school at the University of Chicago Law School this past weekend. We helped them move into their new home at Hyde Park.
We’ve gone through this exercise before. We’ve sent our kids to colleges. We’ve felt that mixture of sadness and pride and understand how it feels to be incredibly content for our kids while deprived of ourselves. This time, however, there was a change. When we hugged and said our final goodbyes on the balcony of the new home, Lila said brightly, “Are we going home now?”
“Lila,” my wife smiled, “You are home.”
I’m not sharing this story in the form of a family formula or as a statement about culture. We never planned to have a multigenerational home. It was just what happened. In a country that was shattered by so much grief and grief, our family was conscious of our blessings and our privilege. However, the last night before leaving Chicago, I watched my son hugging my grandson, my younger daughter hug my granddaughter, and my wife wrap her arms around Camille as I looked back to that moment in 2020 when all this seemed impossible.
Amid our numerous sorrows, we all realized that beauty had emerged from the wreckage of despair, and joy emerged from grief. A remarkable chapter ended. A new chapter started. Although the house may feel empty, this grandpa’s eyes remain filled with vibrant hues. There’s simply enough gratitude not to feel sadness.
