My Son Zachary

GERRY, BLESS HIS brave heart, made steady progress. He was resilient and tough and quietly determined to get the hell out of the intensive care nursery as quickly as he could. After only four days, he even started breathing on his own a little bit, although he still weighed less than two pounds. He looked quite miserable at first, the little lines in his forehead furrowed and furious. It was a classic look of sour brooding, the look of “You know what? This is a royal pain in the ass.” And I knew where it had come from. It was the look of my father, who had passed it on to me, and now there it was in my son, the genetic bundle somehow all there in that tiny life force before me. I knew in that moment that Gerry would make it whatever was put in his way, and doctors would later say Debra and I were spoiled by his remarkable recovery in terms of our expectations for Zachary. I don’t think Gerry today truly comprehends the totality of what he went through, but it was magnificent, his own magnificence.

Oct. 11, 1983

Gerry was up to three pounds and IO ounces this morning, and he is an absolute joy. Chubby, with fat cheeks. Alert, his eyes round and joyous. It is wonderful to watch him become attentive to the world, wake up to it, to watch his eyes dart about, looking at people, trying to distinguish all the different sounds that he hears.

When I first saw Gerry today, I started sobbing. I am not sure why I did. But something powerful and emotional was stirring inside me. I think the juxtaposition of Zachary and Gerry was difficult for me, their being next to each other, their being brothers only three minutes apart at birth but so very different at this stage. I think Gerry, his alertness, his girth, his ability to cry and smack his lips and roll out his tongue when he is hungry, represented all the things that Zachary is not at this point. That difference made me feel sad. I also felt a sudden important urge to pour all my love to Gerry, to give him as much support as possible, not to penalize him because he has done so well.

I think I also cried because Gerry, right now at least, is the only son that I can relate to. And I think it saddened me terribly to realize that I am the father of twins but at this point can only relate to one of them.