Challenges Put in Perspective

By Dan Shaughnessy, Globe Columnist | October 26, 2007

Something tells me Rockies manager Clint Hurdle is a guy who can deal with a 13-1 loss in the first game of the World Series. He knows it's not the end of the world. He knows there are other things more important. He has all the perspective any baseball man will ever need.

He has his 5-year-old daughter, Madison.

Madison Hurdle has Prader-Willi Syndrome, a rare genetic disorder. It makes Madison different from other kids. Symptoms include low muscle tone, development delays, morbid obesity, cognitive disabilities, and behavioral problems. She also suffers epileptic seizures. During the playoffs, when the Rockies were in Arizona, Madison developed pneumonia and went to Children's Hospital in Denver. Hurdle's wife, Karla, kept it a secret from her husband for a few days. Madison is back home now.

Before the World Series, Hurdle was asked, "What has your daughter Madison taught you?"

"This doesn't need to be a Dr. Phil show," the manager started, "but as I said before, her purpose in life, and I think the purpose of many special-needs children in people's lives, can be a dynamic, that if you don't have one, you'll have no understanding. It's a very special fraternity or sorority to enter into. You don't raise your hand and get to the front of the list. But once it happens, you're in."
It's a big club. Every family is handed challenges, some more than others. Talk to Doug and Laurie Flutie about their autistic son, Dougie. Parents of a girl like Madison learn to lean on other parents who have kids with similar disorders. They learn from their children and they teach the rest of us. And they tend not to get hung up on things like a lopsided loss in a World Series game.

Think Clint Hurdle is going to lose sleep because of hate mail, lineup second-guessers on talk radio, or a humiliating loss in a World Series game? Think again. He knows what really matters.

It was, therefore, no surprise that Hurdle and his players said all the right things after Wednesday's beating and again before Game 2 last night at Fenway Park.
"We're playing in the World Series," said veteran Todd Helton. "We're not going to hang our heads no matter what happens in this thing."

"We know exactly where we are," said the manager. "We know exactly what happened last night. We lived it, we wore it, and we've showered it off. Short-term memory is very, very important in this game. One of the strengths of our ball club, as I mentioned, is the ability to honestly self-evaluate and move on. We didn't do that many things well last night."

He knows this is only baseball. He knows that on a daily basis, his wife is the one with the stressful, high-pressure job. The caretaker of a child with Madison's symptoms doesn't get a lot of free time to read the newspaper or go out for lunch with the other moms. It's nonstop vigilance and exhaustion. But the rewards can be great.

"It's like many things in life," said Hurdle. "You look for good, you're going to find good; you look for bad, you're going to find bad. There's a period where you need to get through the grieving, the challenges, that big picture of the unknown, and then, you know, it's kind of like, 'How do you eat an elephant?' One bite at a time. With Maddie, it's one day at a time."

One day at a time. With no promise or guarantee that it will ever get better. Just great joy in the smallest of triumphs.

"At the end of the day, Karla and I look at each other and say, 'Did Maddie have a good day?' " said Hurdle. "And when Maddie has a good day, everybody has a good day."

So maybe Maddie had a good day Wednesday. And maybe when Clint Hurdle talked to his wife after the 13-1 beating at Fenway, he heard about smiles from his little girl. And maybe that was quite a bit more important than how badly his team looked in the first game of the World Series.

Hard not to root for a guy like that.

Dan Shaughnessy is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at dshaughnessy@globe.com.

I Do Know Now

I Do Know Now
by Kim Morrell,
President, MFH2

I knew when I was carrying you that you were special.
I knew when you were born that you would have afflictions.
I knew when everyone made a fuss over you, they'd see
your differences.
I knew when I got condolences from strangers that it was
the beginning.
I knew when you went to school, you would have to learn
differently.
I knew when you were invited to parties and events that I
would have to go with you.
I knew that I had to raise you on my own to do the best job
possible.
I knew I would get flack about being a single mother by
choice.
I knew what I was doing.
I knew our family was different
I knew that I was the only person that could raise you.
I did not know that you would be my life's greatest
teacher.
I did not know that our ordinary would be everyone else's
extraordinay.
I did not know how much fun I would have raising you.
I do know now.

Directed to Dependence

Be careful of what you ask for. I reached a point in my life where I felt totally lost and was searching for direction. I feared that I would miss God's instructions so I asked for great, big, neon signs. What I did not expect was to have these signs fall and hit me squarely on the head! I knew that some changes needed to be made in my life but I did not fully grasp the level of change I would be facing.

My life had not turned out the way I planned in any way. My college education remained unused as career paths disappeared during the years I spent at home caring for two children with special needs. I believed, however; that I had everything under control. I tackled each new diagnosis, plan and task with sheer will and determination. This worked for years but as I handled more and more things on my own, my dependence on God became ceased to exist.

My way of life came to an abrupt stop on a Tuesday evening in September of 2006. My youngest son, Riley, was seven years old and during this short lifetime, he had already faced the challenges of Autism, Type I Diabetes, and a Seizure Disorder. Riley had recently become an escape artist and this prompted me to install locks that required a key to enter and exit outdoors. My relief over my son's safety lasted only one night.

Appointments, therapy, and school were finished for the day and my oldest son, Zachary,headed outside to care for our two dogs. It only took a minute or two for me to realize that I did not hear Riley in the house. A yell from me brought Zachary and my husband, Brady, into the search for Riley. Brady headed down to the highway while I searched through the house, but Riley was nowhere in sight. Zachary mentioned a neighbor's pool and Riley's extreme love of the water. You can not see the pool from our house and I was at a loss as to how Riley would even know the pool was there. However, Brady and I headed next door.

As we rounded a curve in the driveway, I spotted a small pile of clothes on the ground. Brady sped past me as my heart and mind grappled with the unthinkable. The next sound I heard was Brady yelling for someone to call 911! I then turned and passed the message on to my mother who was standing in the doorway of my house. With a heavy heart, I made my way to my son's side.

I will never forget the sight of my baby on the cement beside the pool. He was blue. Aneducation, that I thought had been wasted, gave me the skills to perform CPR and God gave me the strength. I cried, prayed, and executed chest compressions as thoughts concerning Riley's survival raced through my mind. Pool water continued to pour out of my son's lungs and hopelessness descended upon my spirit. I cried out for God's help and Riley's heart began to beat faintly. He was trying to breathe on his own when rescue teams arrived minutes later to provide transportation to the hospital. I thanked God for each flashing light that appeared in my yard that day.

Riley was admitted into the pediatric intensive care ward and I entered wait and see territory. The next 24 hours would tell if my child would require a ventilator to keep him alive. X-rays and tests progressively worsened and defeat pounded on the hospital room door. I sat beside Riley's bed and thought of all the love and care I had poured into my baby boy.

God chose this moment to remind me of a few things. Memories of Riley's dedication to Godflooded my mind. I also recalled promises that God had made to me indicating that each of my sons would be an awesome display of glory. The only thing that was lacking was my willingness to totally trust and depend on my Heavenly Father.

I prayed and earnestly expressed my proper awareness of God's love, power, and provisions. As this prayer passed through my lips, a scene unfolded in my mind:

I saw a great, roaring force eliminating darkness, pain and death. .I thought it must be the angels I had asked God for, but then, I realized this huge mass of power was not made up of angels. I heard God say, "I'll take care of this myself!" After the wake passed, it was very peaceful and quiet. Jesus walked behind God's power with Riley in his arms. Jesus said to me, "Don't worry about his strength, he can have mine."

Peace became my close companion. I knew my son would be fine. Doctors and nurses watched in awe as Riley's condition turned around. Plans for a ventilator became a distant memory. Within the first "wait and see" 24 hours, my son: got out of bed and walked to the bathroom; made requests for pizza and spaghetti; and told his mom that he loves her a whole bunch. Riley was back in school on Monday.

Several smaller miracles took place in the midst of Riley's awesome recovery. Each individual, who had a part to play, was in exactly the right place in order to supply the help my son needed:

*Brady was at home and awake in order to get Riley out of the pool. My husband worked third shift and was usually sleeping in the afternoon.

*Zachary knew just where to find Riley. This saved valuable minutes!

*Mom was standing in the doorway so I did not have to travel all the way back to my house in order to call 911. CPR could be started right away!*

The landlord of the house in front of us was present to flag the rescue teams down.

*The first rescue team that arrived on the scene had been only two blocks away. It took them 1 minute and 45 seconds to travel the distance after receiving the call from dispatch.

*Not one of the Pediatric Intensive Care nursing team, who took care of Riley during the crucial first 24 hours, was scheduled to be present. Everyone on the schedule had called in sick.

*Riley was the talk of the hospital. Complete strangers stopped us to let us know that another church would be added to our prayer team as soon as a phone was within reach.

I know for certain that God vigilantly maintains his close, loving, presence with each one of us. My total and joyful dependence on God has been restored. Hearts and attitudes have been forever changed. But, most importantly, God's glory has been displayed, once again, for all of heaven and earth to witness.