Hiatus...

New post is here. So sorry though for this little hiatus I've been on. Not that anyone was really counting on me but to those who do read...accept my apology. It takes a lot of brain power to write personal things that mean so much to you. I just want to convey feelings in the best way I can. So, it can be a little intimidating sometimes. But, here is a new post and I promise not to take so long for the next one! Thank you so much to those who read. I love, love your comments or just knowing you're out there and reading. It's comforting. Enjoy!

Saving the world...

***I want to tell a funny story. A present day story that I want to get written down before I forget. ***
A short time ago, I visited my family in Utah for a couple days. It was fantastic. I endured nineteen hours on a train, arrived in Provo at four in the morning, and left my husband in California to go through the LDS Timpanogos Temple with my youngest brother, Cooper. Totally worth it Coop!! It was an interesting trip, though, that had this recurring theme of the importance of family and having love for one another.
Friday morning, my dad and Cooper had already left to go take care of some preparations for the temple. My mom, Cody, and I were in “fast” mode as to not be late to the temple session. To be late would mean that we would have to wait for the next scheduled session, which would mean totally missing our brother and son going through the temple for the very first time.
As I hurried, I can remember passing by Zach multiple times as he sat on the couch watching television. Every time I staggered by he would gaze at me as if he was waiting for me to say something to him. He had “longing” eyes. That’s the best way I can explain his face. I was ready to go so I had some time to stop and talk to him. “What’s up man?” He asked if we were going to the temple and I told him that we were but that we would meet up with him afterwards and go out to lunch. If you ever want Zach to do anything, food is the ticket. I thought the lunch bit would satisfy his longing to ride along with us but it didn’t, not fully.
About a year ago, Zach was baptized as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Usually, kids are baptized at an age of accountability and as members we believe that to be eight years old. However, at eight years old Zach was still in his own little world of mischief and due to his disability we didn’t feel he was at an age where he could understand what being baptized meant so we waited.
Going through the temple takes a lot of preparation so your heart and mind are edified and equipped to receive those sacred and sanctified ordinances and covenants that take place within its walls. We look at it as an experience of great magnitude and weight and, to put it generally, feel that only certain people who have lived and kept His commandments and ordinances of the gospel can receive the blessings of the temple. (If you want to know more, you can check out lds.org and you can research anything about the LDS church. It’s awesome!).
Zachery is almost 21 years old. For any person his age, the temple is still hard to comprehend and understand. Though, Zach wanted to go with us to the temple, he doesn’t know what that entails and isn’t quite ready to grasp what is taught in the temple. I do know, though, that he can “feel” the importance of it. He feels a need to have purpose, like so many of us do, and that’s where I think some of this desire to tag along comes from. As I stood in the temple that day beside my brothers, parents, and some extended family I felt a peaceful feeling that one day Zach will be there with us. (It makes me so giddy inside thinking about that!)
The next day after the temple, I was preparing to return back to California and back to my husband. Getting ready to go, I searched for “Shmach” (his nickname, just say it like Zach but with a “Sh”) and found him across the street in the neighbor’s yard. He was standing in the shade and as I squinted I realized he had his “garb” on. His “garb” consists of a staff (a tree branch) with a flag (ratted, nasty towel with grease and paint on it from days in the garage), a bandanna on his head, and he’s usually featuring a cape but the hot weather didn’t call for it. As I listened closely to his yelling, it came clear to me what he was saying. “Tifty cents fo da cuntry!” I hear that and rack my brain as to what he is saying. “Fifty cents for the country!” “What? What does that mean?” I thought. I didn’t give it too much thought. Wasn’t the first time Zach left me confused. I called to him, “Zach! I’m leaving!” I said this, totally convinced that he would drop everything and come give me a hug. His reply, “K! (pause) See ya!” Immediately, thoughts run through my head in disbelief. Zach and I have a pretty strong relationship and, honestly, I was a little annoyed to be shrugged off so easily. I thought about it more, though, and he was in full character and realized that nothing else mattered right then. Still, I kept thinking about where he got the “fifty cents for the country” bit but with Zach, sometimes you have to just leave it to the imagination.
I was off. My mom and I had to run some errands and then would go straight to the airport. While out, we realized she had forgotten her purse at home. (On behalf of my mother, our house can be somewhat chaotic and pretty sure this was one of those days. Any mother would have forgotten her purse.) After the errands and almost home, we drove past neighbors’ houses to arrive upon a distinct visual of Zach on a neighbor’s doorstep. He continues to sport his garb (with style) but had something extra as well. He was holding a hat or “Fedora” and as we drive by with the car decelerating, we see the neighbor boy throw some cash into the hat. At this moment the car decelerates very quickly and we come to a complete stop, pick Zach, the peddler, up, and continue on home.
Story goes that Zach had been trudging around to various houses soliciting money. Later on that week multiple people at church let us know what words were actually coming out of Zach’s mouth to convince them to give him money. Supposedly, at each doorstep Zach would ask for fifty cents. “What’s the money for, Zach?” everyone would ask, naturally. He would reply that he, Zachery Swenson, was going to “save the world”.
Of course, we pull into the driveway and my mom goes into interrogation mode while I stand behind her fighting back giggles and hoping Zach doesn’t see my half-smile (he’s very good at spotting those and when he does, he totally feels justified in whatever wrong doing he’s committed). At this point, my mom and I could care less what the money was for, he just needed to turn right around and return it. There were only a couple bucks in change but, obviously, he needed to know that asking people for money was not okay.
At church, everyone is so, so kind and good-natured when it comes to Zach. In fact, I could probably go as far to say that I’m pretty sure everyone who knows Zach loves him. Whether they’ve said it out loud to my mom and dad or whether through their actions, which speak volumes, most everyone has been touched and affected by Zach. He’s this man/boy with a heart the size of Texas and a love that, honestly, has no boundaries whatsoever.
Sometimes Zach will do things that are completely random, illogical, and frequently leaves you dumbfounded. But sometimes, he will do things that come from a deeper place within his core. Whatever it is, it may come off as just another one of his crazy antics, like this story, but I truly believe that there is meaning behind it.
Those few people that had this boy with Down Syndrome knock on their door, ask for money, and proceed to say that, “I’m going to save the world”, on the surface, may seem pretty silly and comical. As I dig deeper, though, it’s rather beautiful and sweet. Zach wanted to attend the temple. He looked upon the family as the hustle and bustle enfolded and understood that Cooper was about to do something “big”, something that was a step in going on a mission. We all had a purpose that day. Cooper, especially, had a purpose that day. Zach, well, it’s just not time…yet. He wasn’t upset about it, and he knew, thank goodness, that he would be apart of the most important thing, lunch! He was okay. But, as the events of the next morning would take place, it makes sense to me that Zach was carrying on in his “purpose” to “save the world”.
Like I said, anyone who comes into contact with Zach is affected in a positive way. He has a deep love for people with no boundaries and hardly any sense of judgment. I know that he’s on this earth with a purpose and that is to touch peoples’ lives, to love them. I know that if I strive to have a greater capacity to love that I can help in his cause to “save the world”.
When Zach arrived home from returning the money, we found a couple dimes and nickels in his pocket. Please accept our apologies to those who did not receive a full refund. When my mom asked why there was still money in his pocket he replied that he really wanted a Mountain Dew. It’s his favorite drink. So, thank you for contributing to “saving the world”. Something has to keep this guy going and energized. He’s got plenty of work ahead of him.
In the Doctrine and Covenants there is a scripture I want to share. The verses are in Chapter 18, verses 10 and 15. It’s Jesus Christ speaking and giving revelation to, then prophet, Joseph Smith, Oliver Cowdery, and David Whitmer. It dates back to June of 1829 when the church was still in the process of being restored. It reads,

10 Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God;
15 And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save It be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the Kingdom of my Father!

Chapter 5

Not long after Zach was born, my mom recalled an experience she had about four months prior. Remembering she had wrote the story down in her journal, she went through her nightstand to retrieve it. The entry reads,

May 28,1989

Last Tuesday, Cody and A.J. were outside in front of the house playing. A neighbor boy walked over to them with a box of six, one day old wild baby birds. He had raided a nest, gave them to my boys, and then quickly left to his nearby home. When the boys brought them in I couldn’t believe it. I was so angry this boy had done what he did and furious that he gave them to the boys. They were cold and hungry and I think the reason I was so mad is I knew what I was in for. I was in for a lot of work and heartache. As hard as you may try to not get attached, I always do. I kept thinking with all that has happened, “Why would these birds end up here? Why couldn’t someone else take care of them? I don’t’ need my heart broken right now.”
People that I saw that next day kept saying, “Just don’t feed them and they will die,” or “Flush them down the toilet.” I couldn’t do either. It’s just totally against my nature to do that. As long as they were alive I had to try. The next five days I had to feed them hourly. They were so cute. Slowly one by one they died. The one that really made me sad was the last that had lived two and one half days all by his self. It almost seemed like there was hope that he would make it. His little body even began to get feathers. I cried and the thought of, “Why did he die?” was bouncing around in my head. Throughout this experience I thought that my Heavenly Father was trying to teach me something. You know that feeling during an experience that you just know there is more to it. I pondered and prayed, “Is it that if I tried hard it would pay off? Would something good come from my hard work?” I was hoping a bird would survive, but all I was left with was sorrow.
All night and most of the next day I was so puzzled by the experience because I felt in my heart I was being taught something but couldn’t seem to understand. Finally I went to my room to lie down and rest. The baby was kicking so much that I could not fall asleep. I started thinking when my thoughts came quickly to the little birds. Unexpectedly, it came to me that there was a lesson taught. Maybe not exactly what I thought it should be, but a good lesson. I was so mad when the boys brought those birds in because I didn’t want to experience the heartache. I could have just let them die but that’s running away, not facing the challenge. This is life. Our trials are not always easy and are most certainly filled with heartache. They don’t always have a happy ending but the things we learn and the joy we receive from trial and error is, to me, totally worth the heartache.

Zachery was born just four months after this experience. My mom says, “I am so grateful for a loving Heavenly Father who has tutored me all my life and lead me down life’s road. He has always tried to prepare me with life experience. I am so, so grateful.”

Chapter 4

Zach was kept in the hospital nursery for ten days. On the eighth day my mom was finally able to hold him. During the day, mom would be home to spend time with us and after tucking us into bed, would race back to the hospital to be with Zach. Right before Halloween he came home, surrounded by those who loved him most. In the days to come, loved ones, friends, and ward members were being so kind and compassionate to my parents and our whole family. Pat Hoover and Stacey Phillips, friends of ours, were always taking the bigger kids for the day so my mom could rest and learn how to get a grip on some of Zach’s struggles as a baby. Without the support of these amazing people, it would have made life so much more difficult for my parents. Growing up, I’ve seen my mom do so much for other people and be anyone’s friend, and I know that this is why friends, family, and acquaintances were so willing to offer a hand. Both mom and dad are so grateful to them.

My name is Caitlin Sparks, and with the help of my mom, Olivia Swenson, we want to document our family’s life in the presence of Zach. From the time Zach was mobile, leading up to the age of seven, he managed to make headlines in our house almost everyday. The stories are endless, hilarious, sad, and stressful but have shaped and molded each member of our family into the people they are today. I want to take these stories and document them. This story of his birth may not sound all that interesting to you but it is just the beginning. I know that Zach is one of God’s most choice spirits and like our Savior, was born into an imperfect world to gain a body. In no way am comparing him to the Savior, but I do know that Zach is so special. Throughout his life, he has only taught and touched those around him. I also know that there are so many women and families out there who are struggling with the birth and development of a child with a disability. If hearing some of these stories and experiences help’s one person, then that’s all we could ask for. Best part of it all, you will laugh, there’s no doubt about that. Forgive my writing skills and stick around for more stories to come. Enjoy.

Chapter 3

Once my dad was informed they brought us in to fill us in on the news. Zach had been in the “special care nursery” so the whole family made the trek a couple halls away to see him. His breathing was not very strong and he had tubes coming out of him left and right. Even with all that, he was beautiful. To this day, he’s so beautiful. While visiting my new, baby brother a bizarre thing happened. The hospital began to shake. The floor tiles were doing this rolling thing that just looked unnatural. It lasted about 10 seconds and was not very strong. When it ended, we didn’t even give it another thought. Later that evening we would find out that it was one of the strongest earthquakes in U.S. History.

It was time to go home. My dad wanted to get over to our grandparent’s house to let them know about Zach. When we arrived, they were not home yet from a temple trip. Our great-grandparents, though, lived right behind them so my dad went to talk to them. Talking to my Grandma Nelly, he informed her of Zach having Down Syndrome. When he was done telling her all about it she said, “Todd, I always knew the Lord loved you, but I never knew how much until now.” My dad felt the Spirit wrap his arms around him and was so grateful for what my grandma had said. To this day, he says that line is engrained in his mind, something he will never forget.

Later on that evening is when the footage of the earthquake began. October 17, 1989, the “Quake of ‘89” took place. The earthquake struck the San Francisco Bay Area, measuring 6.9 on the Richter scale, killing 63 California citizens and leaving a path of devastation and destruction. My mom sat and watched in her hospital bed, trying to suppress those post-partum emotions but could not contain herself. Glued to the screen, she watched as they continued to pull lifeless, American people from beneath the rubble. As she cried in that hospital room, a nurse walked in to see what was the matter. “Why are you crying?” she asked curtly, almost annoyed. My mom let her know that she was upset over what had happened and that she was feeling really emotional. The nurse responded to this sorrowful, weeping mother, “Well, if you want someone to talk to, I’ll go find someone.” Before my mom could even answer, the nurse had already left the room. Nobody came, but that was okay for my mom. I think she just needed a good cry. She continued to watch the documented destruction. The earthquake was tragic, but while watching the footage and sitting there alone in her hospital bed, my mom knew and felt that she would be okay. “I can do this!” she thought. Her son was here, alive, and healthy. Though he has a disability, she knew that the Lord had blessed her and trusted her with one of His most choice spirits. With love and gratitude in her heart, she couldn’t help but feel honored to have him teach and bless our lives for eternity.

Chapter 2

Monday came with trepidation. My mom was so anxious about this unfamiliar procedure. But in the back of her mind was that prayer that the baby had turned on its own. My mom lay on the hospital bed. The doctor entered and began to feel her stomach. As he felt around he said, “What a good baby!” My mom’s notion was correct. This angel baby had turned! Fears were put to rest and an overwhelming sense of relief took their place. She went home that Monday morning without the procedure and with a new conviction that all is well. Later on that evening, though, my mom went into labor.

* * *

It was time for the baby to be born. The on-call doctor, a short, Italian man named Dr. Lancelotti, went on to encourage my mom to push with everything she had. Trying to be “Mister Caring Doctor”, Dr. Lancelotti kept talking to my mom to ease the tension, if that’s even possible. “What will you name it if it’s a boy or a girl?” He asked. My mom answered in a aggravated tone, “Can’t you see I’m trying to breath, here. Hee-hee-hee-whoo, hee-hee-hee-whooo.” The questions stopped, but a common tune rang from the doctor’s mouth. A song that marks the day of birth as a joyous, celebrated day. “Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you…” Dr. Lancelotti continued to sing as my mom gave that final push. At that celestial moment, one of the sweetest, most choice spirits entered the room and not even a second later, the singing, coming from Dr. Lancelotti’s mouth, stopped. My little brother was whisked away to the nursery and Dr. Lancelotti could not get out of that hospital room quick enough. An uneasy, unsettled feeling quickly spread through my mom’s body from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. It felt like her heart was in her stomach. Even though there was so much hustle and bustle going on around her, her mind was in a different place. She was with Zach. It was raining that day.

Hours went by and my mom had not seen her son yet. After giving birth there were some complications where the nurses could not get the bleeding to stop. My mom kept passing out and all she could think about was her perfect little man in the other room. Eventually, the bleeding stopped and nurses told her that she really needed to rest and that she would see her son soon enough. The next morning breakfast came along with a nurse to ask my mom a couple questions. “I’ve noticed that your arms have scars and marks on them. You’re not an IV drug user are you, Olivia?” The nurse had a look of cold, repugnance across her face. “No, I’m not, but when I’m nervous or stressed I have a habit of picking at my arms. That’s where those marks come from. These last couple days have been pretty stressful.” The nurse looked on and left the room with an animal like groan in response to my mom’s statement. “What was that all about?!” my mom thought. She was mystified by the conversation and couldn’t help thinking what brought it on.

Not long after the nurse left the room Dr. Tedford, our family doctor, entered. “Okay I just had to make sure it was you. Olivia, I will be right back. I need to set some nurses straight. I’ll be right back.” A couple minutes went by when Dr. Tedford returned. He sat at the foot of my mom’s hospital bed and began small talk with her. But, something inside my mom knew that he wasn’t just there to check on her. “Olivia, Zach is doing well. His breathing is a bit sloppy but that should correct itself in just a few days. But, we believe he has Trisomy 21.” “That’s Down Syndrome, right?” She asked. He continued to explain exactly what it meant. It means that Zach was born with all or part of an extra chromosome. Anyone born with that extra chromosome is left with some impairment of cognitive and physical abilities. Also, there are certain facial characteristics associated with Down Syndrome. Dr. Tedford left after talking to my mom for some time, trying to give her the basic knowledge of what condition had affected her son. She sat there, alone in her room, feeling overwhelmed and afraid. Being the proactive woman that she is, the thought that stood out in her mind was that she needed to get educated. She says today, “Looking back, I had no idea what this would require of me and of my family and I am so grateful. But, I knew that the Lord had my back and that, without a doubt, I was not alone in this.”

My dad came with the whole family, so excited to see our new little brother. Cody was seven, A.J. was five and I was almost three. Nurses hadn’t brought Zach in yet so my mom took that moment to have a talk with my dad. We sat outside the hospital room while my mom and dad, with their unwavering strength, discussed Zach’s disability. My dad was surprised by the news but was, and always has been, so strong and faithful. Through the years to come, the strength and faith of our family would be tested. A family bond is strong and divine and through the gospel of Jesus Christ our family would climb and overcome trials that, at the time, seemed impossible and insurmountable.

Chapter 1

In the middle of the night, on Monday, October 16, 1989, Todd Zachery Swenson was born. He was early, not being due until the 28th of that same month, but he came weighing 8 pounds 15 ounces. Thank goodness he came early! My mom, Olivia, was in labor at Sierra Vista Regional Hospital, located in San Luis Obispo, CA. Four hours went by and most mothers can relate when I say that you will do anything, be in labor for however long it takes, and push no matter how painful it may be, to hold that most perfect, beautiful baby in your arms.

* * *

Events leading up to the birth of my little brother were peculiar. My mom had another of the scheduled prenatal visits on the Friday before Zach was born. As was discovered at previous appointments, the baby was still in the breech position. When a baby is breech it means that they are upside down, not in the normal birthing position. His head was up by my mom’s ribs and every time she tried to bend over she couldn’t, having a human head thrust into her diaphragm and ribs. It was crucial that the baby turned or else a Cesarean Section would need to be performed when it came time for the actual birth. An appointment was made for the next Monday to conduct an external version procedure. The doctor will try to turn the baby by pushing against my mom’s stomach with motions that are proven to be safe and will, hopefully, help turn the baby. Before my mom left the doctor’s office she pondered upon what the doctor had said to her earlier. He said that, in general, it’s instinctual for babies to turn themselves when they are breech. My mom went back into the room to ask the doctor a quick question. “If it’s instinctual, then could it not know? Could something be wrong and it does not know to turn itself?” she asked. A mother’s instincts are always accurate. When the doctor replied she could tell he was a bit caught off guard by the question. He replied, “I can’t believe you asked me that! Well, I guess, but we’ll just hope that it does know.” The question seemed plausible to my mom.

That night my mom told my dad of the breech baby in her womb and what was discussed about it possibly not knowing to turn itself. My dad did what every supportive, caring husband would do and gave her comfort and reassurance that everything would be okay. He said, “Everything is going to be fine Liv, but if its not, we will handle it.” That night, while the house was quiet and sound, my mom lay awake with countless thoughts running through her mind. The “rock” that she is, though, she knew that what my dad said was true. With the Lord on their side, “…we will handle it.”

The next day was a standard Saturday, filled with soccer games. It was always a day we looked forward to as a family. Growing up I can remember being on the field with a sideline full of parents and families chanting and yelling at their kids. Not even having to look to the sideline, I could always pick out the voices of my mom, dad, and my brothers. While at A.J.’s soccer game, my mom undid her beach chair to sit and watch him play. She bent over and felt no pain. To confirm her impression, she bent over again and again to see if she was right. No pain. “Todd, Todd, I think the baby has turned!”