It’s another poetry drop. At this point, I might as well start calling this substack Poetry and Parenting.
Forty years ago today I was born. Forty years ago today, I was dying. Born with a collapsed lung, I was rushed to the Children’s Hospital in Washington, DC. My parents were told I had a ten percent chance of survival. They placed me on an experimental heart-lung machine called ECMO. Defying all the odds, I was breathing on my own.
Growing up, I would hear stories about how much of a fighter I was. Small but loud. Supposedly, I kept ripping the IVs out of my hands. The machine left me with a large scar on my neck. People would ask me about it all the time.
First, my mom would tell the story, and later I’d tell it. Since I was young, I often thought of my parents in that moment. A young couple, newly married, firstborn, and the doctor says he may not survive. Must have been hard.
When my mom would tell the story, she sounded so impressed that I lived. She’d tell people that I was one of the first kids on an ECMO machine that didn’t have brain damage, but then tease that no one could tell. Still, I was her miricle baby. She always made me feel like I could do anything. But I’d think too much and do too little.
I had a great childhood living in Americana (unreleased only on Facebook). Built a great family and business. I discovered what love is. I changed into the man I am supposed to be without leaving the old me behind.
Now I’m forty and I’m still dying. But I keep winning the battles. Still, having to get a hip replacement at such a young age sucks. The pain keeps me from sleeping. Not being able to run with my son hurts more. But I’m still alive, and I'll get better, and tomorrow is bright.
I know a lot of people don’t understand me. I don’t understand them either. I still think a lot, but now I do a lot too. Not because I want to, but because I was led to.
Shortly after turning thirty, I started to feel empty. I was struggling as a husband and father. I made a plan. I went to church. And he saved me.
Now I’m forty, and while I feel weak. I’m stronger than ever. You may think I’m crazy, but I think anything is possible.
You may not understand how representation will change your life, but I do, and that responsibility led me to change myself so people like my mom and dad, grandmother, and friends, aunts, and uncles, wife, and children could have a voice in the change.
I wrote another poem because it’s who I am. It’s like life, a roller coaster of emotion, broken up into different parts, layered on top of each other to tell a bigger story.
Enjoy.
This is Forty
My body aches
My arms shrink
I run round
School to school
I read too late
I limp too early
I can’t sleep
My brain burns
I’m catching up with life
While life is catching with me
Don’t fret
I’m a success
Ambitious kids
Loving wife
I am Forever home
But I scream
I yell
I love
But I lose my love
I carry a lot
But I’d never let go
Because he said I could do it
And who am I to tell him no
I may spell like Jackson
And Cry like Boehner
But I think like Madison
And write like Jefferson
I talk like my dad
And I love like my mom
I’ll have the difficult conversation
And I’ll cool down
I’ll be soft
But I won’t be pushed around
I met God
He said hello
He forgave me
I forgave him
I solve problems
But I make them too
I can teach and learn
But sometimes I just ignore
I’m surrounded by people who hold me accountable
I return the favor
I don’t always love them the way I want to
Mainly because I carry too much
I’m just so tired
I refuse to let it go
Because he said I could do it
And who am I to tell him no
If this is 40
I can’t wait for 50
Because from 30 to 40 I am a new man
A better man
The man I was meant to be
The man I want to be
I wanted to set it down
Lessen the load
Go back to the early days
Put the books away
Let my brain cool
Laugh at the Simpsons
But he said I could do it
And who am I to tell him no
He’d send me an email from a past customer
A phone call here
And a text message there
Saying he’s watching
Quit the whining and get back to work
You can breath on your own
40 is why 435
But 50 could be anything
Maybe a sci-fi book
Or a comedy tour
Maybe grand kids
Or Maybe I’m speaker
But either way
I'll still be me
I’ll still yell, but less
I'll love more
So this is 40
And Here’s to 40 more
As refenced in my poem, I have been blessed by so much support from friends and family along this journey. Thank you so much. You have no idea how much its meant to me.
If you want to help a little more, if you want to be part of the represenation conversation, check out www.why435.org and donate $10, $50, or $100. I hate asking for money, but it’s just another one of those things I have to do that I don’t want to do.
If you want to know more about the poem, give me a call or drop a question in the comments.
Peace, Love, and Representation,
Jeff Mayhugh