Kate & Tom
One of our guests is going to have a baby tomorrow. After delivering the child by C-section, doctors will perform the first of several surgeries to repair a diaphragmatic hernia. Twelve other families are here with newborns—welcomed into the world with compromised hearts, lungs, and other organs that make the first days, weeks, or months of life far more challenging than anyone would wish.
Twenty-nine years ago today, I became a father. Kate’s birth remains the defining moment of my life.
As a parent, you bleed differently. It’s the most amazing and befuddling and awesome of responsibilities. Once you’ve taken a step down that road, the journey never ends—even when your children grow up.
I’ve been lucky. Five hours after she was born, Kate was home, napping on my chest. Since then, she’s spent just four days in a hospital—two for an infection when she was 20, and two after the birth of her son in September. Neither of my other daughters has ever been hospitalized.
Why is one child is born with an affliction that may compromise her for life, and another reaches 29 with barely a scratch?
In my 13 years here, I’ve yet to meet anyone who can answer that question.
What I have come to appreciate is that our supporters fall into two categories: those who’ve been touched by our hospitality (either directly or indirectly), and those (like me) who’ve been fortunate enough never to have required the loving embrace we extend. Together, we persevere—despite our inability to understand the unanswerable mysteries evoked by the cause that unites us.
Today, I celebrate Kate’s birth and her continued health. As I anticipate the arrival of our newest guest tomorrow, I’m reminded that neither of those gifts should ever be taken for granted.
Tom Soma, Executive Director