"Mike"

4-29-09
I have so many wonderful memories of Zach. He was such an “easy” kid! I thanked God every day for giving me such a great kid to take care of. Of course there were ups and downs and like any teenager he could be moody. However, when I watched other kids his age interact with their parents, I considered myself incredibly lucky. The reason I’m writing this is so that Brenna, Zach’s younger sister by 9 ¾ years, will have a chance to get to know him better and so I won’t forget our time together. I can’t imagine how I could possibly forget, but there’s so much of my past that I don’t remember that I just can’t take that chance. Also, by writing, I hope to remember some things that aren’t at the forefront of my mind.
Zach was born at Mary Greeley Hospital in Ames, Iowa on December 17, 1991. Because Zach’s dad and I lived in a small rural town so far from the hospital, we opted to have labor induced. We didn’t want to chance a major ice or snowstorm slowing us down during labor. We were especially cautious since this was our first child. I didn’t realize it at the time, but Zach shared December 17th as a birth date with my fraternal grandmother and my cousin, Steven. My grandpa always believed we chose that date on purpose in honor of my grandma. I just let him believe that since it made him happy.
One day, when Zach was still very small, just a few months old, Zach and I visited my grandpa in Davenport. We talked and laughed for awhile and then it was time to go. I didn’t even realize that Grandpa hadn’t held Zach that day. I had Zach all bundled up and ready to go when Grandpa said, “I’ll hold Mike the next time you come.” I looked confused, “Mike? What did you say?” He pointed at Zach, “yeah, you know, Mike.” Apparently he didn’t like Zach’s first name and opted to refer to him by his middle name, Michael. I laughed and hugged him tightly and said, “o.k., Grandpa.” It was the last time I saw Grandpa Dreyer alive. I have regretted ever since, not taking the time to unbundle Zach and stay just a little longer so Grandpa could have held him. However, the memory of Grandpa calling him “Mike” still makes me laugh.