Our story, and this journey, began five and a half years ago with the birth of our son, Bower. He was born eight weeks premature, and though his umbilical cord was in a knot and he weighed just short of four pounds, his birth generally went relatively smoothly. He was placed in the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) and was doing well. My wife, Jen, was discharged from the hospital and we went home to await the time when Bower could join us. Two days later, Jen suddenly collapsed and hemorrhaged in our home. She quickly lost much of the blood in her body, said good-bye to me, asked that I raise Bower right and tell him that his Mom loved him, then turned white and faded out. The EMTs, who had bravely travelled through a severe ice storm, arrived just in time to save her life. Jen fully recovered, but our journey had only just begun.
A week later Bower developed a severe intestinal infection in the NICU associated with his prematurity. His condition deteriorated rapidly and Jen and I were holding him when he stopped breathing and effectively died. The gifted and caring nurses and doctors at Mission Hospital resuscitated Bower and later told us that he would probably live if his stomach did not rupture. We would know that his stomach had ruptured if his body turned green. We spent a harrowing 46 days living in the intensive care unit with Bower, facing one setback after another and wondering if our beloved son would ever make it home.
When Bower was eventually discharged from the NICU, we thought all was finally well. It was not. We would later learn that at some point during Bower's trials he had developed cerebral palsy, which is essentially brain damage caused by a lack of blood flow to the brain. Severe seizures followed later, causing further damage.
Today, at five and a half years old, Bower cannot walk, talk or feed himself, and he is nearly blind. Nevertheless, he is also one of the most amazing kids you may ever have the good fortune to meet. His smile radiates pure joy. He laughs continuously. Despite all of his disabilities, surgeries, and the other challenges he’s faced, Bower is undoubtedly one of the happiest, most driven, and consistently optimistic people I know. Would that we all had as much spirit as this small child. Despite all his challenges, Bower recently learned to ride a bike. And that accomplishment is what has inspired this ride.
Our experience with Bower has taught me incredible things about the human spirit. Through all of the turmoil over the past five and a half years, through all of the hospitals, surgeries, grim prognoses, and fear, there has been one constant - a constellation of wonderful people who have helped us along this unexpected journey. If you have ever wondered whether the world is generally good, know that it is. I have seen the amazing ability of the human spirit to transform what appears to be a burden, whether theirs or that of others, into a blessing. This ride is a salute to, and in celebration of, that fundamental truth. And for that reason it is not my own journey, but that of every father, mother, brother, sister and child.
As much as I love my son and admire his spirit, I would never wish his problems on any parent or child. That is why I am undertaking this ride: to raise money to fund research that will help us better understand and hopefully one day prevent cerebral palsy, an affliction that affects 1 in every 268 children born. I cannot guarantee that I will finish this 2,100 mile ride, only that I will try my best and leave everything on the road … just as Bower would.
- Chris Lyman, Bower's Dad
Bower's Trike Ride
