When twenty-four-year-old Patricia Clarke found out she was carrying her second child, in 1983, an amazing adventure started. Her family was notorious for producing enormous babies, so she had a sneaking suspicion that her child would be a little larger than average. However, she had no idea how large her child would end up being.
Kevin Robert Clark is the baby boy Patricia gave birth to. At birth, he was unusually large—more than sixteen pounds! This makes him possibly the largest infant in New Jersey as well as the largest baby ever born at Community Memorial Hospital. Kevin was thankfully healthy even though he was too big for a typical crib and newborn clothes.
People were initially drawn to Kevin because of his size. He even made appearances on TV programs like “Saturday Night Live” and “Good Morning America,” and he was widely discussed across the nation.
But Kevin’s development didn’t end there. He continued to develop, reaching a height of 5 feet 7 inches by the time he was 12 years old. He stood six feet five inches tall in junior high. Kevin found comedy in the fact that others were now enquiring about his height. “I like to joke that I’m 5-foot-21,” he said. I inquire about miniature golf when someone asks if I play basketball.
Kevin is 39 years old and has a height of 6 feet 9 inches. He was in the military before and resides with his 6-foot-6 wife and Great Dane. He claims to have accepted his unusual size and grown accustomed to being larger than nearly everyone else.
Kevin’s life has been an adventure in navigating attention and people’s curiosity, but he appears to be doing well. He’s a fantastic example of living a confident life and accepting what makes you unique. We are very inspired by Kevin’s tale and hope that all of his future pursuits turn out well!
Yesterday, I found a sandwich packed for my work lunch along with a note from our 10-year-old foster son
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen, a comforting scent that usually signaled the start of a hectic workday. But yesterday, it was different. Yesterday, the kitchen held a quiet magic, a warmth that transcended the simple act of brewing coffee.
On the kitchen table, amidst the usual clutter of keys and mail, sat a neatly packed lunch bag. Beside it, a folded piece of paper, its edges slightly crumpled. A note.
My heart skipped a beat as I recognized the familiar, slightly slanted handwriting. It was Colton’s. Our 10-year-old foster son.
We’d opened our home to fostering after years of battling infertility. The empty rooms of our house had echoed with a longing that no amount of well-meaning advice could fill. We wanted to give a child a chance, a safe haven, a loving family.
Colton had arrived a year ago, a whirlwind of boundless energy and insatiable curiosity. He was a dreamer, a boy who found wonder in the simplest things. He loved riding his bike, exploring the neighborhood, and most of all, he loved helping in the kitchen, his eyes sparkling with the ambition of a future chef.
The note was simple, written in his characteristic, slightly misspelled script: “Lunch for you. Have a good day. Love Colton.”
And inside the lunch bag, a perfectly assembled sandwich, wrapped in wax paper, a small bag of chips, and a bruised but perfectly ripe apple.
It wasn’t just a sandwich. It wasn’t just a note. It was a testament to the bond we’d built, a tangible expression of the love that had blossomed between us.
For months, I’d felt a shift within me, a growing certainty that Colton wasn’t just a foster child, he was our son. The way he’d seamlessly woven himself into our lives, the way he’d filled the empty spaces in our hearts, it was undeniable.
That note, that simple gesture of love, solidified it. It was a quiet affirmation of what I already knew.
I shared the note with my wife, Sarah, her eyes welling up with tears as she read it. We looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between us. It was time.
Today, we made the decision official. We’re going to adopt Colton.
The paperwork is already underway, the legal process a mere formality compared to the emotional journey we’ve already undertaken. We’re planning a surprise for him, a small celebration to mark this momentous occasion.
We’ve decorated his room with balloons and streamers, a banner proclaiming “Welcome to your forever home!” We’ve baked his favorite chocolate chip cookies, and Sarah has even prepared a special dinner, a culinary masterpiece that would make any aspiring chef proud.
Tonight, when Colton returns from school, we’ll gather around the kitchen table, the same table where I found his note, and we’ll tell him the news.
I imagine his eyes widening with disbelief, then filling with tears of joy. I imagine him running into our arms, his small frame shaking with emotion.
And I know, with absolute certainty, that this is the best decision we’ve ever made. We’re not just giving Colton a home; he’s giving us a family, a love that’s richer and more profound than we ever imagined.
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