The boys are nearly 20 months and for the first time in 20 months, they’re acting their age. It seems like a miracle, but that’s really just what supposed to happen. They’re supposed to catch up by two years. We still have some language delays. If he could, Michael would tell you that he has about 20 words. But since each word sounds like “bah” or “doo,” it’s hard to get an accurate count.
Those are just words—they communicate now, something they didn’t do a few months ago. They know how to get your attention (for example, Wagner is particularly good at conveying the message that he has been treated unfairly by his brother). And they “get it.” Michael will try to help unload the dishwasher and if the door is open, will stuff silverware into drawers. Wagner will try to blow his nose.
Aside from having to brush teeth every 2 ½ hours, it really is like they are “normal” kids.
I want to enjoy this. I want to be present for this time. I want to be a “normal” mom (of a preschooler and twin toddlers) as opposed to a mom of kids who need special treatment. And as much as I am grateful to the hospital for their care, I don’t want to have one foot in their world and one foot in ours. Not now. Maybe later.
In about thirty minutes I will drive down to the hospital and tell the Family Advisor Council in person. I will tell them about the twins, thank them for the year I was able to spend with staff as a member of the Partnership Council, and wish them well.
Dear God, I think I just grew wings. I think I might fly to the hospital instead of driving.
Our "Normal" (albeit half-naked) Life