A Tale of Two Cities (kiddies)

I belonged to a Mom’s group when my first son was born – we met through the Health region every week for a couple of months, and after the program was over, we decided to stick together because we enjoyed each others company so much.

We were all new Moms, ranging from early 20’s to a couple of us oldies who were in our mid 30’s.  Every week we got together to commiserate about our babies, husbands, and life in general.  We were a pretty tight knit group and relied on each other for babysitting, great advice, and a lot of laughs.  We got together at each other’s houses once a week, and once a month went out for an evening together that we called Mom’s night out.

All was well for me in this group until it became clear that my son was not keeping up with the other kids.  There is nothing as humbling and scary as seeing 9 other little ones walking about, beginning to chat and play while my son sat in the middle of the floor.  It was, in fact, painful at times and I began to make excuses now and then about why we couldn’t attend.  I was angry at myself because I felt a little bit ashamed of Colby, and there was no one to talk to who could understand my feelings.

One night, while out with the Moms, the subject of having a second child came up.  One of the girls turned to me and said “Would you have another child if you thought they would turn out like Colby?”  Instinctively I said “No.”  Immediately, I regretted it.

I went home that night feeling very down, and very angry at the person who had been so insensitive, but mostly I felt ashamed of myself, that I had betrayed my beautiful, darling son by as much as admitting that he was somehow less.

Checking in on my sleeping boy that night, I vowed to him that I would never, ever let anyone make me feel like he was less, and that I would never, ever consider him to be less.  I cried by his crib for half an hour, so sick with shame and self loathing for not putting that person in their place.

When I did become pregnant with my second son, it never occurred to me to be fearful that things wouldn’t be perfect.  My husband was upset at first – worried that we could possibly have two children with special needs- but that passed quickly.

Colton was born in November of 2003 – 27 months younger than Colby.  Colby was over the moon in love with his baby brother.  Just barely walking three months before his brother was born – and saying maybe 5 understandable words – I could hear Colby coming down the hospital hallway saying “baby, baby, baby” then plunked himself down in a chair and held out his arms to hold his little brother.

Colton proved to be the most delightful little baby, he just did everything right – he ate lots – (nursed like a champ), slept like a log, and was happy all day long.  I called him “Angel boy”.  And having him added to our family has been the best decision ever.

Colton 6 months

Great Expectations

Sometime in the summer of my 34 th year it hit me like a ton of bricks, I wanted a baby, and I wanted one NOW.

My husband and I had never really discussed having kids,  we were always too busy with travel, adventure, work.  But I think we both knew it was time for a change of lifestyle,  and so we agreed.  I got pregnant immediately, and was thrilled.  We spent the next 9 months anxiously awaiting the birth of our boy who we had already named Colby.  The  birth was not an easy one – Colby was already a week late, but after an emergency C section we were happy to hold our boy.

He was a little yellow (jaundiced) and his feet were really scrunched up, (as if he had been pretty uncomfortable for a while!) but his APGAR  score was good, and we were instantly in love with him.

We talked about how he would become a doctor, or a race car driver (I ordered him a baby sized fire suit from England) and we planned for an amazing, full life for our little boy.

The first few weeks were a blur of sleepless nights and trying to get used to nursing.  As it turned out, Colby was not a breast man, so we went reluctantly to a bottle and he began to grow and thrive.

He was a happy little guy, didn’t sleep very well ( but what baby does right?)  He seemed to have trouble breathing if he was laying flat, so we propped him in his bouncy chair, or held him so he could get some sleep.

It wasn’t until he was about 6 months old that we began to notice that he wasn’t keeping up with his same age peers.  He was the last one to sit up, then he wasn’t standing, walking.  He bum scooted his .way around from 13 month old and on until he was 2 when he began to stand and walk.

He didn’t talk.  Other kids were saying “cracker” and “Dora”.  He didn’t protest when other mobile kids snatched toys from him or pushed him over.   Something was wrong, that much was clear.

The  pride and joy we felt for our son was being eclipsed by a gut wrenching terror.  And thus began the journey that we didn’t expect, that we couldn’t have predicted in a million years,that made our previous physical and mental accomplishments seem like child’s play.  We were the parents of a special needs child.