The Twins Turn Two

Our twins will be two on Sunday, and it hasn’t escaped me that their birthday falls in the middle of Down syndrome awareness month. They were also born on the 100th Anniversary of the last Fatima apparition, and given my Marian Consecration in February of that year, my husband likes to say they are ‘Mary’s babies’.

One of the strangest things about having twins and having one with Down syndrome is that when they were born we were all of a sudden part of two groups – parents of twins and parents of Down syndrome. These are two amazing communities because the experience of each is overwhelming and unique. I don’t actually feel like I’ve wrapped my head around either because we’re pretty much still drinking out of a firehose everyday. Still these experiences are rich and vast and worthy of some commentary. So in honor of their birth, allow me to share a little about each piece – the twin part and the Down syndrome part – separately in this post.

THE TWIN PART:

I think most parents of twins (or any multiples) would agree that from the second you see more than one baby on the ultrasound you’re in a state of shock, and it never really goes away. It stays as sort of an ambient huh! Two babies! awareness in your psyche. Unless you buy things like coats or car seats or day care at the ski mountain and then you hear “two babies!” loud and clear.

But I think they would also agree that nothing will give you more awe of life, more wonder at its teaming, thriving, pulsating fullness than having two babies born to you, echoing each other’s needs at first, and then joys, delights, tantrums, and celebrations. Each stage bounces off of the other and makes life feel very full. In our case, with Ronan often behind Michael by about six weeks, the stages bouncing off of each other were a staccato motion, and I imagine parents of typical twins having a bit of a rougher time in the more difficult stages when they happen at the same time. But then again, we stay in them longer so maybe that is harder? We’ll let St. Peter decide.

There is just a bountiful playfulness with twins. They’re like puppies, and they always want to find out what fun the other one has found. Our older kids adore them. They are almost two and still, whenever they come home from school or come back from outings, they love to dive into play with them, and it feels like Christmas morning every time they greet them. It’s hard to believe they only just saw them seven hours ago, the reunion is so sweet. I would have thought their novelty would have faded by now but their affection has only gotten deeper. All my kids are excited (even my six year old) to jump on the very contained trampoline with them. I love peering out the window while I cook dinner and see sibling hug fests with lots of laughter. (For the record, my older kids fight, but the twins tend to distract them from it with their antics which is the actual bees knees).

There is a dimension with twins that even though they give double everything – more love, more hugs, more joy – they take away some freedoms temporarily. Like the ability to go into any environment that you can’t handle two babies or toddlers solo. Pools, parks, restaurants, parking lots. Most parents of toddlers know these are PTSD inducing with one spirited child. I found myself doing less with these toddlers than my other kids and felt the pangs of it at times. Even the mall is tough – Michael’s a runner and I can’t really leave Ronan alone while I go chase after him.

And if you happen to be a writer it will be a very big occupational hazard to have twins just so you know. Not a lot of time for reflection. Or processing. Or actual writing taking place. I totally trust God that I am exactly where I am meant to be right now and I know they grow up fast. I’ve made peace that there will be time for book writing when they are in preschool and for now food blogging and freelance writing are easier since they are much shorter time commitments.

We are buffered in some ways that Ronan isn’t waking yet and therefore isn’t trying to run out into oncoming traffic the way Michael is, but it is hard to have one of the twins crawling through wood chips at the park, or mud at the field. Ronan is almost walking, and when he does it will be a new dynamic for sure – we’ll be able to do some things more, like go to a park with pesky woodchips, but somethings less, like sporting events for the big kids where toddlers don’t see the invisible white line on the ground that indicates where ONLY PLAYERS SHOULD BE.

My memories of these boys’ first two years of life will mostly be this: that there were two sets of eyes watching me, and the minute one of them reached up and wanted cuddles and hugs, so did the other one. And so we spent a good chunk of these years on the floor, where I could always hold both of them, and my lap and my arms and my heart were routinely filled with giggling, cuddly, babbling baby boys, and I would constantly wonder how did I get so lucky? And also, how is the kitchen going to get cleaned?

THE DOWN SYNDROME PART:

For the most part, loving Ronan is just like loving my other kids. Being in tune, knowing and anticipating his needs, supporting and cheering reaching milestones. There are lots of jokes – he has the best sense of humor – and tickle sessions and hugs. We’re still working out the kinks in our relationship like a certain someone’s propensity to tip over the dog bowl or play in the toilet. No one is perfect.

Sometimes, when his Hirschsprung’s Disease gives him really bad tummy pain and he’s crying a lot or waking up in the middle of the night with a diaper rash, it crosses my mind that I’m a special needs parent. But I really never define myself that way, just like I don’t really define Ronan by having Down syndrome. He’s just Ronan, and I’m just me, and we love each other. It’s very sweet and pure and simple to be his mom.

Still, over the past two years, two very different types of parents of children with Down syndrome have been on my mind, and shaped my conception of being a parent to a son with Down syndrome.

The first was a professor who had a son with Down syndrome and wrote a book about it that I read in grad school.  Even though he documented his joys and charms, he admitted he struggled with his son’s intellectual disability, since he was a professor and made his living with his mind. I get that he was being vulnerable and honest, but that is the bias that I detest the most, and the educated elite like doctors and professors are the most guilty of it. It’s pride and arrogance. He was given the best gift you could have possibly received and he didn’t understand it. He missed its worth.

The second is a family who I know through Instagram, who had a son with Down syndrome and thought he was so amazing, they felt pulled to adopt another child with Down syndrome because it’s so misunderstood everywhere, but especially in Bosnia and China. They have orphanages overflowing with children with Down syndrome. They found a child and knew it was THEIR son the second they saw him on Reese’s Rainbow. When they picked him up at the orphanage, no one had ever come to see him, no one came when he left, and he and many others passed their time licking their mattress. Now he has two loving parents and six other siblings, including an older brother with Down syndrome, and his life is full of laughter and love. These parents understood the gift they received with their son and were given more. I love this open heartedness and want to emulate it.

It might sound strange, but when I learned about the children on Reese’s Rainbow, I looked at Ronan, and decided to pour every ounce of love I could into this one boy, this one child, to make up for all the love I couldn’t pour into all these children. I know it will never be enough, and I will always try to fundraise to help these children find a home. But I hope the power of our love will help him grow up with every part of his potential developed, so that the world can see him and know how special all of these children are.

I think the biggest surprise about having a child with Down syndrome is what happens to your heart when you love someone so innocent and full of joy. They shine this back to you so freely and purely, that your whole being is overtaken by their charm. You feel peaceful, joyful, so supremely happy to be in their presence. Their natures are so good, and such a reflection of God’s goodness, that it just feels like a miracle every day to get to love them.

For example – Ronan’s hugs. They deserve their own post. Possibly their own book.

There is the tight bear hug with a head tilt on the shoulder, the way tired babies lay their head on you. And then there is the cheek to cheek hug, and then it’s like he is trying to pour his love into you via your face. Always his arms are around you so tight, like he never wants to let go. And nine times out of ten when he sees a friend or family member or new person – ok fine, everyone – he throws his arms out to them so he can hug them, fingers splayed out in his excitement. It is a very fast way to make friends I am learning. Seeing so many others cherish Ronan (and Michael too of course, but Ronan in a unique way) is the best and I am sure will be a joy for our whole lives.

He is delighted every morning when we pick him up out of his crib, and he is delighted when we tuck him in with his blanket and bunny every night. Of course he has tantrums and all the emotions his brother has, but his baseline is pure joy. He is sweetness itself.

I can’t help but think some of his sweetness rubs off on Michael, since he is quite the cuddler too. We spend a lot of our days on the floor, hugging. Which isn’t a bad gig if you ask me.

Happy Birthday to my beautiful boys. Like I say everyday, I’m so glad you’re here! We all are.