The Whole Story Part 1

We took the boys to a birthday party Saturday afternoon and when we arrived there were 14.6 billion little kids running around in the front yard playing hide-and-seek and poke-each-other-in-the-eye-with-a-stick. Naturally Andrew and Joel wanted to join right in the fun, but we needed to make an appearance indoors first, plus I knew they’d want some cake. We went inside and had our cake (actually we ate it too) and the boys were ready to get outside for some much needed rough housing. I went outside with them to the front yard where all the mayhem was in order to set some boundaries since there was no adult supervision out there. I debated with myself a little as to whether or not it was wise to leave them outside alone, but I hoped that with the sheer number of kids they’d just be so caught up in the fray that nothing would cause them to wander. I walked both of them around the perimeter of the yard on the sidewalk and explained to them that they were only allowed to play in the grass. I then asked them to show me where they could play, and they walked to each boundary to show me they knew where to stop. As I was explaining their boundaries some of the other little gentlemen let their curiosities get the better of them and finally asked, “What are you doing?”

“I’m showing them where they can play.”

“Well we can play on the sidewalk.”

“Well, that’s fine, but I want them to stay in the grass.”

“Why”

“Because they have autism and they don’t have good risk assessment so I have to do that for them.”

“They don’t look like they have autism.”

“That’s because they have come a really long way over the past four years.”

“Well I don’t know why you only want them to play in the grass.”

“You don’t have to understand it. It’s their rule, not yours. You can play in the street if your parents allow it.”

“Whatever.”

                I can’t blame the little guys at all. Anymore Andrew and Joel just seem like slightly delayed little boys. At face value they’re only a little immature with a slight speech delay and a few eccentricities. If you know what to look for though you can still see the battle that rages underneath, but they handle it so well. During our parent-teacher conference last week we had the pleasure of reminiscing with one of the staff who was present at the boys’ initial evaluation almost 4 years ago. We all just sat in wonder of how far they’ve come.

               

                Sometimes it’s good for Hannah and me to be reminded that we really are remembering accurately how awful things were. I’ve questioned my own sanity at times. Am I just remembering big or were things really the way that we remember them? We know that it’s human nature to make your victories that much bigger and your foes that much more vicious when you reflect on past encounters. I know that we have to be guilty of that in at least a few of our memories, but it is encouraging when others retell the horror stories of their experiences with our boys. I know how weird that sounds, but it is true. It doesn’t matter how horrid things were, they aren’t that way any longer. When life seems to have pushed me to the brink I need to be reminded that we have conquered greater foes so we must surely have the strength for a feat such as this. It’s not good to live in the past but it is essential that we remember it. Through our past experiences we find the faith, strength, and boldness to run headlong into new endeavors. Through our adversities we find the confidence to continue living our lives in the weird and anything-but-ordinary way that works best for us.

                For the sake of those who don’t know much of our story, I’m going to spend the next (unknown number of) days doing my best to tell it start to middle. There’s a good chance that I’ll forget a bunch and a possibility I’ll make up a thing or two (Hannah is usually good at catching me at both).

                To start, you may find this hard to believe, but we didn’t plan on having twins. We also didn’t know we were having twins until 3 months before they were born. Hannah was 21 and I was 22 when we went in with 1 year old Caleb for our 20 week ultrasound. I had very nearly come to a place of acceptance for our second pregnancy, but I was still a little shaken by it all. Imagine my surprise when the ultrasound tech lubed up Hannah’s belly and plopped the wand down there to fill the screen with flailing appendages. I remember thinking, ‘I’m no expert, but this looks a lot different.” There was this crazy moment where time stood still as I realized what I was seeing at the exact same time that the technician was announcing, “It’s twins!” Caleb was running around the room like you’d expect of any 1 year old with the attention span of a 1 year old and Hannah and I were just floored. We both just looked at the screen and then one another, and back to the screen, and back to one another. And so it went back and forth while the tech explained, I’m sure, many important things that I was not at all capable of processing at the moment. Hannah was crying and I knew I should do something about it but covering one eye didn’t help and then I was out of options. I finally kissed her on the forehead and whispered, “It’ll be OK. God will take care of us.”, and swept up my little tornado to head to the waiting room while the doctor came to talk to Hannah.

                I didn’t know what was going on in that room, but if I had I probably would have ended up punching that doctor in the face, or at least sending a strongly worded letter. Tomorrow: What the doctor said to deserve a punching and how the next few months of our lives played out.