We are in that stage now…the twos.
I should probably be more scared of them. We’ve already had some funny (if you want to call them that) “twos” moments with the boys.
But the number 2 now has some special meaning in my life.
I have 2 boys (goes without saying).
They were born on 2.2.12 at 12:12 am, 20 seconds apart. That day is also my maternal grandmother’s birthday, the woman from whom I get my middle name, who also had twins, one of whom is my mother.
So, even though the birth of my twins wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for, we feel pretty certain that everything happened exactly as it should have.
As the 2s are now here for our 2, we are amazed at what a fantastic and flabbergasting age this is. Their memories are incredible. Their vocabularies are growing everyday. They ask us what “dis” is so they can learn the word for it. They are funny. They can answer questions and understand everything (more than we would like sometimes). Win said, “bless you, mommy” after I sneezed the other day ?! They will go from crying because they lost a toy to the sweetest bunch of cuddly goodness to saying a word over and over until we understand it to dancing and spinning in circles at the drop of a hat.
To us, they are the best parts of still needing us and wanting to be picked up all the time and saying “I do it” to most everything.
Most recently the number 2 has meant something much more.
Because in the 2nd week of his 22nd month*, my boy, who was born on 2.2.12 and is 20 seconds older than his brother, came back to me.
Our boy came back to us.
Holt had spent the last few months frustrated for not only not being able to communicate effectively (he has a real NEED to be not just heard, but understood), but also for not being able to be as free with his movement as he once had been. He was frustrated and would cry and whine a lot. He had not always been like that, but we thought it was due to early onset
terrible terrific twos (as my mom calls them). We thought it was going to be a phase. But as soon as he had that last treatment in November, the laughing, joking, smart, running boy came back. He was funny again. He was sweet again. His fuse was much longer. He was happy.
Even though the GBS wasn’t finished with him and he had a relapse in January, I can see Holt coming back faster this time.
I think this year is going to be his year (not the best of his life…I’d like him to remember that year). I think this is going to be the year the I remember the most. The year that I saw Holt struggle. The year I saw us grow as a family. The year I saw Win become a brother by looking out for Holt, almost care-taking for him – being upset when Holt was upset – giving Holt a toy when he was upset – stopping and waiting for Holt to catch up while we’re on a walk – really showing love in ways that we didn’t know he was capable of.
Two. Who knew that 2 could bring such change?**
Who knew that 2 could bring such good?
**Anyone who is already a parent of more than one child is laughing at that statement right now.