As an extremely Type-A and achievement focused woman, it's taken a lot of effort to make peace with the pace at which my twins develop. It's far too easy these days to get caught up in what milestones they should be hitting on the timeline I want them to meet. Figuring out how to handle life when it doesn't go exactly as planned has been a huge learning lesson.
My girls are currently getting physical and occupational therapy due to the severity of their gross motor delays. Most days it doesn't bother me one bit. They're my little girls whom I love to the moon and back. That I have no doubt about. Yet I find myself struggling at times with a little pang I feel deep inside when outside the bubble of our home life.
Tonight I felt that familiar pang. I was out to dinner with a colleague and friend I hadn't seen in several years. During the course of the conversation she started rattling off questions about the girls. Nothing out of the ordinary or intrusive. Just things like "are you busy now that they're both walking?" Walking. Cue the pang.
Neither of the twins is walking at 13 months. They're working on skills like pulling up to standing and transitioning from crawling to a seated position. Since starting their therapy, both have quickly learned new skills and are already showing progress. It's amazing to watch them learn so quickly. We have been given no reason but to be optimistic they'll catch up soon. But the pang surfaces every so often.
The pang is a mixture of sadness and anger the girls have to work harder than other babies their age to do basic things. In the grand scheme of things, I consciously know and recognize how blessed we are they're happy and healthy. My head gets it, but my heart doesn't get it. I've found myself fighting back tears when in physical therapy with my one daughter. She was growing visibly frustrated with some of the positions the therapist was putting her in. The pang of guilt and sadness reared it's ugly head.
No mother looks at her children and wishes life will be hard for them. Quite the opposite, I think. When I feel the pang, I think a part of me wishes I could fix things for my girls. I want to wave Mommy's magic wand and make it so there was never any NICU time or therapies or worries. Having babies in the NICU forced me to recognize from day one that I can't fix or control everything. This Mommy doesn't have a magic wand in her toolkit. No matter how much I wish I did at times.
Thankfully the pang doesn't usually last long. It passes. I take a deep breath, explain briefly how the girls are doing and move on. No magic wand required.
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