Lucy is just over two months old. We had her two month check-up this week and the pediatrician told me she's "perfect" - doing everything she should be doing, if not more. As she checked Lucy's eyes with the light, I smiled and knew how precious it is that she can even do that part of the exam. Lucy's pupils shrank, and the doctor saw two bright, red reflexes, no problem.
At this point in Avery's life, she was barely getting over her bacterial meningitis infection, and we were being told that her new cornea transplant was failing before it even had a chance to work. We were just starting therapy to get her to learn to turn her head toward a light, or to bring her legs to an noisy object so she would be aware she could kick her legs. Avery was completely blind and as cruel as it sounds, was basically behaving like a slug. I am aware that two- month-old babies don't have a completely developed vision system, and they are not seeing very clearly. The pediatrician and eye doctors assured me of this over and over when they examined Avery. However, I'm now aware that they were just trying to make me feel better. The difference between Lucy's vision at two months and Avery's is incomparable. It is glaringly obvious that Lucy sees - she smiles at the sight of our faces, she tries to bat at the toys hanging from her gym, and she turns toward me as I walk by her. I can move a toy over her head and she tracks it. It's an amazing experience that takes my breath away every single day. John and I still think "so this is what it's supposed to be like!" It's a feeling you could only know if you only ever had a baby who did not do what they "should be doing." And I'm grateful to know this feeling because I wonder if I would just take all these milestones for granted if I never had Avery. If I never knew how it feels to have these things absent, would I appreciate so much that they are happening, so easily, every day with Lucy? I feel like I get a gift that many moms don't. It also makes me appreciate and respect people like my dear friend, Joanna, who like many other special needs moms, had her "typical" child first. She knew what her baby "should be doing" and every day had to look at her second born daughter, with Peter's Anomaly, who was clearly not doing those things. I can imagine that instead of feeling relief and joy every day, like I am, she felt scared and so sad. I can also now appreciate even more all my friends who had their special needs baby first. We were hit with moments every day of our second pregnancy when the fear of "it happening again" paralyzed us. And when the baby is born healthy, we were overcome with so much relief and happiness, words will never describe. It's just an incredible feeling that you have every time you look at your healthy child, or experience them meeting a milestone that your first child did not.
Many times I also feel guilty for being so happy about how easy and typical Lucy is. Neither we nor Lucy have to work as hard as we did with with Avery. She eats, sleeps, poops, plays. That's it. Besides her little stint in the hospital, she only has to go to the doctor for routine visits and shots. And not to minimize the experience of watching your baby get a shot, but .... it's not a big deal. If you never had to see your baby go through anything worse, then I can see how it may be traumatizing. But let me assure you, it's not. They don't even remember it 2 minutes after it happened. As Lucy was getting her three pokes this week, my exact thoughts were, "aww, she looks so cute hysterically crying!" Again, that may sound harsh, but only a mom who has seen what I've seen would understand that shots are no sweat. This second experience is a completely different one than my first, and has made me a different kind of mom. I have to learn how to juggle my two completely different children, and as they get older, learn to take both of their feelings into consideration. Lucy will feel like we favor Avery since she'll require more time and attention. And Avery may feel jealous of Lucy, who doesn't have to struggle with the same things or feel different from everyone else. Our lives will continue to be challenging, and I'm sure there are things that lie ahead that may suck more than what we've already gone through.
But in keeping with my "take it one day at a time" mantra, today I'm grateful for the gift of appreciating that in their own different ways, both my girls are looking at me, smiling, and doing what they should be doing.
