There’s another boy in all of this, the other twin, the one who might someday read this blog and wonder if we considered him as much as we consider his brother. The one who sees all the special attention and extra time being spent helping C. The one who gets shuffled around during C’s many appointments and therapy sessions, handed off from one person to another.
I could say so much about this little boy. I could mention his infectious sense of humor, his kind disposition, his empathic attitude toward others (especially C). I could go on for hours telling stories about his shenanigans, of which there are many.
I could talk about how easily sharing comes to him, or how emotional he gets when he hears a sad piece of music. I could talk about how my heart swells when he says, “Daddy, hold my hand.” (This last he does all the time.)
I could retell the story of how we almost lost him, too, when he developed a perforated intestine just a few days old in the NICU, and how I eagerly gave him my blood in the hopes that it would not only heal him, but bring us closer.
Yes, I could say many things about this other boy. For the moment, however, I’ll just say this to him directly: “M, no father could ask for a better son. You’ve made me happier than I’m sure I deserve to be, and I am proud of you beyond words. I love you.”