The Story of Taryn

You like Thomas the Train, who you call "Thomas a choo choo twain!" And Veggie Tales (or "Tijjie Tales!") is a pretty close favorite. Although all bets are off when it comes to Scooby Doo (better known as "Dooby Cobby!").

You're silly and sweet. You're rough and tough. You're a bundle of contrasts and everything I never thought I'd have.

Your name is Taryn Michael. In eleven days you will be two years old.

So much has happened in your life in the twelve months since your last birthday.

You learned to walk. You learned to talk. You learned to drink from a big boy cup, to eat with a spoon, to get your point across, to make choices. You got glasses. You broke one pair and lost the other. You're learning to be you.

You moved from Minnesota to Florida, from one Florida town to another. You went from having your own room to sharing one. You went from being unable to participate in much of anything, to the instigator.

I called the day you learned to walk an ordinary, every day miracle, because thousands, millions of other families all over the world were watching children right around your age do the same thing for the first time, and yet it was amazing given what we'd gone through with your brother.

As I sit here tonight, I find that I was, somewhat, wrong.

That day was not an ordinary, every day miracle.

YOU are an ordinary, every day miracle.

You are amazing. I don't recall teaching you to use a spoon, yet you do. I don't recall teaching you to get dressed on your own, yet you can. I don't think I ever showed you where the garbage was, yet you're capable of throwing away your own garbage. I didn't have to take you to therapy to get you to walk and talk, yet you do both, picked it up all on your own. Just like millions of other children all over the world.

And it is amazing. It's a miracle, the miracle of childhood unfolding as it "should," as it is "expected," as is "typical."

You were born to a mother who can't always give you the experience the baby of the family usually gets, who can't always make you the top priority because 9 times out of 10 your brother needs to be. You were born with a big brother who will forever need more than you will. You were born to parents who had never experienced typical.

And I'm telling you, you are a miracle. For all the fuss made over your brother, you are AMAZING. You are...miraculous. Incredible. Astonishing.

The story of your life started on a September morning when I threw up cooking eggs. You are the author of where the rest of your story goes. YOU. Not me. Not a regiment of doctors, therapists, social workers, and home health aides who will guide, mold, shape, and ultimately help decide your brother's future.

YOU.

The story of you is about to be two years old, and we're getting to the part where you start to play a more prominent role in what happens to you.

I can't wait to see what the next chapter brings.

The Learning Process

You know what the nice thing is about having an entire weekend to devote just to my sweet Byrd? I mean, besides the "only having one kid to handle" thing.

I get to learn things about him I don't notice when he's with his brother.

Like, I know a lot about Kai. A LOT. Kai had two whole years of Mom to himself-I know that kid like the back of my hand. I know that he looks like me, but personalities seem to be inherited, because he has his father's. He's smart, and funny, and very mechanical. And has a temper that would make Hades cringe if you set him off. I know his favorite color is yellow, and that he likes Yoohoo. I know Mater is his favorite Cars character, and he's terrified of Big Bird. I can rattle off his medical history in a minute flat. I could write a book on what I know about my three year old.

Now, of course, this doesn't mean I know nothing about Taryn. I know he's allergic to nuts, and his lungs aren't the greatest and never have been, and that he has to sleep sitting up when he's sick or he can't breathe. I know he loves Thomas the Train, and that he's very mischievous. I know he looks so much like his father, but doesn't act a thing like him. I know his temper could make Hades cringe too, but he doesn't have the hair-trigger like his big brother and father. I know that he has to have his Scout Puppy to sleep, and that if you change his bedtime routine in any way at all, he won't go to bed.

So what have I learned that I didn't know before?

I never knew how much like ME he really is.

I've learned that, while he'll eat chocolate, he'll take fruit over it every time. Just like his mom. I've learned that he really does love to read. Where he won't often sit still for a story with Kai, today he took a book off their shelf and sat on the floor, looking at and studying every page like he was trying to memorize it (never mind that he can't read). He even had the same look of concentration I'm told I have when I'm reading. I've noticed that, though he'll sit in one spot longer than his brother will, like me, he can't stand to sit still-he's always moving somehow. Whether he's tapping his fingers or wiggling his feet or nodding his head, Taryn is never really still.

Yesterday, I took him to the dollar store and bought him a ball. It's just a ball, but that kid is so excited over it. He spent two hours this morning chasing it around the living room, bringing it back to me to have me throw it again and again for him to chase.

And his favorite thing to do, apparently, you ask? Climb up on my lap, put his head on my shoulder, and just watch whatever I'm doing. Whether it's my schoolwork, a blog post, or a movie, he wants to participate with me.

And that floors me. Because Kai never showed much interest in what I was doing. And Taryn...Byrd wants to be with and like his Mommy.

And I never realized that until there was no Kai at home for a day or two to hoard my attention for himself.

I think we really need to work on that. I'm enjoying learning more about my baby.

A Pizza Kind of Night

Oh boy, folks! Wish them luck-my grandparents took Kai for the day! AND they are taking him to a waterfront restaurant! Oh boy. Can anyone say "Nervous wreck!"? Where's that wine? I think I need a glass to calm those pesky nerves...

And after he hangs out with his great grandparents for the day, he's going on a spend the night over to my mom's house (here on referred to lovingly as "Lala") to spend time with Lala, Uncle, and Aunty. If he does well with that, he might get to stay Saturday and come home after church Sunday. Oh boy folks!

Really, where's that wine? OH! In my fridge, that's right ;-)

Meanwhile, I have Mr. Byrd at home, who got spoiled with a new ball today.

Tonight, it's a pizza and wine kind of night. And since it's just Mr. Byrd at home, he gets his favorite pizza: sausage, pepperoni, and romano/parmesan/mozzarella cheese.

Go forth and order pizza for your lovely families, my dears! It's a pizza kind of night. 

The Balancing Act

First, we should probably cover that I suffer from insomnia, so very often I write at night when I can't sleep. This is one of those nights.

Today, as stated in my earlier post, Kai's legs didn't want to work for him, and he needed Mommy's comfort. Well, Taryn has reached an age where he's starting to display jealousy when other kids are getting attention from his mommy. All his short little life, attention from Mommy has been a matter of balancing.

Kai gets a lot of attention. There's been endless rounds of doctor appointments, tests, therapies, diagnostic sessions, in-home visits, IFSP meetings, night terrors and nightmares that lead to middle of the night screaming and flailing, meltdowns, outbursts, ER visits with a panicked mommy holding a little boy who tumbled 8 feet to a concrete floor off the top of the basement stairs or some other accident, and so many other things.

Then there's Taryn who, despite 72 hours in NICU at birth and an overnight stay after an apnea episode in November, is perfectly 100% healthy. He tested negative for the genetic issues and so far displays none of the behavioral, psychological, or neurological issues that Kai has. He had a minor issue with his eye which resolved on its own, but has otherwise had no health issues aside from what you'd expect of a baby (teething, colds, and fevers after shots).

Whether or not people realize it, this means that Taryn gets shoveled off to the side a lot. No, I don't ignore him, and no I don't neglect him. But he doesn't get the attention that most younger siblings get.

In a typical household, the baby of the family gets showered with attention, love, affection, and spoiled rotten. The older kids are often left feeling a little pushed to the side and left out on the birth of a new baby. In our household, Taryn entered a world that, for health reasons, had to keep revolving around his big brother. What we do and don't do revolves around what Kai can and can't do. Our diet revolves around what Kai needs for his health (he's got allergies, including a lactose allergy we found out about last week, and we're trying a diet for his autism). Our whole lives revolve around Kai and his medical needs.

This, of course, in no way means that Taryn's needs are not met or are somehow ignored, or that he doesn't have a good relationship with his mom (we're not going to go into their father at this point). There's nothing about my baby that I can't tell you, and to meet him in person, you can clearly see that he is his mommy's boy. It does, however, mean that Taryn's life is not the typical "baby of the house" life that most people picture.

He does have to sacrifice my attention to his brother more often than I'd like. He has had his nights interrupted by his brother's nighttime screams of terror and panic. He has, sadly, been in the line of fire when his brother goes out of control. My top priority during those times is, of course, removing Taryn from a situation where he can get hurt, which usually means that Kai ends up in his room.

All this has also resulted in a balancing act, walking a fine line to ensure that neither of my sweet boys ever feels that they must fight for my attention, even if, at this point in their lives, I have to teach them what it means to get my attention to themselves.

Which brings me back to today.

While Kai was on my lap, crying his eyes out and breaking my heart over how unfair all this has been to him, Taryn was doing his own heart-breaking little act. He was screaming, trying to push his big brother off my lap, and climb up onto me himself. He so badly wanted me at that moment, and it broke my heart to tell him no and put him back down. While I can, and have, hold them both at the same time, during times like that, when Kai is hurting either physically or emotionally (or when Taryn is!), then he needs me and his brother can wait. At this point, being just barely over a year old, Taryn doesn't understand that it's okay to let brother have my attention to himself when he needs it. So, when Kai had calmed down (or, well, passed out), I situated him so he was no longer on my lap, and picked up my baby and held him until he fell asleep. And though this happens in all families (jealousy over one child having Mom or Dad's attention while the other one doesn't), it happens a lot in our family, and for me it seems further aggravated by the fact that it is more so because it is necessary that Kai have my attention so often, and because, unlike many families out there (but not as uncommon as it used to be), there is only one of me. There is no Daddy for Taryn to turn to if I have Kai on my lap or vice versa. I am the sole attention giver, and that, my friends, is one heck of a balancing act.