older than he should be

My son turned six today.  Okay, he actually turns six at 1:51 pm.  But for all intents and purposes Nick is six.  At about the time I'm writing this, on the day he was born, Katy and I had arrived at Cottage Hospital and she was being hooked up to monitors.  We were both expecting to be sent home shortly as he wasn't due for another three weeks.  Like the rest of his life, he exceeded those expectations and was born before he medically should have been.

Some parents say their kid acts/looks/seems older than they actually are.  That may or may not be true, but for Nick, it is one hundred percent accurate. I know you're dying to know why, so let me relieve your anxiety.

Let's start with his stature.  While born on the smaller side, it took less than a year for him to break into the 90th percentile, and upon reaching that status, has yet to leave it.  He's definitely a "big" kid and while there are many, many boys and girls who are skinnier than he is, we're not concerned. For one, he never stops playing hard and as a result never stops sweating so again, we're not concerned. He and I were picking up dinner for Katy on her birthday back in May and the cashier said hi to him. He replied back with hi. She asked his name. He said Nick. She asked him how old he was. He replied, "I'm five...I weigh 62 pounds." As the girl was placing her eyeballs back in their sockets she stammered, "But I'm only 85 pounds and I'm 19!" Granted, she was maybe, MAYBE, four foot eleven. Still. That's my boy. Blowing people away.

The same is true of his height, reading ability, intelligence, strength, hand-to-eye coordination, and many other traits.  All are beyond what we thought it should be for his age. He's one of the most polite boys we know, a sensitive soul, and in love with anyone who will play board games with him.

There is a flip side to this huggable cuddly boy.  He is a sinner. He can lie, disobey, stall, disrespect, and sneak with the best of them.  He exceeded our expectations of these as well in that for each sin that manifested itself, we thought he was way too young to display those tendencies.  But in this matter, he is exactly like all of us.  Way ahead in our ability to sin than we should be.  Exploring and testing the boundaries of our Father's patience and tolerance daily on an exponential level.  Are we surprised by his ability to violate God's law?  Absolutely!  But not because he's able to do it, just that it points to our own sin so vividly in both dealing with it and displaying the traits he inherited from both of us. Again, breaking all of our expectations about himself and inadvertently showing us our own in the process.

The most important and heart-wrenching way in which he's older than we feel he should be, has been emotionally.  In the few short years he's had on this earth, he's seen his dog Lucy bolt between his legs as he accidentally left the front door open, only to be in the car when his mom discovered Lucy's broken and twitching body up the street.  He has and is enduring his new dog Hobbes scratch, destroy, and tackle him.

He was placed in Kindergarten early out of necessity for the multiple births to come, conquered the accelerated program presented before him, only to be switched to a different school for the following term.  His mother was put on bed rest and unable to help him with tasks he was so used to having help with.  This boy, has lost three brothers.  Two to a broken social system that caused him to believe it was his fault they were taken away.  The other died a premature death in a hospital room five feet away from him.  He was essentially an only child for five years with all the attention he could desire being paid to him by both his parents until both of them diverted their focus to two very needy infants.  He's watched his parents cry night after night in the weeks that followed his brother's death, been to his own brother's memorial service, had to endure two sleep-deprived adults who have all too often neglected him or at the very least paid him a minute amount of attention compared to the previous five years.  His trips to Disneyland went from almost monthly to virtually non-existent, as did park excursions, bike rides, and any other outside-the-house-fun-activity imaginable.  All the while, all around him his friends have been gaining sibling after sibling, close enough in age to have an at-home friend and playmate.  All in all, it has been a trying life so far for this little guy, and I'm sure in his little heart these are just the tip of the iceberg.

There have been times when the bewilderment on this boy's face has been emotionally overwhelming for Katy and I.  And yet, at the same time, extremely frustrating as he's been trying to figure out how to cope with his own emotions by acting out or seeking our attention in ways we wish he wouldn't.

Realistically, I realize and understand that there are kids the world over that have been through infinitely worse than Nick has.  But how much this kid can handle leaves us in awe.  Through everything, he doesn't appear to hold any resentment toward us and, more importantly, absolutely zero toward his baby brothers.  I would suggest there isn't a kid in the world who loves his siblings more than he does.  He lets them pull, drool, slap, interfere, delay, and demolish his life.  Yet every morning he sees them, every day after school, every time he has been outside for more than ten minutes and was able to forget about how they changed his life, the next moment they come into his peripheral, he has a grin from ear-to-ear and calls them by whatever nickname he's trying out for them at the time while gently grabbing their hands.  If given the choice, he will put off almost anything for the opportunity to make them laugh or help us out with them.  He is a GREAT big brother for "his babies" whom he has waited five years for.

I'm well aware of the possibility that all of this is temporal.  But for the time being, I needed to document not to the world, but to our family, what we are witnessing in this little boy: a five-year-old who is years beyond his age in experience, emotion, and, with his brotherly interactions, maturity.

I could write all night about this kid, but after awhile I'm sure it becomes redundant and overly wordy if it isn't already. At the end of the day, what I've learned is my son's age can't be measured in earthly restrictions like years and days.  My son's age is measured in the love he has in his heart for his parents, brothers, family, and Christ, and if that's the case, he is already an old soul.

remember

My cousin Amanda called me the other night out of the blue, as she had passed by her fridge and saw our birth announcement on it.  She told me she was thinking of us as she is giving birth to her second son tomorrow.  It reminded us there are many of you still regularly thinking of us and our trial which was now over nine months ago.  It also caused us to reflect, once again for the ten billionth time, on how much we miss our son.  Amanda chided me for not having any recent pictures of the boys and I admit, I am without excuse.  I'm sorry we don't post more, or any, depending on your viewpoint.  We're lucky to get our phones out quick enough to even grab a quick pic of something cute they're doing or some new milestone.  I'd like to say I'll be better about it, but that would be an empty promise.  We post when we can which is obviously few and far between.  The night Amanda called, we were playing on the floor of their bedroom with them and listening to my iPhone on shuffle when a song by Chris Rice came on entitled "Untitled Hymn (Come to Jesus)."  That night it held a deeper meaning and after a few days and many tears, I was able to put a photo montage together of the life and death of Joshua.  I feel like I shouldn't have to say it after so many other posts where the disclaimer was necessary, but I will anyway. Don't watch this video if you're concerned over people seeing you cry or if you're in an emotionally fragile state, as it will most likely evoke feelings you don't want to come out. With that being said, please enjoy a glimpse into our youngest son's life we aren't always able to properly describe, but feel this video does a small bit of justice.

homecoming

I was browsing for some examples today of multiple birth announcements and came across this blog called Perfectly Peyton.  It's this woman, Stacey Skrysak, a tv news anchor in Illinois, who gave birth to triplets at 22 weeks 6 days. Shortly after giving birth, one of her triplets, Abigail, passed away. A month and a half later, her son Parker, also one of the triplets, passed away too. After 116 days in the NICU, they were able to bring their daughter Peyton home. I told Katy about this inspiring family and how Stacey had been blogging fairly consistently throughout. I expressed guilt at not having kept up our blog for the numerous people praying and thinking about us during our experience. Katy reminded me of my post regarding the NICU staff and how she had posted just over a month ago about how the boys were doing. I shrugged both of those off in light of Stacey's ability to continue posting throughout, what seems to us, overwhelming loss. So for hibernating, I do apologize.

That's what this post is going to be. Strictly an update. If I have the emotional energy, I may try and tackle a thoughtful post afterward. Without further ado, here's what's been going on since November 10th, the date of Katy's last post.

On November 13th, Samuel came home. All of us, especially Nick, could not have been more excited

 Even Lucy got in on the action. She was unsure, but at least she didn't shun him like she did to Nick for the first three years of his life. 

It was a long first night, but so, so, worth it. For the next nine days though, we struggled with spending too much time at home taking care of ol' Sam while not spending enough time at the hospital with David. We found ourselves splitting our time with David, rarely going as an entire family, trying to balance raising Nick and Samuel at home and getting quality time with David. Wrestling with guilt over getting to know Samuel so well at home and missing out on the same experience with David. We were faked out two days after Samuel was discharged when the NICU staff removed his o2 nasal cannula. 

They ran him through a car seat check, sitting him buckled up in his car seat and monitoring his levels for two hours. He passed the test with flying colors! That night however, he "de-sat'd" and was put back on o2 for a few more days. That was a tough one to swallow, especially since the 17th was their one month mark and they weren't living in the same place.

Soon it was over though and on November 22nd, our family was within our four walls, united at last. 

Having both of the boys home before Thanksgiving was amazing


We obviously can't say enough about the staff at Marian. They were amazing and will always have a special place in our hearts. That being said, we didn't realize how much of a toll it was taking on us emotionally to walk by the place where all of our triplets lived and where one of them died. We walked by the exact room where Joshua entered into heaven sometimes three times a day. We passed the operating room where we saw them come into this world. We sat for hours a few feet from where we saw Joshua failing to breathe. We daily saw the faces of the loving people who cared for Joshua in his few hours. These situations and associations were unavoidable and we wouldn't change what we went through by walking down those halls every day for 37 days. That number seems so small when its written out. Especially in light of the Skrysak's time in the NICU and especially our friends the Kostjuk's. But to us, it felt like a lifetime.

Well, life got in the way and although this post began shortly after Thanksgiving, it's concluding in January. 

The boys are amazing. We celebrated Christmas with both sides of the family, dedicated them at church this past Sunday with family and friends, and they're both double their birth weight now! They smile regularly, poop disgustingly, cry incessantly, and we love them unconditionally. I'll try and get Katy to post some pictures from the past month in her own post soon. Thank you for your prayers during our hiatus. Sorry it took so long. Taking care of two babies takes up a lot of time ;) 

three not two

It's been awhile since I've cried. The last time I did was during Joshua's memorial service. That was until three days ago. I know many of you may not agree with what I'm about to say, but we claim our children on our taxes. In order to claim them as a dependent, they must have a social security number. Well apparently when a child only lives for a few hours they don't issue one. So off we went to the social security office in search of this elusive number. Upon arriving at the friendliest place on earth, we were informed Joshua would never receive a number as he would never receive social security benefits. We were instructed to walk our behinds over to the IRS office and request a tax payer identification number. The equally sociable IRS agent (imagine a modern day Zacchaeus) declined our request and suggested we walk our behinds over to the social security office and request a number. After somewhat politely informing him we had just been there, he suggested we submit our taxes with a birth or death certificate to prove he was born this year. Thinking it would be a good idea to get birth certificates for all of the triplets, we journeyed to the county clerk's office where we met for the first time that afternoon a "civil" civil servant. After receiving all of the papers, we made a shocking discovery. Unbeknownst to us, and probably most people, when someone dies a person at the clerk's office stamps the word "deceased" in big red letters on their birth certificate. Apparently this particular government employee decided to make Joshua's birth certificate into a work of art by stamping it six times. Fast-forward to two days ago when I sat down for my yearly venture into the amazing world of Turbo Tax. After entering the other three boys' socials, I got to Joshua's info. I was fine filling it out until the last box where I was asked to type the word "died" in the blank space. At that exact moment, the song "Do You Wanna Build a Snowman?" from Disney's recent movie Frozen came on our iTunes. If you're not familiar with the movie, this little girl named Anna is singing to her sister Elsa, or, as it was in my head, two little boys to their missing brother. The lyrics go like this:

(Anna) Do you wanna build a snowman? / 

Come on let's go and play / 

I never see you anymore /

 Come out the door / 

It's like you've gone away

We used to be best buddies / 

And now we're not / 

I wish you'd tell me why

Do you wanna build a snowman? / 

It doesn't have to be a snowman / 

(Elsa) Go away Anna / 

(Anna) Okay, 'bye

It didn't help that earlier that day while on my newly adapted public bus ride home from work, I had been looking out of the window at the passing scenery, realizing I'd never get to see the excitement on Joshua's face the first time he saw the ocean, a field full of cows, sky-reaching mountains, and the like.

There are days I don't think of him too much. Then there are days like the above where I can't stop thinking about him. We only knew him face-to-face for a few hours, and yet I'm reminded of him everywhere. He's in his brothers' smiles. He's in the way they sleep. He's in any giraffe I see, as the stuffed animal waiting for him at home with his name embroidered on it was a giraffe. He's in the bright blue of the blanket he was wrapped up in. He's in every bath we give our boys as I remember Tara washing his hair after he passed away. He's in the grip of our sons hands, the way Katy looks in certain light, or the shirt Nick or I wore that day. He's everywhere.

I don't mind talking about him. In fact I enjoy doing so. It helps me feel like I'm remembering him and not forgetting who he was. It reminds me I will see him again one day by the promises of Scripture.

And yet, there are times I don't like being reminded of him. Times I'm caught off guard and feel guilty for not thinking of him enough. Times I feel like I'm dishonoring the memory of him by not acknowledging his existence.

By this I mean when people use a certain word to describe David and Samuel: twins.

Ninety-nine percent of the people who call our earthly boys "twins" are well-intentioned and merely curious as to why there are two babies who look and dress similarly. We always get looks when we go out in public. Looks that seem to be saying, "Are those...yes they are!" or "That man and woman are carrying the same style infant car seat...wait a minute...could it be?" or my favorite with an open mouth "Ummm....huh? What's going on here???"

Part of me wants to be sarcastic when the question comes, creatively quipping something similar to what Bill Engvall would say and conclude with "here's your sign." But I haven't...yet.

So here's a typical response when we're out and about: "Are they twins?"

The first time I heard this I didn't know what to say. I was not prepared in the least bit for dealing with this question. I'm pretty sure, but I could be wrong, that a family who lost one of their twins don't get asked, "Is your baby a singleton?" It seems to me this awkward question is solely reserved for parents of more than one. No one told us that it was coming until it did. My initial response to this innocent inquisitor was, "No, they're triplets." Fortunately, the curious stranger just gave a quizzical look, said, "Oh," and walked away.

We have since dealt with many who are not-so-easily swayed. The question that usually follows after a silent head count is, "Well where's the third?" or "Is the other one hiding?" We used to go into way too much personal detail with the first few who asked, explaining exactly what happened to Joshua. We quickly realized we didn't want to make this innocent bystander uncomfortable so we began answering, "yes," to the question of twins.

Then the guilt settled in. We didn't have twins. We had triplets. They will always be triplets. Just because they lost one of their number does not change the fact that when they were born, Joshua and Samuel were identical and David was a fraternal triplet. Their birth certificates all read triplet. Every piece of hospital paperwork reads triplet. They are three, not two.

But how do you say this to a complete stranger? Do they really care? They're the ones who opened their mouths, attempting to be polite and engage the tired couple of two babies or just wanting to comment on a rare curiosity. We googled what people of multiples who lost one or more say. Some just succumbed to the new title. Others were sometimes rude about their response to these inquiring minds. One label stuck out to both Katy and I. It became our new answer.

Surviving triplets.

It seemed self-explanatory to us. Apparently it is not. This term has required us to go into more detail than when we used to just say they were triplets when asked. Katy is still using it frequently. I've taken a more direct approach.

When asked if the boys are twins, I politely say no, and continue about my business. It has worked brilliantly. Is it a little short? Sure. A little rude? Possibly. But I haven't made things awkward between the stranger and I and there is no guilt in claiming the boys are twins causing feelings of guilt for not discussing Joshua when given the chance.

There are times where I will talk about his passing, if the stranger is kind enough, but not often.

What we've learned from this debacle is that people are going to dig into your life, even when they shouldn't. It can't be helped. We can't change them, can't correct their behavior, all we can do is be kind to them and give them the benefit of the doubt.

Except in the case of a middle-aged woman Katy had the privilege of dealing with in the Costco parking lot.

Walking in opposite directions but close enough to speak to one another, the lady asked the customary, "Oh, are they twins?" Now what you must remember, is having two babies at home does not allow much room in the sleep department. When that is coupled with attempting to navigate Costco while also reigning in a five-year-old and comfort inconsolable screaming hungry infants, it makes for a not-so-patient momma. Katy, in her grace and mercy, answered the woman as she always does, by stating, "No, they're surviving triplets," and continued her expedition to the car. The woman, smarter than she spoke, realized what the term meant and, while turning to walk toward the building mumbled just loudly enough for Katy to hear, "Well that was awkward." Without missing a beat, the love of my life peeled off her normally kind-hearted spirit, turned on this unsympathetic human, and quipped, "Not as awkward as having your son die in your arms three hours after he was born, but hey, thanks for understanding."

I love my bride. Especially when she says things I would say.

The final piece to this enigma is interacting with friends and family who know what our situation is and call the boys twins. We know Joshua dying made you feel weird. It made us feel weird too. We also know most of us have never dealt with a family who gave birth to triplets and had one of them die. There's no right or wrong response to how the survivors would be labeled. It really will vary from family to family. Whatever the parents and eventually the survivors want to be called is what they should be called.

This whole ordeal has made us realize we can't judge those who have dealt with the loss of a child. Whether that loss was when the child was 60 and they were 80, or the child was 19 and the parents still had another one to love, or the mother miscarried, or the first ultrasound showed twins and a month later one "vanished." People have different ways of dealing with loss, grief, and sadness. If a family who's twin vanished called their babies twins for the rest of their lives, we have no room to judge. If another family next week had triplets, lost one, and wanted to call the survivors twins, then hey, that's what we should do.

It could be it hit us so hard because Joshua and Samuel were the identicals and the ones we thought we might end up calling the twins, and Samuel and David look similar but not exactly alike. I'm not sure. Either way, whenever someone calls them twins, we are instantly taken back to the hospital and are faced head-on with the grim reality that we don't have three living babies. We recognize we are extremely blessed to have two healthy baby boys at home and we try not to take that for granted, but we greedily and selfishly wish we had all three here on earth. We're thankful for the time we had with all of our boys, but wish that time was longer.

That being said, we aren't upset with people who have called our boys twins. We know it has never been to hurt us and we've never clarified what we want to call them so how could anyone know what was right and wrong to say? (One point of clarification, this post was originally written on Friday night, long before my conversation with anyone at church and I told them as much this morning, just so there is no misunderstanding) Our label for them, when talking about David and Samuel, is "the boys." If you want to call them the boys or the triplets that's fine with us. Both work. It may be confusing and we're sorry for that. You may disagree with us, but the fact of the matter is they will always be triplets, even if there are only two of them left. But for now, until we are all reunited, they are our boys.