Seven years ago I was in the Christiana Hospital, on their “high risk” floor, watching “My Man Godfrey” and “White Christmas”. Jim was going to come down later and we were going to hang out, have dinner, watch a movie or two and he was going to sleep over. I had been in the hospital for 11 days so far. They were even going to move me to a different room down the hall–it was larger, quieter and farther away from the nurses’ station.
By 2:13pm I was a mother to four babies instead. You can read the story here.
Seven years later, I look at these children–these “adults in training”– and am amazed at them. Their creativity, their kindness, their stubbornness, willingness to help, their completely different personalities. They play together, sometimes, with the complete abandonment to everything but their fantasy world they’ve created. Other times there is the manufactured “let’s include Ethan.”, which is painful to watch as a mother.
We celebrated their party on Saturday, and the living room looks like Christmas. Now comes the fun of trying to find homes for everything.
Happy Birthday, my dear children. And God, if you do this sort of thing, would you tell Connor I said Happy Birthday and that I love him, too?