Yesterday, my first babies turned 17. Their birthday always hits a little different than Micah and Jaxon's birthdays, because I never have to question whether Nick is celebrating along with me when Micah and Jaxon have a birthday. And Nick always celebrates the twins' birthday too, don't get me wrong. But there's always a big question mark around Lucas & Rylee's birthday as to why their biological father doesn't care enough to even text them or reach out to wish them a happy birthday. It stings every single year to think about the fact that the other person that is 50% responsible for their existence simply doesn't care enough to acknowledge the day of their birth, or the fact that they are incredible 17-year-olds (given that they are teenagers and intrinsically pre-destined to be assholes for a couple years at least). November 6th is such a big day in my own life, the day I became a mom 17 years ago, the day I felt what true fear and love and all the emotions all at once, in an all-consuming way meant. The twins' birth wasn't an easy one, and it was followed immediately by fear and worry and love and intense emotions for months, and especially for the first 11 days that they spent in the NICU. And to have the one other person who SHOULD feel as passionately about their existence as I do just not care or be aware or have the where-with-all to recognize all of this just simply not, it's tough.
Celebrations and sadness are a tough combo. I know that I'm not the only one who feels this way, because there are a lot of biological parents out there who simply don't show up for their kids. But it doesn't make the sting of it any less on days like this. To make it a little heavier, I told Lucas that I needed to talk to him on Sunday after we'd celebrated the twins' birthday with my family. I had gotten both him and Rylee bracelets this year, each with their own meaning, and when I gave it to him, he was thankful but he also said, "I thought maybe Corey reached out and that's why you wanted to talk to me." *Gut Punch*
The twins have so many incredible people in their lives that love them. They are good kids, and are making much better choices than I did at 17, that's for sure. I celebrate them most days, and especially on their birthday, I'm really grateful for who they each are as people, and for the relationship that I have with each of them. We grew up together in a lot of ways, the three of us. They saw me at my worst and they've seen me grow immensely in recent months since I really started putting my health and well-being at the forefront of my own priority list. They are people that I am thankful to be raising, and looking forward to being friends with later in life when they have families and kids and careers of their own. I not only love them, but I really enjoy them both. I'm blessed.
But I'm also a little angry at times, because the other person responsible for 50% of their DNA doesn't know them. He has no idea how incredible they are, how they get good grades and have a great group of friends, and how Lucas is basically a professional bowler and Rylee could lead a small army with her ASB leadership skills and her likeability. He doesn't see how much Lucas looks like him, not just in physical qualities but with his mannerisms and the crazy impulsive decisions he makes. He doesn't see in Rylee how guarded she is about letting people in, and how much she cares if someone is disappointed or upset. He doesn't know the first thing about who they are as 17-year-olds. What a shame that he's missing out on that, right?
I've learned over the years that it's ok to be sad and to process things a little bit differently on these days of celebration. It's ok that I'm sad for my kids at the same time that I am celebrating how incredible they are (and that we've all survived to their 17th birthday!). I know it's not something everyone can understand, because not everyone has this type of situation. But it's our journey, and it's a part of our story, the three of us.
I don't want this post to make anyone think any type of way about the kind of Dad that my husband has been to the twins, because he's done a much better job than I could have, walking into a situation where there were a lot of pre-existing people in the twins' lives and he did an incredible job of not forcing himself into any particular spot. He's gradually just become their Dad, because he's been here and he shows up for them. He does a lot of things differently than I would, but at the end of the day, he treats them like he is 50% responsible for their DNA. There's no difference to him between the four kids, and that means more to me than he'll ever know.
Even though there is some sadness on this day of celebration, there's so much more positive than negative. We are so blessed and I am thankful everyday for the crazy, feisty, funny, kind, amazing twins that I've raised with the help of the village we've created around us.
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