Hallowe'en

Just over a week away, Hallowe'en awaits.

It's a fun and festive time for my kids, as it was for me as a child. A few years ago, I took the kids on a walk around our neighbourhood to show them the ghoulish decorations and carved pumpkins on display.

"What's that?" asks Ty, pointing to a skeleton.

"That's a skinny guy who didn't eat his oatmeal," I reply. It made an impression. Years later, he never refuses a bowl of oatmeal. Yay! He eats something!

Some of the daycare kids who go to the same school as my own went on a field trip to a local farm and came home with pie pumpkins.

"What do we do with these?" they ask.

"We scoop out the insides and carve faces into them."

"How do we do that?"

Well, first you need a pumpkin.

Carefully cut off the top and put it aside. Scoop out the insides into a separate bowl. Save the pumpkin seeds for a yummy treat.

Rinse the pumpkin seeds, cleaning them of pulp. Pat dry. Measure out 2 cups of pumpkin seeds. I was a little short, but close enough.

Add 1½ tbsp of melted butter and 1½ tsp of salt. I used sea salt, but any kind of salt will do. The sea salt gave these a flavour not unlike popcorn. Spray a cookie sheet with Pam or grease with oil and spread the seeds out evenly. Bake at 250º for 2 hours.

While the seeds are baking, carve basic shapes into the pumpkin to make eyes, a nose and mouth. Triangles, squares, rectangles are all great shapes to use. Unless you have specific tools or more talent than I do, I really don't recommend circles.

Our Jack-o-lanterns in full flame, complete with battery powered candles.

Happy Hallowe'en

The Star Finally Sleeps

Imagine living your life in the public eye. You are constantly peppered with questions. Followed discreetly in stores and on the street until your stalker works up the nerve to address you. You are the focus of everyone's attention. People point in your direction and whisper amongst themselves.

You've become an instant sensation, a kind of superstar. You'll never be mercilessly discredited in the Enquirer or featured in grace on the cover of People or Time. No one will ask you for your autograph. What you are is a piece of social curiosity. Something new. Different. Unusual.

You are the mother of twins.

I was always amazed at the never ending, inquisitive questions complete strangers assume are totally appropriate to ask another person in public. Some of the more common inquiries include:


"Did you have help?"

Um, what exactly do you mean by 'Help'?

...as in a book?
Yes, I couldn't believe it when "How to Knock Up Your Wife" was available on Amazon. People who bought this also liked, "The Person Behind the Double Stroller May Not be Thinking Rationally" and "The Art of Minding Your Own Business."

...as in a coach?
Nope. Me and the husband figured it out all on our own!

...as in medical intervention?
Only when the buns were cooked and needed to come out of the oven.

...as in fertility treatments?
There was talk of a Pink Floyd reunion tour. Does that count?


"Are they identical?"

Damn it, Jim! I'm exhausted, not a genetics professor. Ok, grab your slide rule and settle in.

As twins go, identical does not mean xerox copies. We're talking twins, not clones. Identical in twin terms means monozygotic (one zygote or basically one united cell). One egg + one sperm = 2 babies. That's complicated math, but essentially what you've gone and done is made two people from the same materials. These twins are almost always the same gender. They look strikingly similar, but subtle differences do exist in all identical twins. Fingerprints, are just one example.

In very rare instances, monozygotic twins result in one being male and one being female. Gender is determined by two sex chromosomes, one from mom (X) and one from dad (X or Y). Combine an X with a Y and you get a boy, an X and an X make a girl. Identical, different gendered twins occur when the female twin is afflicted with Turner Syndrome, a condition where she is missing one of the chromosomes that determine gender. You end up with Boy (XY) and Girl (X).

Turner Syndrome aside, boy / girl twins are not identical. These twins are fraternal or dizygotic. Obvious signs of this are in their diapers. They have different parts. Second, there's an extra prize in play for the sperm brigade. 2 eggs + 2 sperm = 2 babies. Fraternal twins are as different as any other siblings, each made from a random sampling of mom and dad pieces. They can be both male, both female or one of each.

When my kids were infants, feeding every 2 - 3 hours round the clock, I was asked this question by a well meaning friend of my mother's. "No," I replied, yawning, "they're nocturnal."


"How did you cope with postpartum depression?"

You're kidding, right? There was no time to do anything else but tend to the most essential of needs. Feedings, diaper changes, tummy time, getting to know two new members of our family, and keeping up with endless mountains of laundry were what consumed my day. We forced into this schedule time for my husband and I to eat. Sometimes, we slept. Anything else was relegated into the list of creature comforts. You know, non-essential stuff like having a shower, getting dressed, going pee, brushing my teeth. By the time postpartum depression might have developed, there was no time to acknowledge it and besides, I couldn't hear the voices in my head over the baby crying tinnitus that echoed in my ears.


"How do you tell them apart?"

Well, when I get really confused, it's usually time to change a diaper and 'POOF' there's the answer. Most of the time, though, I just look at them. The one dressed in pink is a big hint.


Now that my kids are older, my superstar days are in decline. I don't miss it. I am no longer the circus freak at the park, or the topic of conversation in the grocery checkout line. Now, I am just any other mother of two children. Meet my son and my daughter. They just happen to have the same birthday.

October

When I found out my friend was (finally) pregnant for the second time, I was overjoyed. When she told me she was pregnant with twins, I was ecstatic. When she told me the genetics testing indicated that one of the babies might have Down Syndrome, I told her not to worry, this is not uncommon news during a twin pregnancy. The genetics counselor told her the same thing and threw out the results from the blood work, calling it useless. Later in the pregnancy, a fetal cardiologist detected a heart defect common in children with Down Syndrome. Although the ultrasounds showed nothing that confirmed this diagnosis, nothing ruled it out either. I held on to slim slices of hope, I tried to reassure my friend. This couldn't be happening.

I went to visit my friend and her just born babies in the hospital. At 6 weeks premature, they were so very small. Barely 4 pounds, two little human beings lay in separate incubators, entangled in wires and tubes. While the nurse on duty spoke to my friend about how much her daughter was eating and gave her an update on her progress, I peeked in on her son. I looked for obvious signs of Down Syndrome, but I really didn't know what to look for. Then, I did something I don't normally do.

I prayed.

I prayed that the results were wrong. I prayed that if it was possible to put together an entire universe that ebbs and flows with pinpoint precision, surely this child was created with the same care and attention to details. I prayed as I spoke quietly to her son, "Welcome to the world, little man. You have some incredible parents and an older brother who love you like you can't possibly imagine. You just have to get stronger."

My friend came over to introduce us. "He's beautiful," I said, "I don't see it." She showed me the fold on his ear, she pointed out the shape of his eyes which wasn't obvious because they were closed. She told me he was karotyped at birth.

He has Down Syndrome.

One of the great mysteries of having twins is the onslaught of curious questions by complete strangers. "Are they identical?", "Did you have help?", "Do they have ESP?", "Are they related?". People mean well, I suppose, but stupid questions come with the territory. It's not always welcome when combined with exhaustion and postpartum hormones.

Apparently, stupid questions come in all flavours when you are the parent of twins, and one of them also has special needs. I'm sure I am guilty. Other than knowing that Down Syndrome, or Trisomy 21 is the result of an extra copy of the 21st chromosome, I was pretty clueless. I've learned quite a bit more from my friend's relentless efforts to educate and spread awareness through her blog, Down Wit Dat. I'm proud of her. I'm proud of what she's doing. I'm proud to support her efforts to improve the world her son will grow up in.

Seven months have passed since two very tiny infants were added to this world. I still don't see Down Syndrome when I look at the face of her youngest son. I know it's there, but there's a great deal more worth seeing. Strangely enough, her youngest son bears a striking resemblance to my grandfather with his round, bald head and his sincerely kind blue eyes. When her children smile, I see their mother's strength and dedication, their father's generosity and humour. There's also an unspoken understanding that will undoubtedly blossom into a protectiveness reserved only for the closest of siblings. When my friend and her husband are with their children, there is really only one thing I see.

Love.

For the month of October, Down Wit Dat will be blogging daily in honour of Down Syndrome Awareness Month, and will continue to do so for November 1 - 7 as well. Check out the Down Wit Dat page on Facebook.