Eliot had a G.I. appointment this morning, and just the two of us went. The idea of having twins is so celebrity, so ideal to a lot of people, but what no single-baby parent understands is that I constantly feel like I miss out on my children. I'm so busy taking care of both of them that I forget to enjoy either one.
So, this morning just mom and daughter went to the appointment, and Owen got some grandma time. And I have to tell you, I was SO excited about it. First of all, Eliot's G.I. doctor is awesome. He has been with us since El was three months old. You all remember that he came in at the last minute, after we had been beaten down by one doctor, and told us that Eliot DID NOT need a g-tube surgery before she left the NICU; that she SHOULD start a blenderized diet instead of stay on that nasty formula crap; that there would come a day when she WOULD NOT throw up; and that she ABSOLUTELY, without a doubt should go to the Marcus Institute to learn how to eat. He has given us so much hope and support over the past two years.
So, I couldn't wait to see him, and hug him, and show him my beautiful daughter that he has constantly coached and cheered for.
"She looks amazing." That's how he started. I mean, really. What a way to start.
"She is amazing," I smiled.
Eliot quickly showed him her Elmo sticker that she had conned the nurse into after she got weighed. He seemed impressed.
"Is she eating?"
"Like a teenage boy," I replied.
"Is she puking?"
"Not in months."
"Did you take her off the reflux meds?"
"Yes sir. Without your advice or approval."
He laughed. He knows me well.
He listened to her heart, examined her g-tube scar, touched her gut a bit, and then said, "Go enjoy this baby. It's been two long years. Go enjoy everything."
"You mean you're kicking us out?"
"I don't need to see her again. She's normal, perfectly healthy."
"Normal?" I thought. "NORMAL?" I've spent the last two years waiting for normal. And now, here we are. Me and this beautiful kid with her Elmo sticker that she keeps sticking to my thigh.
We said our goodbyes. The nurses that have been so good to us got out from behind their desks and gave her a hug (and more stickers). She waved at them all, and we walked out of the G.I. office - hopefully for the last time.
I let her press the down arrow button on the elevator. I let her stick the sticker to my leg. I let her splash in the puddles on the way to the car. And then, I picked her up, gave her a kiss, and put her in her car seat.
I have loved this child from the beginning. The 2 pound, 2 ounce beginning. I have absolutely loved to watch her fight, and overcome, and defy odds. But man, it will be so nice to just enjoy life now; to let her be a "normal" toddler, and not just a 27-week preemie trying to catch up. She won't need to go to a specialist every couple of months this year. I'm so happy for her. So proud.
I looked at her in the rearview mirror, and said, "Eliot, I love being your mother."
She looked back at me with those big blue eyes that came from who knows where, and said, "Elmo?"
Which, I'm pretty sure in some culture - somewhere - must mean, "Thanks, mom. I love being your daughter."
Yea. I'm pretty sure that's what Elmo must mean.