Twin-a-thetics

B"H,

A Short Story?

Mommy, tell the baby to stop talking to me.

Isaac, the baby is asleep.  She is not saying anything.

Mommy, she won't stop talking to me... she's not using her voice... it is like a straight line between two souls.  She won't stop telling me things.  I'm tired and I want to sleep. 

What are you talking about?

Mommy, it is called "twin-a-thetics".  This is how she talks to me all the time. 

Oh.  (I think to myself that I have never heard of anything called "twin-a-thetics".)  Oh, okay, I'll tell the baby that it is time to go to sleep, ... that she should stop talking to you. 

Thank you, Mommy. 

Rach', Rachel, your brother is tired.  He would like to go to sleep.  Would you please wait until the morning to finish telling him all these things?  (What things!!!?  What could she possibly be telling him?  I am whispering into the ear of a sleeping baby. )

Okay, Isaac, the deed is done. 

Thank G-d, Mommy.  She said that she'd finish up in the morning just like you have asked.  Good night. 

(I hear my little boy recite the words of our "Shema" and the house settles into the quiet calm of night.)

That was a number of years ago before Rachel could actually speak.  Today she has a lot to say and we all get to hear it.  One day when she was talking non-stop to her brother, he left the room holding his ears with his hands.  When he finally returned, he came to me and said, "Mommy, she is making me crazy!"

I replied, "Do you remember when your sister was born.  The doctor made a big deal about the fact that she would never speak.  People with Down Syndrome don't speak.  Oh, sure maybe a word here and there.  Perhaps even a phrase now and then but actual speaking with content.... oh never.  IT'S A MIRACLE ! ! !"

My son was not happy with this answer.  "Mommy,"  my son furrowed his brow and pointed his finger at me, "Mommy, some miracles are easier to live with than others." 

Yes, indeed.  

There are times when I see a young mom at the end of her patience, screaming at a joyous child jumping out of lockers in the locker room naked as the day she was born.  What could I possibly say to this young woman?  On occasion I have tried to interrupt the tension and frustration by asking a simple question.  "If you had been told on the day your daughter was born, that she would never stand or walk or climb or jump... and today was the first time in her entire life that she climbed and jumped... how would you then be feeling?"  My words certainly do not relieve that woman's exhaustion or frustrations or the fact that they are running late for something very important.  But, isn't it a miracle to see a healthy child celebrating care-free joy.  It is a miracle.  

Yes, some miracles are easier to live with than others.