Guilt

I watch Olivia do somersaults and stand on her head and chase after her sister and push her cousin from behind and I wonder, "How did we get so lucky?"

I've made quite a few friends on Facebook through the 5p- Society. We've shared concerns and triumphs and there is a conference held each year at the end of July where parents and kids get together just to feel that sense of belonging that comes with knowing that the people around you understand.

After this year's conference, which we didn't attend, I was told by several parents that it was great. It was so nice to see the range of development in these kids.

One dad in particular said something along the lines of: "If you go next year, Olivia will definitely be the most advanced kid there."

I could read the wistfulness in his words.

His daughter is about a year older than Olivia, which makes her almost five. She started walking independently a couple of months ago. She's not talking a lot yet.

Her dad often instant messages me to ask how O is doing. I'm always honest but try very hard not to come across as braggy because...well, his daughter isn't doing as well.

He says our conversations give him hope that his little girl will catch up and start showing the same abilities that O has shown.

He asked me recently when she started actually conversing with us. It was when she was almost three years old, about six months after she started walking indepentently.

I told him what our PT said when Olivia was about 18 months old. When they're strong enough to stand up and walk, they'll be strong enough to push the air out of their lungs and talk.

And that's how it worked for Olivia.

I hope it works that way for his little girl. I hope this for him as well as for her. Imagine having a five year old brain, having all these thoughts and emotions and no way to get them out and share them with the world.

So frustrating.

Yet, as I'm talking to him, I find myself almost feeling guilty for how well Olivia is doing.

Which is so stupid. She's amazing, this little girl of mine. And I wouldn't change a thing about her. I'm so proud of her and I want to shout to the world that she's come so far and has amazing things ahead of her.

Julie and I were talking once about how we both suffer from something like survivor's guilt.

Her Riley was a micro preemie. She weighed less than two pounds and defied ALL the odds.

And Julie knows this. She's so proud of Riley's accomplishments. She wouldn't take them away from Riley for anything.

Yet...when she meets a parent of another micro preemie who isn't doing as well, she feels that pang. That sense of, "How did we get so lucky?"

I feel that too when I talk to the other parents of kids with 5p-. How did Olivia manage to defy the odds and speak so well? How is it she's walking and talking and running and laughing and eating well and so healthy?

I'm not asking the fates to take that away from us. I'm wishing for these amazing things for all kids and parents.

I wish there were no such thing as premature birth or genetic anomalies (TM Julie.) I wish every child were born with the same potential, the same chances, the same start. I wish that every parent could take home a fat, healthy full-termer without worrying about the health of their child or the state of their chromosomes.

But...the world isn't fair and so I guess Julie and I will continue to marvel over our miracles and feel twinges of guilt even as we gaze proudly at our girls and all they can do.