I Just Want You to Know_ Letters to My Kids on Love, Faith, and Family - Kate Gosselin [35]
As a parent, it is fascinating to watch your child develop before your very eyes and bloom into a unique individual. This fact does not change when raising multiples; however, the struggles to be able to single them out and celebrate their differences does increase. During this time I started to identify what made each child tick and consciously tried to encourage each one’s unique qualities. In fact, this is why I don’t refer to our children as twins and sextuplets—they’re individuals and this is how I view them. They each have their own needs, desires, and capabilities. Throughout life they are lumped into one group often enough by the outside world, so at home especially, they need to be encouraged to be confident in who they are as unique individuals.
Letter to Aaden
Dear Aaden,
As I sit here in the Big Blue Bus waiting for you and your brothers and sisters at the bus stop, I find myself thinking about you. You are quite an amazing little man and always have been. At a tiny 2 pounds 7.5 ounces at birth, you were the smallest of my babies. Your head was smaller than a baseball, and you had a miniscule amount of sandy blond-brown hair. You didn’t have quite enough hair though to fill in the swirly of the cowlick right in the center of your hairline above your forehead. That swirly always warmed my heart and made me smile. Today, it gives you that cute little spike of hair in the front.
Although you were small, you were tough—and alert! Your incubator was on a very busy aisle. It was across from Collin and next to Hannah—although a dividing wall stood between yours and Hannah’s incubators. One time I was holding you next to your busy aisle and your tiny squinty eyes followed whenever a doctor or a nurse would walk by. None of our medical team could believe how alert you were. It was so amazing to watch your little eyes following all the NICU activity.
You scared me though, Aaden! When you were two weeks old, I received a call that you were sick and that the staff caught it in time, but you slipped in your recovery. You had been doing very well and were scheduled to come home with the girls; but in the end, you and Collin came home last. The important thing is that you recovered and gained weight and were so precious! You were five pounds when you came home. Wow! Big boy!
My memories of you as a baby include you being rattled and disturbed by all of the stress and the noise in our house. You regularly cried inconsolably until you were in a dark and quiet place in the house (which was hard to find with ten family members and many helpers under one small roof) snuggled close to Mommy. Daddy would do an impression of your awareness—pursing his lips and looking around the room with your same squinty eyes. It always made us laugh!
At two, we found out you needed glasses. At first this upset me, but after you wore them for a while, I realized how extremely blessed we were that this was our only lasting effect of having six preemies—and I thanked God. You quickly grew into your new look. And the new job became keeping your glasses safely on your face. We went through many pairs and repair sessions. At over $200 a pair, it became an expensive task—but a necessary one, of course. To this day, I joke that you must think your name is “Where’s your glasses?” because when you come downstairs in the morning, even after three years, you invariably forget them; and I have to remind you to go get them—to which you reply, “Oh, I get them,” with your brow furrowed in your little scientific way.
As you have grown, I have enjoyed watching you develop into a quiet, thoughtful boy. You are sensitive and full of love and life. Every once in a while, something