I should have been so happy. This was our dream. Not only had God seen fit for us to have a child, He blessed us with two. I should have been beaming. I was wretched.

I had never felt so sick in all my life. That is saying a lot, because God in his divine Providence not only saw fit to give me two babies, He also saw fit to allow me to be born with a variety of extremely rare ailments. I was born a geneticists dream, with a variety of anomalies. Those problems have led me to the hospital on various occasions. I knew my way around IV's, central lines, and countless other procedures. This pregnancy, however, took the cake.

I was also uncomfortable. I had never known my body in a pregnant state and it wasn't pretty. I was huge. Carrying two babies at the same time is just not what we are designed to do. My respect for women that carry higher order multiplies grew overnight, in synch with my ever expanding waistline.

I was in and out of the hospital. I had fluid around my heart, severe chest pain, and my legs were so swollen I looked like a baby elephant. My dear husband went out and bought me a size 10 slipper, I normally wear a size 7, and I still could not get it on my feet. It was awful.

Friends came a prayed with me. One dear friend drove down and gave me a manicure and a pedicure. It was one of the nicest things anyone had done for me in a long time. I did not care that I could not see my toes, I knew they looked pretty. I would take long hot showers and pray the end would come. Little did I know how those prayers were about to be answered.

We knew we were having boys. Scott and I toyed around with names until we realized the only way we would ever agree is by each naming one. We had some veto power, if one of us chose a name like Rufus, for example. I named Aaron Paul and Scott named Connor James. We had a baby shower, filled a closet up with diapers, set up the nursery, and waited for the day we would hold our two tiny little boys in our arms.

Joel was struggling. Life was not easy on our little guy. Scott took every Thursday off to take him to therapy and be with him at home. I was put on bedrest at 21 weeks, which meant I could not care for him anymore. We had great friends that pitched in to help. My sister took him two days a week. Our church family rallied around us and supported us. We do not know how we could have made it through without them.

We tried to explain to Joel that he was going to have two brothers. It seemed a bit odd to him and he wasn't quite sure what to think. We told him Mommy had two babies in her tummy and he was going to be a big brother. He was going to be two and a half when they were born, so I knew I would most likely find myself with a jealous toddler. His poor world was turned upside down, and Mommy wasn't even around to make it all better.

I was in and out of the hospital. My wonderful doctor realized she was not comfortable with my care so she sent me to a high risk practice. I had to go down weekly for ultrasound and visits, if I wasn't already admitted. The day after Halloween the pain in my chest was so severe, I was taken by ambulance all the way to the high risk doctors in their beautiful hospital. I stayed for 3 weeks.

I was back and forth and finally discharged the day before Thanksgiving. I knew something was wrong but the doctors said I could go home. I had a low grade fever and continued to have contractions. They said the contractions were normal with a twin pregnancy and to call if it got worse. We lived about an hour from the hospital, and I knew Scott was getting very tired of the drive. I was also tired of staring at the same four walls day after day, and agreed to go home.

My Mother in Law was visiting from New York when I walked in the door. I felt weak and dizzy. I lay on the couch feeling and watching my swollen belly harden with contractions. I wasn't in any pain, but I felt very sick. Scott told me to go on to bed, I would feel better in the morning. As I walked up the steps, I thought I was going to faint. I held on the handrail and slowly crept up the stairs. As I put my head down I had a strong suspicioun that something was terribly wrong.

At 2:00am I woke up and was feverish. I was burning up and I didn't know what to do. I did not want to disturb Scott, so I made my way downstairs and found a thermometer. I took my temperature, stared and the numbers in disbelief and tried to take it again. Once again the readout was the same. 104.3 I panicked and called my doctors. Things were not looking good.

Joel was 18 months old. I was sick. I felt uncomfortable and couldn't figure out why. I was exercising almost everyday and was in good shape. My jeans were still getting tight and I felt light headed. I finally decided to take a pregnancy test, even though I was certain it would be negative. It wasn't.

I sat on the toilet staring at this little white stick. There were two blue lines staring back at me. I was in shock. I ran out to the store with Joel in tow and bought two more tests. The answer was the same. I decided then something else was causing a false positive. I called Scott and told him. I reassured him I could not be pregnant, but we needed to find out what was causing this. I then called my doctor, who assured me the test was right but I could come in for some blood work. After all the tests were in, Scott and I sat in the doctor's office waiting for the news. We were anxious, expecting the worst. Suddenly, the door bursts open and my smiling doctor laughs as he shares the good news. We really were having a baby!

Three weeks later I knew I was pregnant. I could not stop vomiting. I had never felt so sick in my life. I would take a sip of water and it would all come up. My Mom came down to help me and realized I needed to go to the hospital. I was so dehydrated I couldn't even think clearly.

After two days on IV fluids, I was hydrated, but I still could not keep anything down. My regular Doctor has a daughter that works for him. She is a feisty petite woman with a heart of gold. She decided to take over my case and become my regular doctor. She ordered an emergency ultrasound to make sure the baby was okay, since my morning sickness was so severe.

They wheeled me down to ultrasound and I wished Scott was with me. He was on his way to the hospital to see me, and did not know the ultrasound had been ordered. As I lay on the table, the technician kept asking me questions. I felt so sick I could barely answer. As she rubbed the paddle around my abdomen the only words I kept hearing were, "Hum, mmmm, wow..." I began to get worried. I finally mustered the strength to ask her if the baby was okay. She smiled and nodded. I then asked the fateful question which God alone must have put in my mind, "There is only one, right?" Her smile grew as she turned the monitor toward me. "No, there's two, hon. Here is baby A and here is baby B." I burst into tears.

As the technician printed off the first pictures of our babies, she asked me if I was surprised. I then told her our story. She was so excited she decided she wanted to wheel me back to my room so she could be there when I told Scott. As she weaved through the hospital corridors, I could not peel my eyes off these little black and white pictures in my hands. They looked like little organisms I studied in biology class. They were our babies.

Scott was waiting in my room. He stood up with a look of concern. He didn't know where they had taken me and wanted to know if I was okay. I smiled and said I was in ultrasound. I then asked him to sit down. I have an aunt with twins, who Scott knows. I looked him in the eye and said, "You know Aunt Connie?" He nodded. Then I handed him the ultrasound. As he stared at the picture his mouth dropped. He was stunned. The technician was clapping and smiling. Scott and I were in shock. We knew everything was about the change, again.

The entire ride home was surreal. Joel, our new son, waited until he was strapped in his car seat to open his eyes. Danielle had tried all evening to wake him up, but he kept his eyes sealed shut the entire time. As soon as he was alone with us, he popped open his beautiful brown eyes and gazed into mine. I melted and knew right away this child was meant to be. He was meant to be ours.

I sat in the back of our second hand Infiniti, the car I always felt so cool driving, and checked out my son. I looked at his toes, his fingers as they curled around mine, his little dimple on his chin and his amazingly long eyelashes. He was perfect. He was ours.

The next few months went by so fast. The cool Infiniti was replaced with a safer SUV. I stopped working and devoted all my time to my newborn son. Joel was such an easy baby, that life was easy. He rarely fussed and he slept through the night by six weeks of age. He would happily spend time in his swing while I cleaned up the house and did the laundry. Life was wonderful.

Joel was always an active baby. He climbed out of his crib by 8 months. He walked before his first birthday. He had an incredible pain threshold. We always just thought he was a tough little boy, until one day he burned his finger. He was 18 months old and ran up to a hot grill. He placed his finger on it and it turned beet red. Joel didn't even flinch. We knew then there was something wrong.

After different evaluations Joel was diagnosed with Sensory Intergration Dysfunction. We had never heard of such a thing. As a former teacher, I thought I knew about all kinds of dysfunction. This one, however, was new to me. We found out it was new to many people, and often people questioned the validity of such a disorder. We knew we wanted what was best for our son, and began therapy right away.

Joel did well in therapy, and we began to see some changes in his behavior. He became more cautious when he played. He started to sleep under the covers. He let us hug and kiss him more. It was so wonderful to see these little triumphant changes in him. We knew he was getting better. Though we knew there were some things with which he would always struggle, we were seeing some of his idiosyncrasies fade away. We were on the right road.

Through it all Joel was a trooper. He not only had therapy twice a week, but he also had to have tubes put in his ears due to chronic ear infections. Though he never complained about the pain in his ears or the jostling and body brushing in therapy, we knew he was uncomfortable. He handled everything with such strength. We were so proud of him.

After four weeks of therapy, we all received a some shocking news. Joel's life was never going to be the same.