The thoughts started. "What if my child isn't normal? My child can't be different. God wouldn't let that happen. I'm sure it's nothing. What if it isn't nothing?" They weren't sure exactly what it was, but were certain it wasn't normal. At first they thought it might be a form of dwarfism. Later, the doctor would use the word "skeletal dysplasia", suggesting that our son would be born with some form of it but unsure exactly to what extent. They offered a procedure called amniocentesis to predict exactly what was "different" on a genetic level. We had talked it over and didn't want to abort the baby no matter what the findings were, so we decided it wasn't worth the slight risk of losing the baby.

Of course we googled the words "skeletal dysplasia" to find out what we were dealing with. Bad idea. Don't Google that phrase unless you are okay with looking at pictures of severely disfigured pictures of babies, children, and adults. The rest of the pregnancy was very trying for both of us.

Denial set in. For both of us at first, then primarily me. "We'll just pray, and have all our friends and family pray for our baby. Our prayers will be answered and he'll overcome whatever it is. He'll just be a little shorter than everyone else."

Micah Joseph was born on October 23, 2012. We were officially a family of three and I was officially a dad! He was a cute baby, as cute as a kid can look coming into this world I suppose. He even got cuter as time would go on. So in that respect, I suppose things weren't as tough as they could've been. We were immediately linked with lots of baby specialists. One such specialist was a genetic counselor. We both had our DNA tested and cross matched with the DNA of Micah.

Micah's brother, Maximus Parker, was born on November 14, 2015. We didn't know the odds of having another child with the same chromosomal abnormality going into it, but he was born with it as well. At least we were better prepared for what to expect this time. Max was in the NICU at Nationwide Children's Hospital in Columbus Ohio for quite a while. We took turns between giving Max the early attention he needed while spending time with Micah in the Ronald McDonald house. It was quite the battle to get Max out of the hospital as they wanted him to meet nutritional thresholds of typical newborns instead of comparing him to his older brother.

Eventually they were both home, and the daily routines were doubled. Double the feeding, double the diaper-changing, double the doctor appointments and therapy sessions. Neither child was able to latch during breast feeding, so Mallory was left with the task of pumping in order to feed them breast milk for the first year of their lives. I would help with cleaning bottles and pump equipment. Lots of waking up through the night, uninterrupted sleep was hard to find.

With so many special needs of two special young boys, it just made sense that I should work extra overtime shifts at the hospital while Mallory stayed home to tend to the boys. Besides the various specialty doctor's appointments, they needed to be transported to physical therapy, occupational therapy, and speech therapy. We also exposed them to equestrian therapy, aquatic therapy and swim lessons, and music therapy. Anything and everything we thought might enrich their lives, we exposed them to.

Lots of people look at us differently in public as well. My boys don't necessarily look "different" so many strangers might attribute their behaviors to improper parenting, which can really play an emotional toll. The boys can't be left alone for one second. They'll be pulling some stranger's hair, or pushing their younger brother down the stairs, or running into a busy street full of cars. There is no "break" with these boys, aside from respite care. And even then, it's hard to trust people we don't know personally these days.

For all their “shortcomings”, the boys make up for them exponentially in love and joy. They’re almost always happy and will brighten anyone’s day if given the opportunity. Sometimes just the expressions on their faces will light up a room. They don’t know they’re any different, and that’s all that matters. I do hope that their peers treat them like normal human beings with dignity and respect though, and it’s troubling to see them laughed at or picked on. But for the most part, kids around them are understanding nowadays, and they are making friends that love them just the way they are.

Life isn’t always fair. I never thought I would be a father to a child with special needs, let alone two children. Heck, I didn’t really understand what “special needs” were. I might never get to share custody like normal out-of-state parents (summers and holidays).