My Caulder man turns 5 today. I've been thinking a lot about all the junk this little guy's already had to deal with in his 5 short years. What is it about birthdays that make you get all emotional? Is it just me, or do I have an extra case of the mom crazies? I wrote this post and then let it sit and sit because I don't usually get this personal, but it's been bugging me that someday when Caulder grows up and reads these blog entries he'll see plenty of posts where I pour my heart out about Tukker, but none where I really talk about how awesome he is. I always share naughty Caulder stories and funny things he says and all the hilarious things he does, but I don't think I've ever really shared what makes him so amazing to me. So today's the day. If I get the guts to click "publish post," anyway.
Everywhere we go people ask us how Tukker's doing and talk about what a miracle he is. And don't get me wrong, we love it. Seriously. We absolutely eat it up. But Caulder never hears that about himself. And so of course I worry that he'll think he rates less than his brother just because he was a boring, healthy, full-term baby (which, if you ask me, is a true miracle. You spend much time in the NICU and see all the kajillions of things that can go wrong in a pregnancy and you realize any child that actually makes it full term and is born with zero complications is a serious miracle).
And he's had lots of his own struggles - they're just not as obvious or as talked about as Tukker's. Although he's grown out of it a little, he's always been a very anxious, nervous little guy. Even as a baby new situations freaked him out. So imagine being not quite 3 years old and having your carefully ordered world turned completely upside down when you wake up one day to find your mom on bed rest and your parents emotional disasters. He was too little to really understand what was going on, but too smart not to get that something big and awful was happening to his family. I remember him bringing me a handful of tissue one day while I sat crying on the couch and saying, "Here mom, now you can feel better and start playing with me again."
And then imagine your world spinning completely out of control after your baby brother arrives. When Caulder was that age he still had a hard time getting dropped off for play dates with his cousins. And even going to his grandma's houses made him a little nervous most of the time. But after Tukker was born we had to dump Caulder on our family members almost every day because he was only allowed in the NICU with us on weekends and holidays. Our whole lives revolved around the hospital and phone calls from neonatologists and nurses. There were days I couldn't stop crying, and poor Caulder had to soak this all in and try to process it with his almost 3-year-old brain.
I was talking with another NICU mom one day at the hospital, and when she found out I had an older child I remember her telling me something like, "Oh, that must be so hard. I'm so lucky my preemie is my only child so I don't have to juggle other kids." And she was right about the juggle - it wasn't easy - but I couldn't help thinking how she was wrong. I felt so lucky to have another child because some days Caulder was the only thing getting me through.
Most of our nights were difficult that first 2 months after Tukker was born, but I can remember a few particularly horrible ones where I felt like my heart was a traitor because it just kept on beating even though I swore I was hurting so much it should have just given me a break and given up. On those nights I could never sleep, and Tukk was usually too unstable for me to go be with him (on his worst nights even standing near enough to is his isolette that he could hear you talk would make his heartrate climb dangerously and his oxygen levels drop), so I'd sit out on the couch wondering if this would be the night I lost my baby. On my darkest nights I wondered if God even remembered who I was or had any idea about what I was going through, because no matter how hard I prayed or how much I begged, Tukker didn't get any better.
On those nights when I didn't think I could deal with all of this for one more minute I'd go crawl in bed with Caulder and hold on to him. Some nights I'd lie there for hours just holding on to a handful of his pajamas, and somehow having his warm little body next to me reminded me that Heavenly Father must love me, because he gave me Caulder. And I'd remember why my faithless heart kept beating... I still had this little boy to give it a reason. 
Towards the end of Tukk's hospital stay Caulder had completely had it with getting dropped off so we could go to the hospital. We were trying to get Tukk nursing so he could come home, so I had to be there twice a day to feed him. It had gotten so bad for Caulder that when Cole was home from work we'd take turns going to the hospital so one of us could stay home with CJ. But one night Cole was gone and I needed to go up for a feeding, so I tried to make it easier on Caulder by asking him which grandma's house he wanted to go to that night. He started crying and said, "I don't want to go anywhere. Can't I just stay home with you?"
It broke my heart. I felt like I'd been put in a situation where I had to choose between my children, and where doing what was best for one of them meant doing what was worst for the other. Even thinking about it now - almost 2 years later - squeezes my heart. Because that night I chose Tukk. I didn't really have a choice, but I still feel guilty about it. And Cole and I both worried that Caulder would end up resenting his brother for taking us away from him so much, or hating us because we put him second.
But Caulder has never once, not even for a second, held it against his brother. He was so excited the day Tukker got to come home, and he's spent the last two years loving and watching out for and cheering Tukker right along with us. He's so proud whenever Tukker accomplishes something new, and he genuinely doesn't seem to mind all the extra attention his baby brother gets.
He's even forgiven me for making him take a back seat to his brother all those times. I genuinely believe that God sends the strongest spirits to families who have to go through something like what we went through with Tukker, because it puts a strain on the whole family, and these little guys have to stand through it and help carry their much weaker, much less faithful parents through it all. Caulder certainly helped carry me through those days, and I'm so, so grateful I had him to hold on to when I felt like I was losing myself in heartache. So Tukker is definitely my little miracle man, but my Caulder James will always be my hero.
Tukk using a fork properly
Tukk after a campfire
Tukk at church
Tukk eating chocolate-dipped fruit 
Tukker inherited his love of blankies and finger sucking from me.
Caulder inherited his infatuation with fart noises from his Uncle Kory, who still thinks nothing is funnier than some good flatulation. And he inherited his ability to babble on and on meaninglessly from me (if you read my blog you already figured that out). 
Both boys had their love of sweets passed down to them from my Grandpa Fred, whose favorite food is whipped cream (with onions in lemon Jell-O coming in a very close second).
They inherited the ability to look ultra fly in cowboy boots from their Grandpa Farney.
And they got their pug noses from their uncles Kolby and Kory.
Tukk gets his curly hair from Cole's Grandpa George, who sported a thick, beautiful head of curly silver hair even in his old age.
Although Grandma Sarah might argue that one, judging by this pic of her afro-tastic hair.
Caulder inherited his jaw-jutting habit from me.
And Tukk inherited his extra long crack issues from his Aunt Jess (I never claimed that my genetic theories would make scientific sense).
Both boys inherited their penchant for troublemaking from their dad. He'll deny it, but look at this picture. You can't tell me that doesn't look like trouble. Cole's the dark-haired one in the middle. You know, the one who looks like he could be the leader from Lord of the Flies.
