Several years ago, Mary Elizabeth used to write a newsletter column for the Nassau County Mothers of Twins Club, of which she was an active member before her stroke.

The column was called, “When Does It Get Easier?” and  included a few paragraphs on our own experiences with a particular aspect of raising our twins, and then ran comments and responses from other mothers (mostly) of multiples.  It ran for a few years, and in fact we compiled it into a book but there wasn’t enough interest to pursue publication.

At any rate, one of the things we used to tell people at the time was that while we were just coping with twins, we couldn’t fathom what it must be like having triplets.  It seemed like a completely impossible task.

As Mary Elizabeth received comments for the newsletter, we started to hear similar sentiments from parents of twins and higher multiples.  In fact, a mother of triplets said she was just holding on with three, but couldn’t possibly manage raising quadruplets – that would be impossible.  I’m not sure if we heard from any parents of quadruplets with a similar thought about quintuplets, but it was pretty striking.

Since Mary Elizabeth’s stroke, I have heard from more than a few people that whenever they start feeling sorry for themselves, they think of me and Mary Elizabeth and feel much better.

To clarify, I know that these comments aren’t meant to be disparaging in any way – they mean that by comparison, they’re lucky and should think of themselves that way.

It’s ironic, because on most days, I think the same thing.  Yes, the impact of her stroke has been catastrophic – particularly for Mary Elizabeth – but also for our children, her mother and me.  But  I think about how much worse things could be, and that gives me some measure of comfort and gratitude.

Because I’ve said before (and I’m really trying hard not to sound like a Pollyanna) we have a lot to be thankful for, and by focusing on that – rather than what’s wrong – we’ll ultimately do better.

That’s not to say that there aren’t dark moments – or even days – but at least we’re trying to find things to be thankful for and to help our kids do the same.

As a caregiver, I frequently get overwhelmed and sometimes feel impatient with people who express positive thoughts, “Oh, but she looks GREAT!  You must be so thrilled!” And rather than think dark thoughts like “Yeah, spend a few days in my shoes and you may see things differently.” I have to learn to say to myself, “You know what? She does look great!” and take pleasure in that.  I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to honestly say that I’m thrilled with our situation, but I can say that we’re approaching something a little bit closer to comfort than we had before.

Is this a trend?  We’ll see.  And hope.