I don't think I have ever told the story of my twin sons in detail. Even after more than 40 years it is painful as I can remember it as if it were yesterday. I will attempt to start the board off by telling my story in hopes you will understand that I have walked the road long ahead of you and that I do understand your pain. Our stories are all different and mine is certainly much different than anyone else's that I know of.

My twins, Roger and Russ, were born on Sept. 2, 1956. It was Sunday noon just before Labor Day that year ... and believe me I was in LABOR! They were a month premature so when they did not hold their heads up, roll over, or do any of the normal things by the time they were 9 months old they were put in the hospital for testing. A few days later I was told they had Cerebral Palsy and would never walk or talk. (Years later we discovered it was not Cerebral Palsy but a genetic defect called Fragile X Syndrome.) They had no muscle control. They were at the stage of a 3 mo.old baby but growing bigger every day. I kept them at home for nearly 4 years then found a nurse to care for them in her private home where she was caring for several retarded babies. I simply could not handle them any longer.

By this time I had my first daughter, Cindy, who was two years old and I was 6 mos. pregnant with my second daughter, Bonnie. (Later I was blessed with two more sons.) Imagine the bottles and diapers and baby food for three babies! And there were no disposables back then! Then one cold morning on February 9, 1961 my world came crashing down. I was notified that Russ had died of pneumonia! I knew he had a cold and had not been feeling well but was assured just the day before that he was doing okay. The doctor had been notified and he was given a shot and antibiotics.

I remember the last time I saw him and heard him cry. He didn't want me to leave him but I had no choice. I told him to be a good boy and not cry and that I loved him and would come back later. This haunts me to this day. The nurse in charge of their care had been negligent so I had to move Roger to another place farther away from home. Here I am, 6 mos. pregnant, with a 2 yr. old daughter and my other twin to see about plus the funeral arrangements!

I thank God for a wonderful supportive family, friends, and church members. There were no support groups back then. That is why I know the tremendous need for someone to talk to and share with. Roger lived to be 20 years old lying in a bed in a state institution where he died Nov. 9, 1976 from a seizure. Once again I buried a precious son whom I loved dearly. All those years we had traveled to visit him regularly and I cried my heart out every time. My greatest consolation is knowing that they are free and happy and safe in the arms of Jesus. No more pain and suffering, just complete peace and joy at last. Love will be continued .....