Its one of those things that just happens.
Emily and John had been counting the days until their little boy arrived. The pregnancy turned out to be a hard one, and baby Harvey was born a few weeks early, slumped in a tiny incubator. Many of his organs were underdeveloped, he needed a ventilator, two surgeries, and even a retinal detachment repair.
They were allowed to say goodbye twice before the doctors managed to keep him alive. He survived, but his sight and hearing were barely there. Physically he slowly caught up he sat up, grabbed a toy, shuffled along a support rail but his mind was stuck in neutral.
At first Emily hoped the two of them could manage together. Soon John drifted away, leaving Emily to fight the battle alone. When she finally found a NHS funding slot, at three and a half Harvey received cochlear implants. He could hear now, but progress still crawled. He went to speech therapists, occupational therapists, psychologists and every other specialist you can think of.
Emily brought Harvey to my practice countless times. I kept suggesting one thing, then another, and she tried them all. Nothing stuck. Most of the day Harvey would sit quietly in his playpen, twirl a piece of plastic, tap it on the floor, bite his own hand, or let out a long, mournful wail sometimes in a single note, sometimes in a wavering trill. Emily swore he recognised her voice, greeted her with a special chirp, and loved it when she scratched his back and tickled his feet.
Then an elderly psychiatrist finally said, What diagnosis are we looking for now? A walking vegetable. Make a decision either place him in longterm care or keep looking after him. Youve learned how, havent you? I dont see any hope for a big breakthrough, nor any point in burying yourself in his playpen. He was the only person who spoke plainly. Emily enrolled Harvey in a specialist nursery and went back to work.
A few months later she bought a motorbike shed always wanted one. She started cruising the streets and the countryside with a club of fellow riders; the roar of the engine washed away her worries. John paid maintenance payments, and she spent them all on weekend carers. Harvey wasnt terribly highmaintenance once you got used to his rhythm.
One of the bikers, Stan, told Emily, Youve got something tragically fascinating about you.
Come on, Ill show you, she replied.
Stan smiled, assuming she was inviting him over for a nightcap. Instead she led him to the playpen. Harvey, lively as ever, let out a chirpy trill as if hed recognised his mum or was startled by the newcomer.
Blimey, thats something! Stan exclaimed.
And what do you think it is? Emily shot back.
Soon the riding gang was more than a weekend hobby they were a household. Stan and Emily agreed never to let Harvey near Stans bike (they discussed it beforehand), and Emily wasnt about to change that. One day Stan suggested, Lets have a baby.
Emily snapped, If we get another one like this, what then?
Stan fell silent for nearly a year, then finally said, No, lets go ahead.
Victor was born, perfectly healthy. Stan, looking smug, asked, Shall we put Harvey in a care home now that we have a proper son?
Emily retorted, Id rather hand you over. Stan quickly backpedalled, I was just asking
At about nine months, Victor discovered Harvey crawling. He was instantly fascinated. Stan grew nervous, warning Emily, Dont let the little boy near him it could be dangerous. Yet Stan spent most of his time at work or on his bike, while Emily let Victor explore. When Victor crawled past, Harvey didnt wail. In fact, he seemed to listen, waiting. Victor would bring toys, demonstrate how to play, and even gently squeeze Harveys fingers.
One weekend Stan fell ill and stayed home. He watched Victor wobble around the flat, babbling something like a plea, while Harvey trailed him like a shadow in the corner of the room. Stan erupted, demanding a fence around his son to keep him away from the idiot. Emily simply pointed to the door.
Stan was taken aback, they patched things up, and Emily came to see me.
Hes a bit of a log, but I love him, she said. Terrible, isnt it?
Its natural to love your child, regardless of I began.
Actually Im talking about Stan, she clarified. Harvey is dangerous for Victor whats your take?
I told her that, by all accounts, Victor was the steady one in the pair, but supervision was still essential. They agreed on that.
At eighteen months Victor taught Harvey to stack blocks by size. Victor himself could string sentences together, hum simple songs, and recite nonsense rhymes like A crow cooked porridge.
Emily asked, Is he a prodigy?
Stan wants to find out, I replied. A bloke so proud hell burst if the neighbours kids cant talk yet.
I think its because of Harvey, I suggested. Not every toddler gets to be the locomotive for someone elses development.
Emily cheered, Well, Ill tell this wooden block with eyes.
I pictured the family as a walking vegetable, a wooden block with eyes, a motorbikeriding mum, and a budding prodigy. After learning to use the potty, Victor spent six months coaxing his brother into it. Teaching Harvey to eat from a cup, dress and undress Emily set that task for Victor herself.
When Victor turned three and a half, he asked bluntly, Whats up with Harvey?
First off, he cant see, Victor replied.
He can see a bit, Victor corrected. Just not well. He sees better in certain light the bathroom lamp over the mirror works best.
The ophthalmologist was amazed when a threeyearold was brought in to explain Harveys vision, but he listened, ordered further tests, and prescribed strong glasses.
Victors nursery never clicked. He should be in school already! Such a bright lad! the caretaker grumbled. Hes not a troublemaker; he just knows more than the rest of us.
I argued against early school entry: let Victor stay in clubs and keep working on Harveys development. To my surprise Stan agreed, telling Emily, Sit with them until school, why bother with that silly nursery? And have you noticed hes stopped wailing for almost a year?
Six months later Harvey babbled, Mum, dad, Victor, give me a drink, meowmeow. The boys started primary school together. Victor fretted, How will he manage without me? Will the special school understand him? In class, Harvey still works alongside Victor before moving on to his own tasks.
Harvey now strings simple sentences, can read, and handles a computer. He enjoys cooking and tidying (under Victors or Emilys watchful eye), sitting on the garden bench to watch, listen, and sniff the world. He knows every neighbour and always says hello. He loves molding plasticine, building and taking apart LEGO sets.
But his favourite thing of all is the family ride out on motorbikes down country lanes he on his mums bike, Victor on his dads, all of them shouting into the wind.
