Questioning their existence might seem grossly inappropriate now that they’re walking and talking, each with distinct personalities, but a few still raise such issues, says Louise. The twins were largely kept indoors this fall and winter to avoid the H1N1 virus, but normally the girls are included in all family activities. They love trips to the pool, where they revel in the freedom of movement the water affords. And they piled into a motorhome for a cross-country trip last summer to see family in Swan River, Man.
“We still have people who say, ‘Why do you bring them out?’ ” says Louise. Simms chuckles, adding people regret those questions if her 22-year-old sister Rhea is around. “Rhea doesn’t have kids, but when she’s with her nieces and she hears somebody say something, it’s like momma bear comes out,” she says. “Rhea has such a big mouth; she doesn’t hold anything back.” As for the twins, surrounded by a houseful of rambunctious children, they seem neither frustrated by their limitations, nor curious about their differences, she says. “You can ask them where is sissy, and they’ll just say, ‘Behind me.’ ”
There have been a few health scares along with the advances in the past year. They had a couple of frightening seizures, although, with medication, those ended six months ago. Last April, Tatiana, who had been struggling to breathe, had her enlarged adenoids removed. The normally routine operation at the Children’s Hospital in Vancouver was, of course, more complex. Both girls had to be anaesthetized. Tatiana, and therefore both girls, have flourished since the operation. Trips to their specialists in Vancouver are made only every six months. They visited their Vernon-based pediatrician last week for a checkup. Together they weighed about 53 lb., a nine-pound jump in four months. “Their hearts and everything are perfectly fine,” says Louise. “Nothing to worry about.”
One of the great unanswered mysteries is their degree of connectedness. Louise hints this issue will be explored in depth in the documentary. “Everybody is going to know just how vastly these two are conjoined,” says Louise. “We’re talking medical firsts.”
Already there are clues that they are distinct individuals who share a hard-wired bond that goes well beyond the psychic link some twins seem to share. Krista, the bigger girl, is more strong-willed.
“She’s the diva. She can get quite mean with her sister, as you can see,” says their mother, wincing at Tatiana’s scratches. Krista is also more verbal: she’s the first to learn new words and phrases.
Tatiana is the climber, using her sister as support as she clambers onto a chair or their push car.
She’s also the more patient, deferring to her heavier twin. There are times she wants to follow her own interests, and fights begin. “Krista will want to go to sleep, and Tatiana wants to watch TV,” says their mother. “And then [Krista] gets mad. That’s when most of the war wounds happen.”
Mostly, out of necessity, they work together in seamless fashion. One of their favourite jobs is unloading the dishwasher. From one pair of hands to the other, to whoever is putting the dishes up in the cupboards. The family has already made plans to enrol the twins, when they are of age, in the same school attended by their brother Christopher, 5, and older sister Rosa, 7. It’s run by their Seventh-day Adventist Church. The twins are known and accepted there, and the classes are small.
With an eye to the future, the family has signed a further five-year contract with the Discovery Channel. Louise says it will provide enough compensation to help build a nest egg for the twins, “so they can do what they want and live comfortably.” There’s plenty of family support if anything happens to the grandparents or parents, she says. “But Felicia and I would like to make sure they’re taken care of, to go to college and do all that fun stuff,” she says. “Can you imagine them becoming surgeons? Four hands!”
There is much beyond imagining, says Grandpa Doug. He describes them sitting silently, playing with toys or watching TV. “All of a sudden one of them will pipe up and say, ‘No, stop that.’ Or they’ll be sitting there playing with toys or something and one of them will stop, reach over, grab the bottle and just hand it to the other one,” he says. He looks at them and wonders: “How did you know she wanted a drink?”
The answer to that and so much more is locked in the tangled brains of two little girls, named for the fairies that so fascinate their mother. At three, they don’t have the language skills to explain such mysteries. That may come soon enough. If, indeed, there are words adequate to describe such marvels.
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