Today marks the anniversary of my admittance into the hospital. Funny that it's already been a whole year and here I sit with not 3 but 2 little ones who are barely larger than a typical newborn - though I should point out that they have all the sass and pizzazz if not more of any other almost toddler on the block! I am amazed daily - no by the minute or second by how much we've endured - by how our priorities have changed- by the many many MANY blessings and peaceful moments we've been given in the midst of absolute chaos. What a different perspective we have now. What matters - what, well, just doesn't...
I still remember my sweet doctor's voice on the other end of the line when he phoned about my lab results. He was worried, sad, scared, but tried so hard to sound upbeat. He said he was sorry but he'd have to admit me for "the duration" of the pregnancy. I insisted on knowing my exact numbers. He hesitated, but went over them with me knowing that it would stress me less to know what was really going on. I called Brent. He didn't answer. I hung up and phoned again. He answered. (the first time I used this tactic was to tell him about my dad - it's worked for emergencies ever since) I told him I was being admitted. He thought it was for the weekend. I told him it was for the rest of the pregnancy. He responded, "but Heather, you're only 5 months along!!" All I could manage to say was that I would be there for however much longer we had together. I just couldn't tell him that statistically speaking it was more than likely that I would loose the entire pregnancy - it was a fact that I didn't or couldn't face at that point. So surreal - to feel the babies kicking happily as always - knowing that we really were at this point living on borrowed time. Of course I thought about hiding - insisting that staying home and pretending everything was ok had to be better than entering a sort of lion's den. I mean these were the people that said they wanted to help, but at the same time talked of "loss of a fetus" and "evacuating a uterus" as if it was removing a mole or something.
Then in the midst of scattered thoughts, horrible fears, and many many tears, I had to remain calm, serene, focused on keeping those babies to myself as long as my poor body would allow. That was my only job - to sit there and bake.
Fast forward to today. My lovies napping quietly in their swing and Nap Nanny. We split and avocado and a pear from breakfast this morning - so much fun. Mary Louise got upset that she couldn't see me when I was preparing the food and crawled out of the playroom and was in the hallway when I got to her!! We are doing just fine - in our new normal. Have we had hard days? of course! Who doesn't? As I said, it gives us perspective - a frame of reference. I'm still thankful every time I change a dirty diaper - still giggle sometimes when I hear them fuss or cry. I love the smell and feel of the tops of their heads. They love to have their little head fuzzies brushed. They grin and wiggle when Brent walks in the door at the end of his work day. These are such simple things that we waited so so long to do - and not a day goes by that I don't appreciate the opportunity to do or experience them with my Mary Louise and David Oliver.