My sweet boys,
It has been over a year since I sat down to write to you, to tell you our story, and to capture all the moments that have come to pass since you arrived in this world. The million little moments that all have added up to the most amazing and profound love I have ever known, a thousand tears of happiness, of anguish, of complete an utter amazement, and of hope. You have brought your father and I such joy that I fear you will never truly know how much you are loved. So totally and so completely.
Our journey began long before you left my womb, but what I know now--what I am more certain of than anything--is that it was always you who were to be mine. There were always supposed to be two little boys born unto me, two little boys conceived in love with someone else's help, two little boys who will forever be known as my sons. We began our journey long ago, and as I look back on your short time on earth, I know that you were always trying to find me.
It was May 3, 2012 when you entered this world. At 8:10 and 8:11 a.m., respectively. In the two days before, I started to develop preeclampsia,was swelling to epic proportions and developing high blood pressure. It was a year ago today, that I went for a check up and the first alarm was raised. I was sent home to be on complete bed rest, to monitor my blood pressure religiously the next day, and to return to the doctor on May 2 for a follow up. Such anticipation and excitement! How could my blood pressure go down when every thought I had turned to knowing that I was very likely only a few hours away from seeing your faces! Indeed, it didn't go down and the swelling only got worse. I had a face I didn't recognize, and knees that felt like they'd split open every time I sat down. It was very uncomfortable and moving around, walking, felt so hard. I returned on May 2 to the doctor and my blood pressure was about the same as it had been - and proteins in my urine confirmed that I was in the early stage of preeclampsia. Preeclampsia is toxic to the mother and the only cure is delivery--so the doctor (by telephone) told the nurse to send me to the hospital! I would be admitted, assessed, and possibly would deliver the following day!
I called your father and he met me at home. I finally packed a bag (I'd been slowly gathering items over the past couple days), got us all ready to go and when dad came home, had him take some "final" pregnant photos of me. I looked like ahouse, very excited mom-to-be, albeit so swollen it was very likely that if anyone stuck a pin in me, I'd pop. Around 1:00 p.m. or so, we were on our way to Reston! We made a couple videos on our phones and we were so excited! When we got there, I got checked into this big room and then we laughed cause we wondered what we were supposed to do now, especially with all our anticipation filling that big room! When my doctor came to see me, he said he felt it was best to deliver me (you)! And that I'd be first up in the morning for a c-section. So dad stayed with me for a good while, and I sent him home early evening so he could take care of Abby and Piper (our dogs). We agreed that he'd stay home that night and be back by 7:00 a.m. in plenty of time for getting ready to meet you! That night it was hard to sleep in the hospital. I got checked and monitored all night, and I couldn't get comfortable. I had some really nice nurses and I just remember talking to you in my belly and calling each of you by your names. I tried holding onto that night as much and as long as I could, because I had come to know each of you in my womb, and I loved being pregnant and having you with me all the time. I was so excited to meet you, and I couldn't hardly imagine what it would be like to see your faces.
At 6:00 a.m., I could no longer stay still. I arose, and laboriously got myself to the bathroom (an IV is nothing fun to tote around). Brushed my teeth, washed my face, and said "today is the day!" I put my make up on (um, of course!) and anxiously waited for your dad to arrive. Nurses started to come in just before 7:00 and dad was right on time. It seems everything happened so fast from that point. We just went into motion, and by about 7:30, I was headed for the OR and for the first time, I cried because I was so overcome with emotion. Here it was. Here was this momentI'd we'd been waiting for...this was it, and it was more than I could have imagined. I knew I had to be strong - and facing a surgery (my second) - it was okay, but it also felt like I was floating outside of my body and all these people were there just moving me from point A to B to C and that I was a bystander looking in on them while they moved me to where I needed to be. The epidural, that hurt. And then I was numb. The anesthesia, it made me nauseous, but they got it under control. Dad came in, I was so glad to see him. It was time. Tugging, talking, nauseous, look at dad, look at dad, look at dad. You would be here in a minute. Tugging, talking, nauseous, okay, look at dad, look at dad....Q was born! Waiting, waiting, waiting, crrrrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!! Spinning, tears, tugging, look at dad, might throw up, look at dad, I hear Q cry a little, waiting where is the next, tugging, C was born! Waiting, waiting, waiting...why isn't he crying, "why isn't he crying?" I say. Tears. What's wrong? Waiting...waiting...what's wrong? He's so pale? Cryyyyyyyyyyyyy. Breathe. Oh my God. My sons are here.
My C, you were very pale. I was worried about you from the moment I saw you - because I could see you as the nurses attended to you. But you were okay, beautiful and okay. I could hear them having a hard time getting Q's oxygen level to a good place, I could hear the concern, and all I know is that I only briefly had the two of you by my face so that I could say hello and see your curly head of hair, have our first family picture taken, Q, before they took you from us to the NICU. C, they put you to my breast, and moments after you were born, you instinctively found your place trying to nurse.
Recovery was something that I won't go into here. It is a blurry mess of hours that are marked by pain that wasn't well controlled until later in the day as well as a haze of Dilaudid. I was able to hold C within hours, and I was wheeled in bed to touch your hand, Q, when I was moved to my room. All I knew was that you looked so small and I just wanted to be with you. It pained me and broke my heart when they took me to my room and when we were separated.
C, you stayed with us almost the entire time we were in the hospital. Such a beautiful, perfect little face you had. You loved snuggling with me and sleeping on my chest. Dad stayed with us each night, and we made sense - what little we had - about what to do in those first hours and days. It wasn't until two days after you arrived that I was able to hold Q in my arms for the first time and feed him. I cried and sant "Il Etait Un Petit Navire," because that was what I'd sing to you while you were in my belly. You looked at me, Q, like you had known me for a thousand lifetimes.
Your great grandmother and grandmother came to visit you, as well as your great aunt & uncle, cousin, and a couple of my friends while you were in the hospital. We stayed 5 days, hoping to get Q home with us (it was your lungs, Q, under developed, but not too badly). We had to leave on a Monday, dad, C, and I. And I couldn't hardly stand it to be leaving that place without Q with us. All I know is that we were a family, the four of us, and we had to leave one behind. For as long as I live, I will never do that again. We were not whole, and it shattered my heart to not have you with us.
We did love having C home with us. It was like a trial run, getting to be with one baby and enjoying those 36 hours with you. You were easy and you felt so small. I sat in awe of you and bewildered and in love with your perfect little nose. We went to see Q the next day, and I think your uncle & aunt babysat you for the first time so that we could see Q, have lunch, and do some shopping at Target for newborn clothes (we didn't have any! because we thought you'd both come out much bigger). Q was looking better and there was hope he'd come home that day - but alas, it'd be the next, I believe it was May 8. Your great grandmother, dad's grandmi, and one of the most beautiful souls I have ever known, passed away that morning. Q, you coming home with us, was what I like to think of as her biggest gift to us. We took C, and the four of us left the hospital properly--together, as a family, as le quatre, as one. We listened to the playlist of music your dad had assembled and went home together for the first time. Your parents. Our sons. A most beautiful day.
Of course, when we got here, we didn't have a CLUE as to what to do next. So, I went up to our bedroom, got everything possible that we may need for the night - and never left. We just holed up in the room, took some pictures of you, and survived. And that is what we did every night until we learned how little we really knew, and every day and night until we figured it out.
My sons, your birthday is just days away. And as I sit and I reflect on all the moments of the last year it is so hard to remember you as the tiny lumps you were in those first days. You were only that little for what seems like moments. By four months you were almost sitting up, by five, you had mastered it. By six you each had two teeth (bottom), by seven, starting to make slug movements that were the early cursor of crawling. By eight, you couldn't be stopped (C) and you stood all the time (Q), by ten you had two more teeth on top (C) and you would walk around the furniture and take a few steps here and there (Q, C), by eleven months you both are walking (at least you are walking better than zombie-crabs). You both have developed your own (and VERY different) personalities, and you both make our hearts melt each and every day. We are still amazed by you, and when you smile, you break our hearts. Your dad looks at me more days than not and says "I'm so glad we had twins." And there isn't a day that goes by that one of us doesn't say "oh my God, they're so cute." Because. You. Are.
Q, you melt our hearts. You have just started developing little curls in your hair. It's always been longer, but now you have these sweet little rings starting to form. You have the biggest blue eyes and eye lashes and a smile that will melt even the hardest of hearts. You had to wear a "helmet" for 3 months (7.5-10 months) and have a bit of tortocollis, that you went to PT for for a few months. You are loving and kind, independent and introverted, you love your dad and cling to him. You eat everything I give you (thank you, love your chef-wannabe mother). You say "all done!" at meals, and sometimes "hi / bye," and kind of say "dada." You blow kisses to your daycare teacher. You will sit and snuggle when you have a bottle or are just by yourself. You have the cutest feet on the planet, Fred Flinstone. We call you Twinnie. You only sleep for 45-minutes at a time, like you don't want to miss out on anything. You have the most awesome pouty lip I have ever seen - and you can stick it out just meticulously perfect to maximize the effect. You don't really care for car rides, I think they make you sick if you're in your seat too long. You are loved by pretty much everyone you have ever met, and your personality is extremely laid back, easy going, and happy.
C, you are my strong-willed, stubborn, and fiercely loving little mini-me. Child, you love your momma. You want what you want...and you know what you don't want. Your hair is almost the same length as it was the day you were born. You have beautiful blue eyes and the left one has been plagued by a blocked tear duct that will require surgery in a few weeks, and you're a pro at ear infections ever since January. You are ornery and sweet and you have the cutest crinkle face I've ever seen. You're starting to know how to be shy, to make faces, and to enjoy being the center of attention...you thrive on it. You love banana pancakes, grilled cheese, yogurt drops, and used to love avocado. You will snuggle when you are sick, or if you missed me (you actually give great hugs). I call you Bugs. You love to take long naps and will sleep 4-hours a day if you can. You are smaller than Q, and you have always had great balance and posture. You love Baby Einstein's animal DVD and totally have a dance rhythm when "Old Mac Donald" plays. You will say "cat" and "done," and used to say "uh oh," and kind of say "dada." You also love car rides and are happy as can be if you have a snack cup, no socks, and the DVD player on. You are loved by pretty much everyone you have ever met, and your personality is serious, flirty, and a bit type A.
Happy birthday, bunnies!
You boys, my dudes, my Goonies. You are the coolest thing that has ever happened to me. And although I haven't chronicled it all here, because in retrospect, I should have - and in retrospect, I could have kept going with a million stories about your first year adventures (hey, mom! save it for the baby books you still haven't written in!), I wanted to take a few minutes on the anniversary of your birth to tell you a tiny bit about who you are today and a little about your arrival into this world.
It has been such a wild ride! These last 362 days have flown by, and there is only one thing that I know through all of it. I LOVE BEING YOUR MOTHER.
Truly, it is an honor. It has been, because you are, the greatest gift and the greatest blessing I have ever known. Every day, I look at you and relish in the fact that you are both wonderful and unique souls. Both of you bring something unique to our family, and your dad and I look at you with a quiet understand of the greatness and infinite possibility that lies within each of you.
All I know, is that you make me certain that I was put on this earth to be your mom. That it was our family you were to be born into, that your dad and I were supposed to meet, and that all those years ago those doctors were supposed to overlook his likely obvious medical condition. All I know since the moment I first laid eyes on you, is that you were always supposed to bemine OURS. And that there will never be enough moments or days, months, years, or decades that I share with you. Even when the years ahead make you embarassed, or in your teens maybe ashamed, or even questioning...may you never doubt that my
Be certain, and know, that when life gets hard, know that our love will always be here for you. Free of judgement, free of boundaries, full of a deep and unabashed love.
Never doubt this: we will love you forever, and we will be proud of you always, in all ways.
It has been over a year since I sat down to write to you, to tell you our story, and to capture all the moments that have come to pass since you arrived in this world. The million little moments that all have added up to the most amazing and profound love I have ever known, a thousand tears of happiness, of anguish, of complete an utter amazement, and of hope. You have brought your father and I such joy that I fear you will never truly know how much you are loved. So totally and so completely.
Our journey began long before you left my womb, but what I know now--what I am more certain of than anything--is that it was always you who were to be mine. There were always supposed to be two little boys born unto me, two little boys conceived in love with someone else's help, two little boys who will forever be known as my sons. We began our journey long ago, and as I look back on your short time on earth, I know that you were always trying to find me.
It was May 3, 2012 when you entered this world. At 8:10 and 8:11 a.m., respectively. In the two days before, I started to develop preeclampsia,was swelling to epic proportions and developing high blood pressure. It was a year ago today, that I went for a check up and the first alarm was raised. I was sent home to be on complete bed rest, to monitor my blood pressure religiously the next day, and to return to the doctor on May 2 for a follow up. Such anticipation and excitement! How could my blood pressure go down when every thought I had turned to knowing that I was very likely only a few hours away from seeing your faces! Indeed, it didn't go down and the swelling only got worse. I had a face I didn't recognize, and knees that felt like they'd split open every time I sat down. It was very uncomfortable and moving around, walking, felt so hard. I returned on May 2 to the doctor and my blood pressure was about the same as it had been - and proteins in my urine confirmed that I was in the early stage of preeclampsia. Preeclampsia is toxic to the mother and the only cure is delivery--so the doctor (by telephone) told the nurse to send me to the hospital! I would be admitted, assessed, and possibly would deliver the following day!
I called your father and he met me at home. I finally packed a bag (I'd been slowly gathering items over the past couple days), got us all ready to go and when dad came home, had him take some "final" pregnant photos of me. I looked like a
At 6:00 a.m., I could no longer stay still. I arose, and laboriously got myself to the bathroom (an IV is nothing fun to tote around). Brushed my teeth, washed my face, and said "today is the day!" I put my make up on (um, of course!) and anxiously waited for your dad to arrive. Nurses started to come in just before 7:00 and dad was right on time. It seems everything happened so fast from that point. We just went into motion, and by about 7:30, I was headed for the OR and for the first time, I cried because I was so overcome with emotion. Here it was. Here was this moment
My C, you were very pale. I was worried about you from the moment I saw you - because I could see you as the nurses attended to you. But you were okay, beautiful and okay. I could hear them having a hard time getting Q's oxygen level to a good place, I could hear the concern, and all I know is that I only briefly had the two of you by my face so that I could say hello and see your curly head of hair, have our first family picture taken, Q, before they took you from us to the NICU. C, they put you to my breast, and moments after you were born, you instinctively found your place trying to nurse.
Recovery was something that I won't go into here. It is a blurry mess of hours that are marked by pain that wasn't well controlled until later in the day as well as a haze of Dilaudid. I was able to hold C within hours, and I was wheeled in bed to touch your hand, Q, when I was moved to my room. All I knew was that you looked so small and I just wanted to be with you. It pained me and broke my heart when they took me to my room and when we were separated.
C, you stayed with us almost the entire time we were in the hospital. Such a beautiful, perfect little face you had. You loved snuggling with me and sleeping on my chest. Dad stayed with us each night, and we made sense - what little we had - about what to do in those first hours and days. It wasn't until two days after you arrived that I was able to hold Q in my arms for the first time and feed him. I cried and sant "Il Etait Un Petit Navire," because that was what I'd sing to you while you were in my belly. You looked at me, Q, like you had known me for a thousand lifetimes.
Your great grandmother and grandmother came to visit you, as well as your great aunt & uncle, cousin, and a couple of my friends while you were in the hospital. We stayed 5 days, hoping to get Q home with us (it was your lungs, Q, under developed, but not too badly). We had to leave on a Monday, dad, C, and I. And I couldn't hardly stand it to be leaving that place without Q with us. All I know is that we were a family, the four of us, and we had to leave one behind. For as long as I live, I will never do that again. We were not whole, and it shattered my heart to not have you with us.
We did love having C home with us. It was like a trial run, getting to be with one baby and enjoying those 36 hours with you. You were easy and you felt so small. I sat in awe of you and bewildered and in love with your perfect little nose. We went to see Q the next day, and I think your uncle & aunt babysat you for the first time so that we could see Q, have lunch, and do some shopping at Target for newborn clothes (we didn't have any! because we thought you'd both come out much bigger). Q was looking better and there was hope he'd come home that day - but alas, it'd be the next, I believe it was May 8. Your great grandmother, dad's grandmi, and one of the most beautiful souls I have ever known, passed away that morning. Q, you coming home with us, was what I like to think of as her biggest gift to us. We took C, and the four of us left the hospital properly--together, as a family, as le quatre, as one. We listened to the playlist of music your dad had assembled and went home together for the first time. Your parents. Our sons. A most beautiful day.
Of course, when we got here, we didn't have a CLUE as to what to do next. So, I went up to our bedroom, got everything possible that we may need for the night - and never left. We just holed up in the room, took some pictures of you, and survived. And that is what we did every night until we learned how little we really knew, and every day and night until we figured it out.
My sons, your birthday is just days away. And as I sit and I reflect on all the moments of the last year it is so hard to remember you as the tiny lumps you were in those first days. You were only that little for what seems like moments. By four months you were almost sitting up, by five, you had mastered it. By six you each had two teeth (bottom), by seven, starting to make slug movements that were the early cursor of crawling. By eight, you couldn't be stopped (C) and you stood all the time (Q), by ten you had two more teeth on top (C) and you would walk around the furniture and take a few steps here and there (Q, C), by eleven months you both are walking (at least you are walking better than zombie-crabs). You both have developed your own (and VERY different) personalities, and you both make our hearts melt each and every day. We are still amazed by you, and when you smile, you break our hearts. Your dad looks at me more days than not and says "I'm so glad we had twins." And there isn't a day that goes by that one of us doesn't say "oh my God, they're so cute." Because. You. Are.
Q, you melt our hearts. You have just started developing little curls in your hair. It's always been longer, but now you have these sweet little rings starting to form. You have the biggest blue eyes and eye lashes and a smile that will melt even the hardest of hearts. You had to wear a "helmet" for 3 months (7.5-10 months) and have a bit of tortocollis, that you went to PT for for a few months. You are loving and kind, independent and introverted, you love your dad and cling to him. You eat everything I give you (thank you, love your chef-wannabe mother). You say "all done!" at meals, and sometimes "hi / bye," and kind of say "dada." You blow kisses to your daycare teacher. You will sit and snuggle when you have a bottle or are just by yourself. You have the cutest feet on the planet, Fred Flinstone. We call you Twinnie. You only sleep for 45-minutes at a time, like you don't want to miss out on anything. You have the most awesome pouty lip I have ever seen - and you can stick it out just meticulously perfect to maximize the effect. You don't really care for car rides, I think they make you sick if you're in your seat too long. You are loved by pretty much everyone you have ever met, and your personality is extremely laid back, easy going, and happy.
C, you are my strong-willed, stubborn, and fiercely loving little mini-me. Child, you love your momma. You want what you want...and you know what you don't want. Your hair is almost the same length as it was the day you were born. You have beautiful blue eyes and the left one has been plagued by a blocked tear duct that will require surgery in a few weeks, and you're a pro at ear infections ever since January. You are ornery and sweet and you have the cutest crinkle face I've ever seen. You're starting to know how to be shy, to make faces, and to enjoy being the center of attention...you thrive on it. You love banana pancakes, grilled cheese, yogurt drops, and used to love avocado. You will snuggle when you are sick, or if you missed me (you actually give great hugs). I call you Bugs. You love to take long naps and will sleep 4-hours a day if you can. You are smaller than Q, and you have always had great balance and posture. You love Baby Einstein's animal DVD and totally have a dance rhythm when "Old Mac Donald" plays. You will say "cat" and "done," and used to say "uh oh," and kind of say "dada." You also love car rides and are happy as can be if you have a snack cup, no socks, and the DVD player on. You are loved by pretty much everyone you have ever met, and your personality is serious, flirty, and a bit type A.
Happy birthday, bunnies!
You boys, my dudes, my Goonies. You are the coolest thing that has ever happened to me. And although I haven't chronicled it all here, because in retrospect, I should have - and in retrospect, I could have kept going with a million stories about your first year adventures (hey, mom! save it for the baby books you still haven't written in!), I wanted to take a few minutes on the anniversary of your birth to tell you a tiny bit about who you are today and a little about your arrival into this world.
It has been such a wild ride! These last 362 days have flown by, and there is only one thing that I know through all of it. I LOVE BEING YOUR MOTHER.
Truly, it is an honor. It has been, because you are, the greatest gift and the greatest blessing I have ever known. Every day, I look at you and relish in the fact that you are both wonderful and unique souls. Both of you bring something unique to our family, and your dad and I look at you with a quiet understand of the greatness and infinite possibility that lies within each of you.
All I know, is that you make me certain that I was put on this earth to be your mom. That it was our family you were to be born into, that your dad and I were supposed to meet, and that all those years ago those doctors were supposed to overlook his likely obvious medical condition. All I know since the moment I first laid eyes on you, is that you were always supposed to be
Be certain, and know, that when life gets hard, know that our love will always be here for you. Free of judgement, free of boundaries, full of a deep and unabashed love.
Never doubt this: we will love you forever, and we will be proud of you always, in all ways.
