I can't help but think of this same day last year. This was the last Sunday that I was strapped to a bed before the babies were born. I had spent 76 days in the hospital at this point.
76 days without putting Lulo to bed at night.
76 days without being at home.
76 days without my bed.
76 days without making a meal.
76 days without drying off with my own towels.
76 days without cable TV.
76 days without doing my hair or putting on makeup.
76 days without privacy or comfort.
It was a strange time. It was filled with so much worry. I remember sitting in the hospital bed thinking about my twins who had TTTS. Baby A on a monitor which usually was located so far down in my pants that it was uncomfortable. Baby B on another monitor. They got easier and easier to find as the days passed, but, inevitably every day, some poor nurse had her hand down my pants searching for a heart beat. Was it the same heart beat, my heart beat, the other baby's heart beat? We would wait. More waiting. We usually would find the heart beat. Sometimes, everyone would get a little nervous. A doctor was called...they rushed in with an ultrasound machine. Baby A - Check. Baby B - Check. Sigh of relief. What a strange time.
This Sunday was bittersweet. Those 76 days were not easy but you get into a routine. I would order something awful for breakfast, eat it, work a little bit, take a fast shower, nurse would come in and we'd find the babies, I'd work again, order a terrible lunch, work a little bit more, eat a terrible lunch, work a little bit more, sneak in a little caffeine (1 baby can of coke a day), work a little bit more, order dinner, watch jeopardy while eating dinner, mess around on the internet, convince the nurse to let me have a little monitor break, stretch, walk around, pee, brush teeth, bed, episode of Seinfeld, sleep poorly.
That kind of day repeated itself over and over and over. Of course, it was peppered by the visits of my Mom and Lulo, my Lulo, the never ending search for heartbeats, some occasional visits by the attendings, an occasional visit by Fetal god (Dr. P), a call or visit here and there from J. But, that was my day in a nutshell.
I remember being horribly scared on this Sunday that I had spent all this time nurturing these children in a hospital bed and that when Tuesday would come along and I'd have my c-section - it would all go wrong. I had a fear that one of them, both of them, or all three of us would somehow not make it through the c-section. I had fears that Jujo or Jojo wouldn't be healthy. I had fears that the babies would have extended stays at the NICU. I had fears they would have no stay in the NICU and then I would have to come home and be completely unprepared.
But, alas, they are fine. And, honestly, they were worth every minute in that bed.
This Sunday was crazy. No routine at all. I have three healthy boys full of energy. A photographer came over and took pictures because they are almost one year old! My goodness. Picture days are never easy. The poor photographer, God bless her. Jujo was cranky, which made Jojo cranky. Lulo was uncooperative. All three have beuatiful smiles, none of the smiles were participating today. It was cold outside. The lack of cooperation of all three made me cranky. I took it out on J. J decided that since he was already being terribly unhelpful and not at all intuitive- he would continue to do so. Photographer left - probably with not a very good impression of me. I was exhausted. Fed Lulo lunch. Heard babies wailing for attention while J played on his iTouch. Out of pure rage and frustration, threw J's iTouch in the garbage. Put Lulo down for a nap. Fed twins. Twins. 2 beautiful healthy twins. Who cares about the rest?
I am so lucky, I am so blessed. We have come so far this year. It went so quickly. I am happy it went quickly because if it went slower, I wouldn't have survived. I think back to me, in that bed, last year. Worried. Terrified for my boys, my family. But, now, we are here. What a year. Wow. They turned my life upside down and I love it.