Don't forget to say...congratulations

I go back to St. David's a lot. It's the hospital where the twins were born, the place where I have had all of my cancer surgeries and the home of the Breast Cancer Resource Center. I am running there at least once a week while we plan Graphic 4: the Art Bra Fashion Show to benefit the BCRC. But that's not what this post is about.

Each time I swing around the drive to pull into the parking garage, I pass the main entrance to the hospital. And each time, almost any hour of the day, there is inevitably a new mom waiting to leave the place with a newborn infant in tow - eager to position that stupid, ungainly baby carrier in the back seat so she can sit next to it and ooh and ahh while some husband, partner or chauffeur drives them home. There are balloons, there are smiles. And each time I see this, I still cringe. It's been almost 5 years, my twins are healthy and thriving and it seems like eons ago that they were born 3 months early and so very, very ill. Evan called them little grey squirrels at just 2 lbs each. And the hardest day of my life up until now - even harder than cancer, even harder than finding out that Zelda was born blind, and perhaps rivaling the pain I felt when my Dad died - was the day I left that hospital without my newborn twins. I was so pissed off that day. I was so angry at those other happy moms.

My friends and family were wonderful. They brought food, they brought flowers but they were afraid. We were afraid. They tiptoed around the questions about the "non-perfect" children, they mourned our "loss" of an idyllic birth experience...And it was hard. It did suck. Our friends were reverent and concerned and worried about us and the babies. I loved and appreciated all of them for it despite my feelings of guilt about going into premature labor and overwhelming post-partum depression.

But the other day, I ran into a friend. He and his wife just had a baby born with Down's Syndrome. I looked at him and smiled knowingly. I asked him how she was doing, empathized over the lengthy NICU stay but most of all I said "Congratulations! I am so happy for you and your wife and your new daughter."

We are so lucky. I am so lucky to be a mom. Whatever the experience, whatever the birth, please don't ever forget to say those words...they mean more to the parents than you'll ever know...tell them "Congratulations"...

Trying to continue...

It's hard to recap the past 17 months of the lives of my twins but I'll try.

My husband and I were (are) lucky...we did it in one try - the fertility thing that is. I became pregnant, we found out it was with twins, one boy and one girl. I was not a comfortable pregnant woman...being slim I tried to eat like a horse to gain the weight that they needed to grow inside of me. It was also Texas in the summertime so it was hot. I ate, I slept, I swam.
EEV, my husband, practically chained me to the house so as to insure the safety of our precious fetuses. Guarded safely by our 2 loyal dobermans, an ailing Sasha who died 10 days before the birth of the twins and a feisty Coco who could only anticipate the new additions to the household, I longed for the days of attending (non-alcoholic!) cocktail parties and looking glowingly cute in my maternity clothes. But those days never came.

As we checked off the weeks of advancing in the 3rd trimester, one day I went swimming, that night I started to spot and cramp...the next day in to see the OB/GYN and admitted to the hospital.
I gave birth by C-section at 10:26pm and 10:27pm to our babies with 14 people in the room. Creed came out at 2lbs 1 oz and 14 1/2 inches long. Zelda was 2 lbs 1oz and 14 1/4 inches. They were born at 26weeks and 5 days. The reason for their early arrival was described as "non-reassuring fetal status". No one knew at that point that they were ill.