Dear God, I have to teach you how to drive this year.
Someone hold me. I'm frightened
The story. AGAIN. (yes, it is a re-re-re-repost. I'm not much of a composer of stories, I don't write in pretty phrases and flowery language...so just look at the pictures and I think you can follow right along.
THE DUE DATE: June 4. But oh no, my impatient children arrived February 13, 1995.
Born at 24 weeks after 24 hours of labor, which the doctors tried to stop.
My son came first, in the usual way. (in this picture he was actually one month and one day old)
As they were wheeling me to recovery, my daughter's heart rate dropped to zero, and she was removed by emergency C-section fifty-six minutes after her brother was delivered. (and she is one month and one day old here)
I was stapled from head to toe, practically. Or at least that's how I felt.
And I fell in love with morphine.
In recovery I heard my mom & stepmom talking about the children~I told everyone to shut up shut up shut up because I didn't want to hear that they had died.
But they hadn't. Thank you, God.
Barely over a single pound each. Barely 12 inches long.
They struggled for every single breath. They fought to live.
And so they did.
Thank you, God.
For this little miracle....(my girl at about 2 months)
and this little miracle...(my boy at about 3 or 4 months)
The doctors gave them less than a 50% chance of survival.
Fortunately they got my stubborn genes.
My girl here is about a year and a half old, this is one of my favorite pictures of her~she looks so pensive.
And here is my sister with two skinny little babies:
One morning I discovered that my daughter knew how to climb into her brother's crib..
And she always....
...always has loved him best.
(yes, her mouth is blue...she was putting eye shadow on. On her lips. Yep. You should have seen what she did to me earlier that day with lipstick...whilst I was catnapping on the couch.)
When she was about two, this is what "Go get ready for bed" meant:
Already trying to fill mommy's shoes, trailing that damned oxygen hose behind her (that I tripped on a thousand and one times):
Here's my little guy at about 6 or 7 months old, when he finally got to come home from the hospital...
He had the softest, wispiest hair so I let it grow and grow...
How could I not believe in a higher power? In miracles?
I love you, my babies. I'm thankful for every breath that you take, every blink of your eyes, every morning that you wake. I love you with everything inside me.
You make me laugh, you make me cry, you make me want to smack you upside your heads.
If all the world was a beach, I would love you more than all the grains of sand added together. Times ten million.
Happy, happy birthday.
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