A letter to Dean...

Happy first birthday, Dean!  I cannot believe it has already been a year since we welcomed you into our lives and saw you for the first time.  I am so blessed to be your mommy, to be able to watch you grow and develop and explore the world.  One year ago today, you were taken along for a whirlwind as your brother decided he had enough time being squished in there with you!  When we learned you were going to be born that night, we were terrified.  I knew God was in control, but it was too early.  You were too small.  But you also came out screaming, defying the odds even then.  You were born 1 minute later and 1 gram lighter, but you never let that stop you from charging forward, full speed ahead.  And you did, from that moment on.

I was able to hold you first, just 24 hours after you were born.  I was in awe at your perfect little nose, those big lips, the feel of your heart beating against mine.  It is a moment I will never forget for the rest of my life.  Those first weeks were full of stress and anxiety, wondering how you would be doing.  We called nightly to check on you, to make sure you were still doing well.  You surprised us all when you decided, at only 3 weeks old, that you had enough of your bubble CPAP and you ripped it right out of your nose.  Man, you hated that thing!  You did well the first time, and I was able to hold you without all the tubes and really see your face for the first time.  But, you weren't quite ready, and it took another few weeks before you could rid yourself of that terrible thing!  You had so many firsts - first hold, first to breath without help, first to take a full bottle - trying to prove that being the younger brother wasn't going to hold you back!

We brought you home 77 days later.  You were our first child to come into our home, such a bittersweet moment as we longed for Reagan and Warren to be able to join you.  But you were the easiest baby we could imagine, so content to be held, or in a swing, or in a bouncer.  You were just happy, such a blessing.  I loved all those early days, when I could just hold and cuddle you without hearing other people's babies crying, fighting for the comfortable chair, listening to endless beeping from down the hall.  It was such a special bond, those rare moments of Mommy and Dean time.

I love so many things about you.  I love how you are always on the go, crawling over everything, climbing stairs, cruising around.  So much energy!  But, you always have time for me.  And you'll sometimes stop mid-crawl, turn around, and crawl right into my lap.  I love that you said "mama" first.  I love how your face lights up in a huge, open-mouth grin when you laugh.  I love how you fall asleep in my arms as I rock you.  I love how you "pat" my face, even with your slobbery hand.  I love how you smile at me when I come to rescue you from your crib.  I love how you splash in the pool, loving ever second of the water.  I love how you zoom your cars across the floor and how excited you were when you finally figured that out.  But most of all, I love that God has allowed me to be your mommy.

Happy first birthday, Dean!  I love you!

Mommy

A letter to Warren...

Happy first birthday, Warren!  I am so blessed to have you in my life, to watch you grow and develop over this first year.  One year ago today, you were kicking me (hard), frantically trying to get out into the world.  It was a rough time for me, stressful and challenging, but every kick, every time I got to hear your heart beat, I knew it was worth every sacrifice.  You were our firstborn son, the older brother by exactly 1 minute.  I imagine you will be rubbing that in for the rest of your life... When we learned you were going to be born that night, we were terrified.  You were too small!  But you proved us all wrong, came out screaming with one arm raised overhead, shouting in triumph "I DID IT!!"  And, you were exactly 1 gram bigger.  Proved those doctors wrong one more time.

You caused us lots of anxiety in those first weeks as we watched you struggle to learn to breath, fought off panic when your monitors beeped at us, watched your weight plummet down below 2 pounds as you refused to digest anything.  You endured blood transfusion, late night x-rays, needle pricks and blood draws daily, and a constant adjusting of your oxygen settings just to keep you going.  And yet, God carried you through.  Daddy and I were able to spend a little extra time with you, got to watch you fight and accomplish more in those first weeks than most experience in a lifetime.  And you were a fighter!  We learned early that Warren doesn't do things unless Warren is ready.  You study, contemplate, and then...done!  No trial and error, just going for it.  I love that about you.  Our NICU time was a great place to focus on just our children, to hold you, read to you, love on you without the other daily tasks weighing down on us.  So many fond memories.

We brought you home 86 days later, so excited to have both of you home and together at last.  So many sleepless nights were spent holding you, bouncing you, walking with you, swaying with you, rocking you, trying to do anything to calm the screaming and colic pain you were experiencing.  But then, you would look up at me, and smile.  That adorable Warren grin with your dimpled cheek.  And my heart would melt.  And you continued to grow and surpass all expectations, proving that God is bigger than any doctor, diagnosis, or statistic.

I love so many things about you, sweet boy.  I love how you stop crying the second I pick you up, lay your head on my shoulder, sigh, and just relax again.  I love how your face lights up each morning when I walk in to get you, crawl over to the edge, pull up, and reach your arms up to say "pick me up, mom."  I love that you are just a little hesitant...you take an extra second just to make sure it is safe before continuing your cruising, changing directions, or pulling up.  I love that you share your paci with me during story time, truly a sacrifice for you!  I love how you laugh when I tickle you.  I love how your face lights up when Daddy comes home, when he throws you high in the air.  I love how you splish splash in the bathtub, kicking so hard.  And most of all, I love that God has allowed me to be your mommy.

I love you so much, Warren!  Happy first birthday!!

Mommy

Father's Day

Happy Father's Day to my wonderful husband!  What a year we've had together!  Was it really only a year ago we were sitting in the hospital (or he was sitting, I was lying...) trying to control these contractions with every single medication known.  Praying for our unborn children, that they would survive this whole ordeal.  Last year, we spent Father's Day in room 875, left for a very brief wheelchair ride into the courtyard right outside my window, watched some golf.  I didn't want Andrew's first Father's day to be lacking the obligate footprint art, so I had a dear friend bring me Reagan's footprints which we turned into a flower.  But, under it all, there was still sorrow and terror.  Our little girl wasn't here to sit in his lap and giggle as he tickled her, to give him a hug.  Our boys were beating the odds, but still fighting for their lives.  I often wonder how much the fathers who have been through infertility and heartache feel on Father's Day.  Does it sting like it did for me?  Is there this sense of emptiness, of longing, of pain?  It doesn't appear to be, but then, men don't talk about emotion like we do.  I think, under it all, the emotions are there.  Just maybe not bursting forth in fits of outrage and despair (not that I would ever do that...)

This year, there was more joy.  There is still an underlying pain, but we were able to celebrate with our children for the first time.  We celebrated yesterday and had a wonderful morning, complete with breakfast in bed and homemade gifts.  I'm not sure who enjoyed them more, Andrew who received them, or me as I got to make them.  Thank goodness for pinterest!  And each year it will only get more fun as Warren and Dean are able to participate more and more.

My husband is an amazing man.  I don't tell him nearly often enough, but he is a rock for our family.  He works hard so I can stay home with our boys, comes home to a frumpy wife covered in drool/spit up/baby food who hasn't showered all day (or maybe even yesterday), and still loves me.  He takes my frantic phone calls during the day as he's between meetings to calm me down when the boys won't eat, sleep, or stop screaming.  He continues to attend and serve at church, though we know few people still there and though his family isn't with him.  And each day, when he comes home, he makes my boys the happiest little boys in the whole world, as their faces light up with huge smiles and they head straight for him.  I couldn't ask for anything better.  No, our journey hasn't been easy.  And staying home isn't what I thought it would be (though nothing ever is).  But we are blessed beyond words as a family that Andrew is my husband and a father to Reagan, Warren, and Dean.

Happy Father's Day!  We love you so much!

Speech Therapy

Every other week our early interventionist comes to the house and give me a wealth of things I can use to work with Warren and Dean to get them closer to meeting all their goals.  After each visit, I buy the new toy, or make the new sensory bag, play the new game, etc.  I absolutely love it because I am always giving them something new and different to try. (without having to find idea on Pinterest!)  I am intimately familiar with how they should be progressing with gross motor from my PT background.  And that is primarily what I have focused on, especially in the beginning.  At their 9 month evaluation, Dean was right on track with his motor skills without even adjusting for him being a preemie!  BUT, I have neglected some of the other areas.  I just didn't know...didn't know milestones to know how delayed they were getting.  And so, they are currently both 7 months delayed in fine motor.  Oops.  And Warren is 5 months delayed in speech.  Oops again.  (These numbers are without adjusting for their micro preemie status) There is so much responsibility on preemie parents to get their kids to catch up, get them with the right therapist, provide this amazing learning environment.  And here, I thought I was doing it all, but no.  Epic failure.  I saw those numbers, those months of delay, and tried not to feel too disappointed.  Never disappointed in my children, but in myself and my job as a mother.  So, I discussed with Bright Start, and we started speech last week.  Of course, Dean would decide to say his first word earlier that day.  "mama"  Such a proud moment...more on that in another post...

Our first visit was great.  It's weird to be on this end of therapy, after asking so many of the same questions myself during my pediatric rotation (wow, was that really 5 years ago already???).  Getting their long medical history, my pregnancy history, etc.  And then came all the questions.  Does h babble? No.  Does he string vowels together? No.  Does he make noise other than crying to get attention? No.  On and on.  No, no, no. Poor Warren.  I had no clue he was supposed to be doing these things.  Am I just slow?  How do working mothers handle both?  Regardless, the evaluation revealed that Dean (with his newly found babbling, ptyerdactyl screeching, and loud laugh) does not qualify.  But Warren will.  He's always, as the doctors said in the NICU, been a little more immature with his development.  But this is the first time there has been a big enough difference that he will have a service that Dean will not.  Now, those will be some interesting treatment sessions...what to do with an 11-month-old who is into everything and has separation anxiety??  Should be entertaining, to say the least!

Return to Zero

As a college student, I watched a handful of Lifetime movies.  Guilty pleasure.  I'm embarrassed to admit that as so many of them were SO bad...bad acting, ridiculous story-line, and always a cheating/scumbag man.  Ahh, back when life was carefree and I had time to waste :)  That being said, I was unsure how the Lifetime movie Return to Zero would be.  It actually had some well known actors, but you just never know.  Regardless, I made Andrew sit down with me last weekend and watch it in its entirety.  And we sobbed our way through it.

Return to Zero portrays stillbirth.  A topic I've never really seen in TV or on movies, because it just isn't discussed.  As I watched Minnie Driver deliver a baby that would never utter a sound, it brought everything flooding back.  So many details were spot on - from the panic with the dopplar, denial with the ultrasound, the grey leaf they hang on your door at the hospital, the emptiness that follows.  Even the ridiculous comments that were said to make you feel better, but in actuality make you want to scream.  It touched on so many of the taboo things one never wants to know until going into it.  My heart just broke all over again.  I was so very thankful Andrew was there for me to cling to as we watched on.

I learned 2 things from this movie.  First, I have pushed so many of my emotions from Reagan aside because of the boys - I had to "be strong for them" as I was told by so many while they were fighting for their lives, inside and outside the womb.  I spend the whole time I wasn't pregnant grieving so completely and trying to find a way to just take a step forward.  When I started having pregnancy complications, the added "stress" of the grief only made things worse.  I had no chose but to put it aside.  But that, combined with a complicated, high risk pregnancy, has made it so difficult to truly bond with my boys.  I'm not sure how much of that was the pregnancy, the fact I couldn't see them for hours after they were born, couldn't hold them for days, and just stared at their tiny bodies through the isolet.  I kept telling myself I wasn't having breakdowns and crying while in the NICU because I was prepared for their NICU journey, but I think some of it was that I just couldn't handle anymore pain or crying, so I pushed my fear for the boys down deep too.  And yet, God chose to bless us with them anyway and bring them safely home.

Second, I learned what a profound difference hope in the Lord makes.  And that is where our story begins to differ.  The husband immediately resorted to drinking and had an affair (wouldn't be a true Lifetime movie without it)  Minnie Driver (already forgot her character name) was a shell of the woman she once was after her loss.  Now, granted, I was too for a bit.  But I live each day knowing with confidence that this is not the end of my story.  I know I will see our sweet Reagan again, hold her in my arms, dance with her on streets of gold.  There is incredible pain in knowing that I will not do those things here with her, but an eternal perspective helps so very much.  If that was the end of things, I had a daughter and she died and was gone, how could I go on?  How could anyone?

For anyone who wants to understand a little better the emotional side, how it feels to be handed a child who is not breathing, to take your first family picture and not know what kind of expression should be on your face, to be confronted immediately by others healthy pregnancies and healthy babies, and to not really be able to talk about it - I recommend the movie.  It was definitely written by someone who had been through stillbirth.  I'm not sure when, or even if, it will air again.  But I can post something about it if I see that.  I think it's out on DVD too, though I can't imagine Red Box would carry that...

Mother's Day

As Mother's Day is approaching, I am facing so many mixed emotions.  I wanted to try to sort through them all now before the actual weekend so I can try to enjoy some special time with my boys.  But I know there will still be this ache, this emptiness, in my heart where Reagan should be.  I wonder if I will ever encounter a holiday without that.

Mother's Day has been particularly painful for me over these past 4 years, and I expect the same to be true this year.  I don't think living children will take away the years of hurt and frustration over not being able to conceive, over waiting out our time with babies in the freezer, of loss and hardships.  The last 3 years I've completely avoided church on this day as it was just entirely too much for me to handle.  I think I went 4 years ago but had a breakdown once I got home, and I knew well enough to not go back.  The sermon is always about mothers and appreciating our moms.  There are flowers handed out to all the mothers, or special thing where all the moms get to stand up, some form of recognition.  But what about those who so desperately want to be a mother and can't get pregnant?  Or what about those who have children in heaven but not on Earth?  That's been me, for 4 long years.  And now, as I approach the 5th Mother's Day, I finally have children with me.  Someone said I'll be celebrating my "first official Mother's Day."  Ouch.  So much pain.  But we are baptizing Warren and Dean on Sunday, so I will enter church with a smile on my face.  I so wish that the baptism date was a separate event, but that is not the case.  So I am trying to sort through how I feel and try to be my emotional wreck before Sunday so that this year it can be all about God, Warren, and Dean as they are baptized.

Holidays seem to be particularly lonely.  Days when I should be so happy and celebrating something, that's when I miss Reagan the most.  Our family isn't complete here and never will be.  As we all gather for brunch on Sunday, she won't be there in an adorable, frilly purple dress, laughing and showing off.  It just makes my heart ache, physically ache, when I take the time to stop and think about it.  And on a day when her hand print art should be hanging right there next to the boys, I feel it even more.  I wonder if she knows this, if she thinks of me on Mother's day.  Maybe she is creating a stockpile of handmade art for me when I get to join her.  Wouldn't that be beautiful??

But this year, I do have something to celebrate.  I have my miracle twins.  Exactly one year ago, at 19 weeks, I began having contractions and was admitted for the first time to Labor & Delivery.  A few days later, I was admitted again and stayed until they were born.  And now, they are home with me.  Completely healthy, no longer on monitors, no treatments needed.  I am also able to reflect on how gracious God is and how He carried them through such a battle, from the very beginning.  No doctor thought they would make it.  I remember celebrating with the nurses when we reached 23 weeks - viability.  And again when we reached 24 - hope.  We didn't make it to that 28 week mark for next celebration, but God is bigger than all that.  And, at 26 weeks 6 days, they were born.  I looked back at their medical records and Warren's APGAR scores were 7 and 9.  For anyone who knows medicine or preemies, you know that is just amazing.  He came out screaming, with one arm overhead, crying "I did it!!" And from that point on, they have fought with persistence which can only come from above.  They learned to breath, to keep their heart rates up, to keep their temperatures regulated, all these little things most moms take for granted.  And on Mother's Day, I am extra grateful for them and how far they have come.

As I have been raising them and seeing firsthand the struggles of raising a child, I am also all the more thankful for my own mother.  I never realized the sacrifices you make for your children.  I always took for granted that my mom stayed home with us, cleaned up after us, cooked for us.  I never realized how exhausting that can be.  From 6AM until 9PM, I rarely stop.  It's feed them, play with them, try to get them to sleep, repeat.  And then, if they do sleep, the floors need to be vacuumed, baby food needs to be made, dinner prepped, laundry folded, etc.  It never ends.  And I have great support from Andrew, so can't imagine what it would be like without him and his willingness to help...whole new appreciation for single moms.

We're celebrating our Mother's Day on Saturday with a trip to the mountains, the last place I took Reagan before complications started.  I always think of that trip when I think of her, and I can't wait to show the boys.  I hope to put of pictures of that event soon!

Easter

Easter is one of those holidays I didn't think about too much until right before it arrived.  It was never heavily celebrated in our household.  Good Friday service, Easter Sunday service, lunch...and I just went on with my life.  I know that sounds terrible.  I knew the significance of Easter, knew the sacrifice Jesus made for me, knew that was the one and only reason I would go to heaven...but Monday was just another day.  Really, the Saturday in between was just another day as well.

Having children in heaven makes Easter that much more real to me.  I understand better the sacrifice God made by sending His Son to die, knowing the pain He would endure, and allowing it to happen to save a bunch of sinners who deserve nothing.  I would never intentionally allow my children to hurt.  Sleep training last night, listening to Warren's screams, I sat at the kitchen table and just cried.  And I knew he wasn't even in physical pain.  So, the sacrifice for God to send Jesus to rescue me takes on a whole new meaning.  In the past 2 years I have said goodbye to two children and watched two more fight for their lives.  Both processes are incredibly painful.  And yet, God chose to do it.  For me.  Wow.

Easter signifies Christ's triumph over death.  "Death has been swallowed up in victory."  Because of that, because of Christ's selfless sacrifice, I can rest assured that I will be reunited with Reagan.  My sweet daughter is laughing and playing and enjoying her Creator because of Easter.  Praise the Lord!  And, again I reflect on what a celebration Easter must be in Heaven.  Oh, how I can't wait to know!

I still love looking at Reagan's painting, seeing how my mom created her to be so beautiful and happy, capturing everything I ever imagined for her in a single moment.  Just beautiful.  One of my fellow Hope Mommies shared this with me, and I love it even more as I think about Easter.  "They say that time in heaven is compared to a blink of an eye for us on this earth, sometimes, it helps me to think of my daughter running on ahead of me through a beautiful field of wildflowers and butterflies. I imagine her so utterly happy and completely caught up in what she is doing, that by the time she turns around to see if I'm behind her...I will be"