Five Weeks That Felt Like Forever....

This time last year, I was laying in my hospital bed in Carmichael, CA, writhing around in the worst pain of my life, terrified at the certainty that NOW was the time my babies needed to be born if any of us were going to survive.

Not your typical labor experience, to say the least.

Of course, we can jump forward to today, the day before the boys first birthday (just hours prior, in fact), and smile with joy, knowing that they are thriving, and I am loving being a mom to two beautiful, amazing little boys. 

However, until this past weekend, the peace and joy that should come with watching your boys grow into strong, healthy toddlers has often eluded me, as I struggled to reconcile our birth and NICU experiences with the current reality. Aside from Stephen's cancer (when I was much younger and more naive), I have never been through a more difficult experience, one that stretched and tore me emotionally as well as physically. There were certain things we missed out on, but even more than that, what I have struggled with is a sense of unreality about it all: a feeling that I just "showed up" on my doorstep with two kids in tow, not really sure of how we all got there.

This feeling was largely a product of the circumstances. One minute I was on my way to Enloe Hospital in Chico for a "brief" NST, and the next I was on a helicopter ride into Mercy San Juan Hospital, where everything I defined myself by was pushed away to make room for the all-consuming task of taking care of two babies in the hospital for over a month. Then, just as suddenly, they were allowed to go home, and, Wham! there we are, rushing in our front door and trying to unpack everything before the next feeding. There was no time to process, let alone grieve for what we had lost. After we got home, it was like we were never gone, except my whole world had been turned upside down. Diapers, feedings, and fleeting moments of sleep were the cycle to my days, and though I reveled in the joy of watching my boys grow stronger and healthier, I was still struck by the feeling that I couldn't remember how we got here, and the fear that we could end up back there at any moment, fighting for all our lives.

This weekend, at the NICU reunion, I was able to create the bridge I needed to move on. I saw many of the doctors and nurses who cared for us during our long stay, showed off (and got affirmation of) how well they were doing, and ate and played with other NICU graduates and their parents, including Ella, Annie and Clayton, Noah and Oliver's NICU  roommates. I was able to reassure myself that it was all real, that these were indeed my kids (not delivered by the stork after a long vacation gone horribly wrong), and that we were all going to be okay. 

I know that the struggles of the past year have left their imprint on all our hearts, and perhaps yours as well.I know that they are not "over", as we still differentiate between "actual" and "adjusted" age in terms of development and size. But I also know that the strength we gained by making it through these challenges will allow us to become a stronger family, better prepared to adapt in the face of adversity, and to recognize, and truly revel in, the joy of each day.

I am so thankful for my boys, for the staff at MSJ, for my family and friends, and for my wonderful husband, without whom I never would have survived. 

Here are some pictures of us at the NICU reunion (and a short video of Noah showing off his balloon). 

Thanks for hanging in there with this emotional blog post....I promise I'll get back to happy events in the next installment!

Tracy, a nurse, with Noah and Oliver

Tracy, holding Noah and Oliver, and her daughter, holding Ella

The four of us at the reunion

Noah was Mr. Social, and especially loved Tracy's daughter

Look at this guy! Can you believe he used to be 2 lbs?

Time to go home! But we had so much fun!