I love Facebook memories for popping up pictures of my babies when they were in fact, babies, and not giants with wild hair and sassy attitudes. But, the last couple of weeks has featured my posts from three years ago-when I was admitted to HRO and living in the hospital to monitor the girls. (Coincidentally, also when I started this blog, so happy three years to all of us!)
One picture really took me back; it was me in bed, my belly exposed, hooked up to monitors to watch how those girls were doing. Back when I was sure everything would be ok. Back when I assumed we’d be rolled into the OR at 32 weeks, smiling and chatting.
But, the other thing that made me catch my breath when I saw that photo is remembering how lonely I felt. Those weeks in the hospital were the only time in my life that I was never actually alone, what with two tiny ladies constantly using me as a swimming pool, but when I felt the loneliest. I never felt that anybody could get it, could understand how weird it felt to have no control over your own body, to not even really be able to make decisions about it anymore. To have it be Christmas outside but feel almost like doomsday on the inside.
Having the girls’ birthday so soon after Christmas when it was supposed to be the first day of spring-what craziness. Where have those three years gone and how have we survived it? Never would I have imagined in that hospital bed that this is where we’d be, but I’d never change those wild haired sassy children for the world.