Thursday, February 4, 2010

Where for art thou, babies?

I don't know why this has been so hard to write about. I've stopped and started so many times and yet no words I put down can fully capture the aching emptiness I feel at giving birth to babies and coming home from the hospital without them. What we endure to bring our babies into the world is easily forgotten when we cuddle the thing so hard won. When we smell its soft head, trace our fingers down a chubby, pink body, whisper silliness and love into its ears. But I don't have that now. I sit alone in rooms and wonder about the new lives I just ushered too early into the world. I carry guilt heavy in my chest. Why wasn't I strong enough to carry them to term? What defect brought on labor at 33 weeks?

Also, I carry envy. As I endured an extremely painful recovery from a C-section, I was exposed to the sounds of happy moms and healthy babies in their rooms. Sweet, hungry cries for the bottle. High-pitched mommy voices soothing and playing. My room was eerily quiet at times, nothing but a frigid wind against my window. A phone ringing followed by congratulations that felt hollow and meaningless. The nurses told me to walk. So I did. Walking the long hallways of the maternity suite, I bore witness to a new horror. Affixed to the walls were picture after picture of babies. Pink-cheeked, happy, healthy babies. A baby in a flower pot wearing a crooked hat. Two babies dressed up like purple cabbages. Anne Geddes knock-offs that were even creepier than the originals. Everybody's perfect baby. Everybody's but mine. Thanks so much for hanging these prints on the walls, morons. It's just torture to see a robust newborn baby hatching out of an eggshell, when my babies have tubes coming out of their faces.

I know I shouldn't compare. If we were to really play that game, there are preemies much worse off in the NICU than my little guys. Teeny-tiny preemies that will fit in the palm of your hand. That isn't cute. It's a fucking tragedy. My babies have been given a great prognosis. They will come home in several weeks and most likely be completely healthy. But right now, they are not. Right now, they struggle to do the normal things. Sucking a bottle is a difficult undertaking. Even breathing was hard for them at first. They been here a week and I've held them in my arms maybe 3 times. I've given one bottle to their sweet, hungry mouths. I've changed one diaper.

I know once they're home it will feel like they've always been. But right now I'm in purgatory. I sit at home with all these nurturing chemicals searing through me and strangers are caring for my babies. It just plain hurts a whole hell of a lot. That's about as eloquent as it gets these days, folks. My heart is just broken.

18 comments:

  1. Oh honey - I can't imagine how hard it must be. Thinking good thoughts for you, and growing thoughts for the babes.

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  2. It's difficult but they will be home with you soon. It's no fault of yours that they were early...it's just a common thing with twins.
    xx:)

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  3. Three of my clients had twins and they all delivered early and they all ahd to leave the bebes at the hospital for a few weeks. Happily all bebes made it home and no worse for the wear for being early. Still, they all described it the same, purgatory. Hold on and deep breaths until they're home, I can't even imagine how hard a wait that is. Like you said once they're home it will be like they always were but until then take care of yourself and get ready for their arrival.

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  4. Fuck, Gwen, I'm sorry. I'm sure they will be with you soon. I only had to deal with a day like this when my son went back in for jaundice, and it was brutal. I cannot even imagine what you're going through.

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  5. Gwen - I'm so sorry you are going through this, and I hope that your little sweeties will be home soon.

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  6. I can only imagine how this must feel. Hang in there - soon they will be home.

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  7. I had to leave the hospital without my son and it was awful. When we finally got to bring him home, though, we forgot all that he had been through and celebrated.

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  8. I won't sit here and diminish what you're feeling right here, right now. I will tell you that you are good enough and strong enough to get to the other side. And there is an other side to get to.

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  9. It hurts... a lot. I'm sorry it has to be this way right now. Perhaps this hurt will only make it sweeter when they come home, and that day isn't too far away.
    Want to connect with other parents of preemies? Try visiting the March of Dimes community (very supportive) called Share Your Story: http://www.shareyourstory.org/
    I hope your little guys are home soon.

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  10. I cannot even imagine it. CAN'T EVEN FATHOM. I hope the time passes as quickly as possible and you can be with them more. I'm so sorry that you are hurting so much.

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  11. Sending blessings and all good wishes your way.

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  12. I can only begin to imagine what you are going through since my little one stayed one night longer than I did. The emptiness I felt that night was soul crushing. I am so very sorry you (or anyone else) has to go through that night after night. So very, very sorry.

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  13. those twins are doing what twins do. coming early and breaking hearts.

    I'm so sorry.

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  14. Oh, Gwen,
    This made me cry. You're so right about all of it. Knowing that they will be home soon and well and all that doesn't take away the massive suckfest that is RIGHT NOW for you.

    I'm sorry and wish that there was something to do. I'd do it.
    xo

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  15. I'm so sorry you're going through this. My daughter spent 3 weeks in the NICU and my heart ached every second that I was away from her while she was still in the hospital. Being released from the hospital 4 days after giving birth and seeing the empty car seat just broke me down. We were told she would be able to come home in 2 or 3 days and I would be up half the night b/c I was so excited and I would pack a little bag for her but then the next morning we would get a call saying "Sorry she needs to stay for a few more days". That cycle repeated itself and lasted for 20 days. I felt like I was being emotionally tortured and cried all the time. At restaurants, in stores, everywhere. I can only imagine what people thought about this crazy chick balling her eyes out while they were trying to enjoy their dinner. But finally she was home. Now at 9 months she's thriving and into anything and everything with her new crawling skills. Your bambinos will be home soon and I'll keep you in my thoughts. Sorry about the novel.

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  16. Hope you have them home by now? Maybe? And you're right, the comparison game is a dangerous one. One that gets you nowhere. Hang in there.

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  17. Gwen,

    Here it is, several days after you posted this, and I don't know if I should be grieving so. Are they home yet? Probably not, guessing from what you've written. Are they thriving? Are they shedding tubes and growing pinker by the day?

    I hope so.

    Hang in there, my friend. You'll be snuggling soon enough . . .

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